My Grandmother Would Rock Quietly and Hum (Leonard Adame)

in her house
she would rock quietly and hum
until her swelled hands
calmed

in summer she wore thick stockings
sweater
and gray braids

(when el cheque came
we went to Payless
and I laughed greedily
when given a quarter)

mornings,
sunlight barely lit
the kitchen
and where there were shadows
it was not cold
she quietly rolled
flour tortillas --
the papa
cracking in hot lard
would wake me

she had lost her teeth
and when we ate
she had bread
soaked in café



always her eyes were clear
and she could see
as I cannot yet see --
through her eyes
she gave me herself

she would sit
and talk
of her girlhood --
of things strange to me:
Mexico
epidemics
relatives shot
her father’s hopes
of this country --
how they sank
with cement dust to his insides

now
when I go
to the old house in her house
she would rock quietly and hum
until her swelled hands
calmed

in summer she wore thick stockings
sweater
and gray braids

(when el cheque came
we went to Payless
and I laughed greedily
when given a quarter)

mornings,
sunlight barely lit
the kitchen
and where there were shadows
it was not cold
she quietly rolled
flour tortillas --
the papa
cracking in hot lard
would wake me

she had lost her teeth
and when we ate
she had bread
soaked in café



always her eyes were clear
and she could see
as I cannot yet see --
through her eyes
she gave me herself

she would sit
and talk
of her girlhood --
of things strange to me:
Mexico
epidemics
relatives shot
her father’s hopes
of this country --
how they sank
with cement dust to his insides

now
when I go
to the old house
the worn spots by the stove
echo of her shuffling
and
Mexico
still hangs in her
fading
calendar pictures

the worn spots by the stove
echo of her shuffling
and
Mexico
still hangs in her
fading
calendar pictures

My Grandmother Would Rock Quietly and Hum (Reflection)

Focuses on a grandmother who love’s everything when it comes to her family, his grandson loves to talk about the happy memories, when her grandmother shows it. base on the information that I search, a grandmother is the reason why we are here because of the love and that love is our parents either the mother of our father or the mother of our father we already knew that it is our grandmother, that we also know they care for us and gives comfort to us, in my own experience I always remember how my grandmother show us her thoughtfulness that every minute that I always with her, she makes me laugh, she always embrace me, and she can cook the way that there’s a different style but at the same time have a great taste that my parents can’t do, she always give me a good advice about life and proper communication or conversation with other people.

A Pillow with a Blanket in my Life (My grandmother would rock quietly and hum)

A powder that gives comfort
in sweating under the sun a
pillow with a blanket in my life
that is my mom,

In the middle of the day
always dress like a brightest flower
with a gorgeous stem and
beautiful root

That in the game of life I play my part
then she always guided the ground
for me and a golden fried food that
makes my mood bright like
a happy child

When the road is clean as clear there’s
always be a race with other racers
in neighbors

When the dark is out, a coffee
in my mothers desk that every
night I want it to drink with her

Inside the quiet house when my
cabinet is start to open there’s
always be a noisy voice because
of the toys that makes joy,

My mother talks about how
can I organize my things in
a proper way and in a proper
stand of life,

After my lunch I always felt like
it is the middle of the night
that when my mother said
that I need to nap for a while
beside her,
Realize now how important
the flowers in my life
the bee’s always
want the gorgeous
and beautiful
flowers that a person
have a sweetest flowers
in their life

Her eyes that always
with you
her hand that gives you comfort
and a face that you’ll
never forget

Four Haiku (Matsuo Basho)

Spring:
A hill without a name
Veiled in morning mist.

The beginning of autumn:
Sea and emerald paddy
Both the same green.

The winds of autumn
Blow: yet still green
The chestnut husks.

A flash of lightning:
Into the gloom
Goes the heron's cry

Four Haiku (Reflection)

In these poem is focusing in the natural phenomena and daily observations, the places that are common to us, that everyday we can see the different things that the environment can create. Like our house, everyday we lived here, we slip here but we don’t observe the things that can give more important to our life. The nature that explain the beautiful things in our environment, a place that express the happiness through beautiful things that cause by the nature and gives you the idea of preciousness in mind, when you have a questions in your mind, when you see the gorgeousness of the nature, you can easily know the answer to that questions, It emphasizes the places that we saw everyday on our life.

Room Clash (Four Haiku)

Big grey clouds
looks like having
a heavy rain


Sunset with a
bright pearl in the
bottom of the sea


The reflection of a
happy a tree but
lonely beneath the root


A big soft green
grass with a cold wind
and smelly fresh flowers

l(a (E.E Cummings

l(a

le
af
fa

ll

s)
one
l

iness

L(a (Reflection)

His work has a different style with a different form. Cummings experimental radically with punctuation, spelling and syntax, he change its style for abandoning the traditional techniques and structures and to create a different expression by means of his poetic expression of work, he often criticized for setting into his signature style and not pressing his work towards further evolution. Nevertheless, he attained great popularity, especially among young readers for the simplicity of his language, his playful style to create his poems and his attention to subjects such as loneliness in our life. His work attracted the people by his eccentric punctuation that commonly held belief that E.E. Cummings had his name legally change to lowercase letters is erroneous, his works brought lightness and satirical tones that give simplicity to determined the poems easily.

T’O’B’A (l(a)

t,d

f

i

r

e

d

f,a

r

o

b

e

n

g,i

d

a

f

r

i

We Wear the Mask (Paul Lawrence Dunbar)

WE wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.
Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!

We Wear the Mask (Reflection)

It is about discrimination of the African-American slaves of the early United States, this is his way to express his emotions and to show that there is discrimination, it also about the people who was treated with such disrespect and humiliation that is understandable why they would mask their true thoughts and their emotions. To make their daily lives easier, they spoke and acted the ways that their white owners dictated, their lives had, to a point, that been taken away from them, but there were some things that could never be taken away from them, and that is their inner strength and their spirituality. This poem used to cry it out by the African-Americans throughout history, suffered with. It is obvious that even there’s discrimination, they are a deep, religious faith with God and one’s spirituality can carry them through even the most dreadful situations. They put on false faces and pretend for many different reasons

Afraid to know beneath the eyes (We wear the mask)

Afraid to know the true thoughts are,
afraid to see the hiding lonely fillings
by my own shirt, when that shirt have
a chance to be with you, it cannot wear
and fit with it,


I always do the proper things just to take
care that shirt but they always put a dirt
into it that you can’t hide it


I don’t want her to see me happy cause,
that is the beginning of her being lonely,
can’t let go of her, my shirt,
because of consequences that
makes me soft.

A Supermarket in California (Allen Ginsberg)

What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for
I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache
self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went
into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families
shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the
avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you, Garcia Lorca, what
were you doing down by the watermelons?

I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber,
poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery
boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the
pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans
following you, and followed in my imagination by the store
detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in our
solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen
delicacy, and never passing the cashier.

Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in
an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The
trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be
lonely.

Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love
past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher,
what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and
you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat
disappear on the black waters of Lethe?

A Supermarket in California (Reflection)

searching for something that will set him right, he dreams of Walt Whitman as a source of inspiration. Whitman is a literary and spiritual hero to Ginsberg and, in many ways, Ginsberg emulates Whitman’s style and subject matter in his own poems.
Ginsberg is being ironic when he writes that he is “shopping for images” in a “neon fruit supermarket.” One does not normally think about “buying” images, especially not in a supermarket. But by looking for his poetic inspiration in a commercial setting, Ginsberg underscores one of the themes of his poem: the reduction of every thing and thought in America to something that can be bought and sold

A gift of a friend (A supermarket in California)

Why your hair is so long?, this very special night could be
colorful, wonderful night. You make my night shine that my friends
can also be a clowns, my family my friends eating in a seafood
restaurant in front of a boy with a special night, in a big box that contain his favorite dishes. He surprises as in a center of a happy conversation,

Why are you here? , Why are you late? , but it’s cool to have a mayor in
your own celebration, pick-up a scent with a wild flower, I said inside
of my mind. Why are you here? , your schedule is like a trail,
Where are your dogs? , Where did you put their chains?
I followed the footsteps of the mayor; my food is not yet done
can’t wait to see them with wire around their neck, a radio that
no one can get. I think he’s not that famous, famous to close the rest bar.

Oh! , there they are, the dogs! Barking outside the restaurant,
Cool to see a hungry bull outside the restaurant.
After a while the time is done the mayor is gone, only the
Bible with a signature of the mayor is here!
Hey! Where is he going? , Are his dogs barking again?
a book, a bible book that I can read while the grey vehicle is
crossing the different color light candle road.

Gretel in Darkness (Louise Elisabeth Gluck)

This is the world we wanted.
All who would have seen us dead
are dead. I hear the witch's cry
break in the moonlight through a sheet
of sugar: God rewards.
Her tongue shrivels into gas . . .

Now, far from women's arms
and memory of women, in our father's hut
we sleep, are never hungry.
Why do I not forget?
My father bars the door, bars harm
from this house, and it is years.

No one remembers. Even you, my brother,
summer afternoons you look at me as though
you meant to leave,
as though it never happened.
But I killed for you. I see armed firs,
the spires of that gleaming kiln--

Nights I turn to you to hold me
but you are not there.
Am I alone? Spies
hiss in the stillness, Hansel,
we are there still and it is real, real,
that black forest and the fire in earnest.

Gretel in Darkness (Reflection)

Response to “Gretel in Darkness” When beginning a poem or any other type of writing, the first thing a person must do is observe the title. ... The title of the poem I chose is “Gretel in Darkness,” written by Louise Gluck. I assumed by the title that the author is talking about the famous tale “Hansel and Gretel,” as this is the only “Gretel” that comes to mind. The second part of the title mentions Gretel in some sort of darkness. I could only question why Gretel was in the dark. ... As one remembers the tale, Gretel stops the witch from eating Hansel by pushing her into the oven. ... In line seven, Gretel talks about how perfect her life is after the incident, “We sleep, are never hungry.” In line one, Gretel starts the poem with “This is the world we wanted. ... In Gretel’s past, evil, killing and wickedness are the only things that she has experienced. ... Even you, my brother” Gretel tells how Hansel has forgotten the past, but more than that, has not experienced what she has. ... Gretel says “But I killed for you” in line thirteen. This line is a reference to the tale of Hansel and Gretel. In the tale, Gretel is the one that killed the witch while Hansel was safe in his cage.

Here I come, the punisher (Gretel in Darkness)

This is me, this is my ability, my ability that no one can be.
The sadness in my mind starts by broken heart,
my heart that my enemies destroyed it.
A happy moment with my family in a beat

of my heart they disappeared.
So hard to think about dreams of the past,
so much pain in heart, a blood that I can’t imagine,
imagine my own blood in a seven bloody bullets.

This disaster made my gun laugh but made my enemy’s cry
they pushed me, I suffered a long time ago and fall asleep
and now here I am!
I’m awake now, ready to face the truth, ready to point my gun
ready to shoot and decide to pull the trigger.

Revenge, this is revenge.

Wole Soyinka (Telephone Conversation)

The price seemed reasonable, location
Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived
Off premises. Nothing remained
But self-confession. "Madam," I warned,
"I hate a wasted journey--I am African."
Silence. Silenced transmission of
Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,
Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled
Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was foully.
"HOW DARK?" . . . I had not misheard . . . "ARE YOU LIGHT
OR VERY DARK?" Button B, Button A.* Stench
Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.
Red booth. Red pillar box. Red double-tiered
Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed
By ill-mannered silence, surrender
Pushed dumbfounded to beg simplification.
Considerate she was, varying the emphasis--
"ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?" Revelation came.
"You mean--like plain or milk chocolate?"
Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light
Impersonality. Rapidly, wave-length adjusted,
I chose. "West African sepia"--and as afterthought,
"Down in my passport." Silence for spectroscopic
Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent
Hard on the mouthpiece. "WHAT'S THAT?" conceding
"DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS." "Like brunette."
"THAT'S DARK, ISN'T IT?" "Not altogether.
Facially, I am brunette, but, madam, you should see
The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet
Are a peroxide blond. Friction, caused--
Foolishly, madam--by sitting down, has turned
My bottom raven black--One moment, madam!"--sensing
Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap
About my ears--"Madam," I pleaded, "wouldn't you rather
See for yourself?"

Telephone Conversation (Reflection)

In ‘Telephone Conversation’, the poet conveys his disappointment and anger about being discriminated by the Caucasian unfairly just because he is an African by portraying the telephone conversation between himself and the British landlady. The poem is in the form of free verse. It is because ‘conversation’ isn’t something well-planned; instead, the speakers speak what they want during the conversation. Also, with the aid of end-stop lines and run-on lines, the outlook of the poem gives readers a sense of randomly formation, which fully suits the way of ‘telephone conversation’ flows. Instead of talking something about the price and things concerning the house renting, the two speakers talk about their skin color. This issue was bought up by the landlady

Through the net (Telephone conversation)

This is a map, map can see your own location
in just one click with a low price “Mr.”
“busy man” WHAT IS THAT? A GPS?
Yes sir!, a GPS an electronic map device
that can trace your location with different places,
“Mr.” IS THAT AVAILABLE IN DIFFERENT COLORS?
IS IT TOUCHSCREEN LIKE IN OTHER DEVICES TODAY?”
an advance GPS made for the new generation, a GPS with water and
shock proof, a device can change the world in one click,
more colorful like the rainbow in the garden,
can control by your skin into the center
of the little screen machine. A machine that can
change your time, your future, your destiny!.

The Red Wheelbarrow (William Carlos Williams)

so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens

The Red Wheelborrow (Reflection)

So much depends upon a red wheelbarrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens we can understand the poverty of this sentence as it tries to be a poem.
the claim that “so much depends” upon this wheelbarrow is quite accurate. On a farm, a wheelbarrow is used for a number of important farm chores.
notice that each “stanza” is shaped like a wheelbarrow. The colors stand out because of their contrast with one another: the white chickens contrast with the red of the wheelbarrow.
the wheelbarrow can be seen as important economically,
it adds beauty to its surroundings.
much attention has been given to the word "glazed" -it transforms the wheelbarrow into an object of aesthetic contemplation

A Scooter (The Red wheel borrow)

Little black side stands
in a big tri-color with

Blue, green, violet
body scooter and black
pedal,

little two silver wheels
beside a big window
with a web spider

under the
white are-condition