I stepped into this whole poetry unit blinded by the “complexity” I thought poetry had. I am not the most creative person in the world, so I thought I was going to dread this unit. However, I was pleasantly surprised. I enjoyed seeing the work that I could create. Who knew that I could play with my words like I did, or use imagery. I can actually give someone my work, or read it out loud and not be embarrassed of it. I am very confident about my work and I am proud.

In my poems my most commonly used poetic technique that I used in my poems was imagery. My favorite line that I used imagery in was “Why did God feel the/ need to have that/ little swimmer/ vigorously/ burst into a seed/ to create me.” That was such a powerful line for me and imagery was the only way I knew how to express it. I used repetition in my poems with punctuation. I was very precise about where I put them because my poem did not seem complete if a punctuation mark is out of touch.


1. "Poetry is as precise a thing as geometry." - Gustave Flaubert




2. Memory Poem

My Baby Love
February 13, 2007

19-year-old sister was
as big as a house.
While vaguely listening
snow flakes start to fall.
Mid-night strikes,
There was a
cloud bubble right above
my huge head.
Mommy dearest came at me with
a huge shove and
popped it.
"Get up Lex!"
There was something so precious
that was about to be sent
down wrapped up in a beautiful cloth
that we will rapture in
because
she was love.

Driving in this mess of a city
on this
nasty day,
for a beautiful beginner
that ALMIGHTY created.
Sitting in a white room.
Calming?
Is it supposed to
be?
Why should there be a standstill
when we here that special number...
10?
Trusting her womanly
parts
to sculpt something so cherished.
Exhilaration is something
that the
child-bearer feels when she hears push.
Exudation seeps out of openings
on her appearance.
In her companions eyes
he feels she is still
angelic and fascinating.

That precious soul is such
a princess.
She begins to earn her crown
when the first part
of her hits the
God sent air.
She thrusts and
quenches her rear
end that
the lovely one will
probably inherit.

Felt like
I was in a
90's sitcom.
Excitement coming
from my left
and my right.
She gives is one more
1-10
and here it is.


3.

Ode to my Remote Control
You have buttons
and this clear thingy on the top of you.
You are one of
the toughest things
I know of.
You take a lot of
crap from people.
You get dropped,
thrown at different
objects,
and slapped around when you
don’t do exactly what
characters want you
to do.

People push your
buttons
and your pulse
rushes through your body
and signal a type
of
attention.
You don’t always react,
and when you don’t
the characters
still try to push your buttons
until you do.

Don't let them take your
energy away.
Just grow some legs
and
adrift.

I know exactly
how you feel.
I once had someone
throw me down
on the
ground.
Pick at me
until I reacted.
But I wasn't
as STRONG
as you.
By the end of it
all... I was
BROKE down
and
BUSTED.
Emotional out of
fuel.
So I tried to
mend it.
But you just keep on keepin on.

I’m sorry remote.


Link to Audio-
http://dl.dropbox.com/u/12821405/Poem%201.m4a



4. Found Poem


People in Philly
I can't deal I can't do it, people on twitter cuss too much.
That ain't my job.
Go to class. Yessssss...
It was Abou.
I got these black girls jealous.
Ask ya man.
The last time I talked to him was last week.
He was playing with his new boo.
But I found it on somebody's tumblr.
Attention septa riders!
What's in the new chicken wraps?


5. I was Raised by…


Motherly Love
I was Raised by
a go get the
beret box
and don’t take
out the comb type of
woman.

She knew the pain I withheld
when she put the
comb to my
unpermed
roots.
But she knew the price I
would pay if I didn’t
know that
beauty was pain.

I was Raised by
a Sunday dinner type of
woman.

Not a woman that
cooked it.
But a woman who enjoyed
her mother’s cooking
after a long day
of singing a joyful noise
on the
Morris Chapel Baptist Church
choir.
LexusAngel.jpg

I was Raised by
a Avon sells manager type of
woman.

A woman that kept a French
manicure,
fresh suit,
and a new purse holding Avon
brochures.

I was Raised by
a go-getter type of

woman.

I mean a woman
that holds a bragging
right to
say that she
is the first one to
earn a bachelors degree.

I was Raised by
LOVE XOXOX


6. Riff Poem

Blessings
What’s my purpose
in this thing called life?
Why did God feel the
need to have that
little swimmer
vigorously
burst into a seed
to create me.

What do I have
to offer?
I have yet
to have a response
to answer this question.

Does my Father have a plan
for me?
I think he has
a plan for all of his children.
But the key to that
door is patience.

My Father loves me.
“I am blessed because God
told me so.”

Quote from Londeka Zondi's


7. Imagist Poem


10oz. Welch’s Bottle
You have your curved
crevices.
People will grasp you and hold you.
That 40-year-old virgin
will be jealous because
she wants to have that same exact
intimacy.
That girl will put her full lips
around your rim.
She will have her tongue
soak up the juices that
is withheld inside of you.
You take your
place in the
blue whicker basket,
and patiently wait
for the cycle to repeat.



For my detailed study I studied a poet named Charles Bukowski. He is a crazy, mediocre poet, but in a good way. He is a poet that will make you ponder on the smallest things, but they have such a bigger meaning to them. I am definitely not used to his type of poetry and a blind man can see that reading my poetry. However, it was quite interesting to be taken out of my comfort zone and analyze something so different. This analyzation just strengthens and broadens my mind on dissecting poems.



Charles Bukowski was always very angry and didn’t have a positive outlook on life. I looked at his poems as if something in his childhood was so traumatizing that he carried it with throughout adulthood. There was a stanza that what was in Mr. Bukowski’s poem Alone Wit Everybody. It says, “the city dumps fill/ the junkyards fill/ the madhouses fill/ the hospitals fill/ the graveyards fill”. This shows that he focuses on the negatives in life rather than the positives.



This poet also makes it clear in almost every poem that he is a drinker. Alcoholic drinks are a big part of his life. In his poems he makes it very clear that he drinks his sorrows away and there is nobody there to even try to stop him. Charles dedicates a whole poem to drinking. This poem is called Are You Drinking. There is a stanza in this poem that says, “are you drinking?” he will ask./ “are you getting your/ exercise, your/ vitamins?” In my eyes it seems like whoever is asking these questions doesn’t really care about the alcohol problem, they were just asking these questions because they had to but didn’t really care.



In many of this wonderful poet’s poems, he uses a lot of symbolism. In his poem A Radio With Guts, the radio has much more meaning than being just a radio. I think the radio is a symbolism for love. Also, in his poem, A Smile To Remember, he symbolizes his mother as a helpless goldfish because her husband was abusing her. Like almost every man, he has an obsession with the female body. In the poem A Radio With Guts, he mentions a woman’s body a lot. He say’s, “she really dug with that trowel/ and she put her behind up in the air”. Charles Bukowski uses a lot of repetition in his poems. In every poem that I have read he has used repetition in them, whether it be repetition in words or capitalization.