Creative City
to look, and not avert one's gaze;
that is where all the art is, the passion
and the city. people who do not look,
cannot see canvas, or poems or
notes for
happiness.
art does not begin with art,
but in the eyes. the eyes are everything;
when you look up at another,
and look away without a smile,
you have killed
everything you want to
bring home, oh citizen
My Response
I think that this poem, creative city, is very well written in free verse, and is very interesting. This poem is about how typical person in a city looks at art. I like how the poet tells us that art does not begin with art, but in the eyes. This tells us that the city itself is so beautiful and everywhere you look is considered art. I also like the part when the poet tells us that the eyes are everything; when you look up at another, and look away without a smile. This tells us that if you look away from that person you are looking away from art, and when you look at the person you are looking at art.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Viator
I Wonder Through The Snow
I wonder through the snow,
I see white falling down,
As it lays on the ground,
And foot prints from people,
Wearing clothes that are warm,
I wonder through the snow,
Green trees are now white trees,
Snowmen all over town,
Green and red on each house,
And even Christmas trees,
I wonder through the snow,
Streets are white snow,
Cars are moving slow,
Salt trucks make it safer,
Winter looks very white,
I wonder through the snow.
TYPE OF POEM: Viator
METER: 6 syllables
I wonder through the snow,
I see white falling down,
As it lays on the ground,
And foot prints from people,
Wearing clothes that are warm,
I wonder through the snow,
Green trees are now white trees,
Snowmen all over town,
Green and red on each house,
And even Christmas trees,
I wonder through the snow,
Streets are white snow,
Cars are moving slow,
Salt trucks make it safer,
Winter looks very white,
I wonder through the snow.
TYPE OF POEM: Viator
METER: 6 syllables
Sensory Poem
On Shore
I can feel the cold air resting on my skin,
and the wind blowing against my face,
As i taste it blowing in my mouth,
I can see wave, after wave in the lake,
As i hear waves smashing each other,
I can smell the lake traveling through my nose,
and the wood form all the tree's,
This is me on shore.
TYPE OF POEM: Free verse.
I can feel the cold air resting on my skin,
and the wind blowing against my face,
As i taste it blowing in my mouth,
I can see wave, after wave in the lake,
As i hear waves smashing each other,
I can smell the lake traveling through my nose,
and the wood form all the tree's,
This is me on shore.
TYPE OF POEM: Free verse.
Canadian Idenity
Winter
The Season of winter is the best,
Your not like the rest,
Snows Falls down,
Snow is wonderful it deserves a crown,
As you build up more and more,
On top of the ground floor,
But oh the weather,
Why are you colder?
But its time to say your good bye's
As winter dies.
RHYME SCHEME: AABB CCDD EE
The Season of winter is the best,
Your not like the rest,
Snows Falls down,
Snow is wonderful it deserves a crown,
As you build up more and more,
On top of the ground floor,
But oh the weather,
Why are you colder?
But its time to say your good bye's
As winter dies.
RHYME SCHEME: AABB CCDD EE
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Poem response
Winter Snow
Walking in the winter snow,
My feet leave tracks that show where I go.
This snow has such fluffy feel,
I sometimes question if it's real.
Walking through this wall of white,
I cannot tell if it's night.
Wondering where i am going,
The snow just keeps on blowing.
Absorbing all this wet white powder,
I hear the winds howling louder.
Finding my way in the snow,
I wonder next where I shall go.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Canada
| by Munda |
| Canada, oh Canada what hast thou done with me whenever I do close my eyes my heart is there with thee Your mountains and great forests of an infinity Sequoias stand majestically ancient serenity What everlasting pleasure lies in your scenery the crumbling walls of what once was beneath a Maple tree Golden fields of waving grain whisper a lullaby the sunset slowly fades away beyond your endless sky Canada, oh Canada what hast thou done with me I feel thou whispers in my soul I wish to be with thee I spot a single red deer scent danger in the breeze the slightest noise will make her flee among your mighty trees I see your children playing out on a frozen pond at snowball fights and slapping pucks a magic way beyond Mem'ries of the days gone by engraved into my soul return to you I will some day it's always been my goal Canada, oh Canada what hast thou done with me thou temptress of my craving heart I long to be with thee |
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