Cloud
By: Travis Medina
I was as white as a cotton ball,
fluffy like a marshmallow,
flew high like a bird.
My smile was larger than a skyscraper.
Then the others came to make fun of
my shape.
There voices pierced my like an arrow of pain.
I sat on the pain, and allowed the arrows to be shot.
I was still white on the outside but I could feel
the pain inside. I could feel the grey forming from inside me.
The arrows were still being shot at me.
My smile was still large, but my inner smile
was fading and being filled with grey.
One day the last arrow was shot and I
officially became silver.
I was done taking arrows so I took my pain on the
people below and teared all over them.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Favorite Poems
How can I, that girl standing there,
my attention fixed on Roman or on
Russian or on spanish politics?
They begin beating it with a
hose to find out what it really means.
You do no think I suffer after.
Our gun barrels
glowed white-hot.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
The morning cleared again
Do not go gentle into that good night
my attention fixed on Roman or on
Russian or on spanish politics?
They begin beating it with a
hose to find out what it really means.
You do no think I suffer after.
Our gun barrels
glowed white-hot.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
The morning cleared again
Do not go gentle into that good night
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Politics
Politics
William Butler Yeats
HOW can I, that girl standing there,
My attention fix
On Roman or on Russian
Or on Spanish politics?
Yet here's a travelled man that knows
What he talks about,
And there's a politician
That has read and thought,
And maybe what they say is true
Of war and war's alarms,
But O that I were young again
And held her in my arms!
After reading this one is forced to think about making decisions. You must be in either one place or the other when facing life decisions like this. The person in this poem has to choose between the love he has for a women versus his duty towards the country. In general, I picked this poem because it made me think about what all troops sacrifice when they fight for their country. Personally I would pick love but this person picked war and all he can think of is that woman and holding her. I liked this one because I felt like I was in the mind of a troop in the sense that while in war they think about coming to that special someone.
William Butler Yeats
HOW can I, that girl standing there,
My attention fix
On Roman or on Russian
Or on Spanish politics?
Yet here's a travelled man that knows
What he talks about,
And there's a politician
That has read and thought,
And maybe what they say is true
Of war and war's alarms,
But O that I were young again
And held her in my arms!
After reading this one is forced to think about making decisions. You must be in either one place or the other when facing life decisions like this. The person in this poem has to choose between the love he has for a women versus his duty towards the country. In general, I picked this poem because it made me think about what all troops sacrifice when they fight for their country. Personally I would pick love but this person picked war and all he can think of is that woman and holding her. I liked this one because I felt like I was in the mind of a troop in the sense that while in war they think about coming to that special someone.
Facing it
Facing It
My black face fades,
hiding inside the black granite.
I said I wouldn't
dammit: No tears.
I'm stone. I'm flesh.
My clouded reflection eyes me
like a bird of prey, the profile of night
slanted against morning. I turn
this way—the stone lets me go.
I turn that way—I'm inside
the Vietnam Veterans Memorialhalf-expecting to find
my own in letters like smoke.
I touch the name Andrew Johnson
I see the booby trap's white flash.
Names shimmer on a woman's blouse
but when she walks away
the names stay on the wall.
Brushstrokes flash, a red bird's
wings cutting across my stare.
The sky. A plane in the sky.
A white vet's image floats
closer to me, then his pale eyes
look through mine. I'm a window.
He's lost his right arm
inside the stone. In the black mirror
a woman’s trying to erase names:
No, she's brushing a boy's hair.
This by far has got to be one of my most favorite poems yet. The author uses a ton of images that really makes it seem like I was in the Vietnam war. However, this is not the only thing great about the poem I like the main message to show how the only thing that these men who fought hard is get a stone with a name on it. I think personally that this is not right but, that is the way the government works, if you fight and die you are just remembered by a name and then replaced with another fool. In conclusion, the poem to me is power full because its a man speaking out to tell the truth and explain in detail what military life is truly like.
This by far has got to be one of my most favorite poems yet. The author uses a ton of images that really makes it seem like I was in the Vietnam war. However, this is not the only thing great about the poem I like the main message to show how the only thing that these men who fought hard is get a stone with a name on it. I think personally that this is not right but, that is the way the government works, if you fight and die you are just remembered by a name and then replaced with another fool. In conclusion, the poem to me is power full because its a man speaking out to tell the truth and explain in detail what military life is truly like.
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