Narrative Poems

To write narrative poems, students continued their focus on line, words, turns, imagery, and figurative language, except they told a story with their poems instead of purely expressing a thought or a feeling. Here is some of what they came up with:

Shield

I am a seasonal warrior

I shield my commander from
hundreds of enemies
You can tell when a war’s
on when the sky is
dark…

Wind gets violent…

Fear not my master! Open
me and you shall not get
wet.

I blocked hundreds of the
wet b—-…. but my master
seemed troubled….

W-What’s wrong master? Oh
No! Forgive me, for I am flawed
I cannot protect you from the
cold… I am useless 😦

Water Bottle

I am forced to be full,
Ice cubes are forced down my spine,
How I pine for life not to be dull,
without me she be fine.

Upon my knozzle she knaws,
She forgets
I’m in her freezing car,
4 days later I’m left to thaw.

Lonesome,
never given a second look,
I’m not dumb,
She believes I’m expendable,
never enough time to read a book.

Not considerate of my feelings
She doodles upon my sides,
I don’t want these tattoos,
There are too many dealings.

She wishes not to buy a new bottle,
She already payed for one,
I serve as a perfect water model,
how I wish my time was done.

I pine to not be her source of drink,
Most of the time I weep
waterful tears from my sides
at last of me she could think
away from here I’ll slink.

Sky Versus Clouds

The sounds of her slurps
are like the sounds of the first
warm sunny day.
Sunrays beaming down.
Clouds ripping apart
like tectonic plates during
a volcanic eruption.
Bars of musical sundays
coasting from ear to ear.
Everyone’s at peace.
Flash!!!
The clouds race towards the sun
with randomly dispersed yellow stripes across the sky
and loud sound of cars passing over a bridge.
Hey you! What do you think you’re doing?
the sun says to the clouds.
You’ve had your fun. Now it’s my turn. says the clouds.
The sun’s angry,
Car crash.
Okay. I’ve got to do something!
The sun tries to work it’s way through but the clouds
aren’t having it.
Days later the sun finds an opening
and leaps through
Sun rays beaming down.
Clouds ripping apart
like tectonic plates during
a volcanic eruption.
Everyone’s at peace.

Round One

Taunting me
Ms. Hoffman’s class
Marnese sleeping
through history
Mr. Tanagucci, science
Stupid
Your Mama
Two hard-headed girls
Charging
towards
each other
First punch duck
Just
Keep
Hitting
Bra snaps.
Bathroom
Swarm of kids
Two day suspension!

The Bet

I quietly walked in the woods
behind grandpa’s home.
grandma right behind me
creeping our way into the woods.
I was well trained, and ready.
searching for a target,
I found one.
a squirrel
The squirrel didn’t run,
but wasn’t still.
Left is stopped, right it jumped, up, down.
Finally it stopped
Aiming, my heart racing
breathing heavily,
I shot.
I barely got it,
but i did.
grandpa proud,
patting me on the back
I didn’t think i was ready,
But i waas prepared, focused,
and got dinner for the day.
I also did more
i won
the squirrel bet.

Fall Apart

Lone feet
walking the pavement.
Lone eye
looking to the sky.
Day after day
I walk this journey,
trudging
trough a star-lighted night.
Head light zoom by
acting as memories.
Street lights stand still
acting as walls.
Horns and honks
fill the night air.
Interrupting my thoughts
my memories
of you.
I’m on this journey home.
Home,
a place of comfort
then a thought for you.
I wish I could stop
this walk home
and come home to you.

Caged

A 12 year old girl gets “complimented” by a grown man.
Liking the way she looks in her school uniform, he copes a feel.
Uncomfortable. Unwanted, but nobody coming to her rescue. One of many.

14 years old, she carries herself with maturity
that comes with being 24. She knows what it’s like
to hide herself. To protect herself, from being a mere object.

Isn’t it wrong? she feels it is, but they say,
“learn to take compliments.” It’s not a compliment if it makes you feel uncomfortable
other girls, reaching their hands out to her for understanding of this hardship.

At 18, she realizes people don’t understand the word “no.”
They say you should enjoy yourself at a party, but it’s impossible when you’re
worried about being drugged. Like a rabbit caught in a trap.

Crying alone. How can the world be so cruel? She was the victim.
Why was she being blamed? “your skirt’s to short.” “Your cleavage was showing.”
You seem to not be able to enjoy yourself without “asking for it.”

Wage difference. Inequality. Sexism. Object. All negative words.
Feminism. A positive word she is trying to convey to everyone in the world,
At the age 25. like an echo through a cavern, she wants people to understand.
she is equal to him. He is equal to her. They are equal to them. I am equal with
everyone.

Teacher

She tells you what she thinks.
You should know,
not what you should
know.
Wake up,
time to get the vibe up.
She walks in the room
pencils up
mouth’s shut
eyes up.
She tells you what what she thinks
you should know,
wake up.

A Dream

I have dreams to see the world
to see more than just pictures on the internet
I want the figments of my imagination
to be reality
A world I can’t see without touching the sky
from the inside of a huge metal bird
I’m scared to be released from the chamber
of a gun filled city
sitting as a small part of this bullet shooting through the sky
piercing the clouds, slowly
Millions and millions of feet off the ground
stuck in this shallow tunnel
breathing the same stale air as strangers
My heart rapidly beats, my ears pop
Music thumps in my head
as a strategy to distract me from my fears
I want to spend the day with my toes in warm
soothing sand.
Staring at the waves of an ombre blue sea
even enjoying the night time breeze
while the water sings a sweet medley through my nose
the reflection of the moon and night sky in the dark
Sea, calms me, as if I was there and it wasn’t a dream
I have dreams to see a world I’ve never seen.

Hat

You came in my time
of need
Black with a type of sparkle
about you
That day you were
the hand that kept my head
up and stylish.
A thousand ways
A thousand and one that day you
kept my hair from look ehh okay
you filled my hair to give
it a sharper look.
Remixed my verse
and gave it a hook
So many word to describe my new hair
so made it book
I wanna thank you hat for my looks
never fade
instead of leaving me looking a hot mess
you threw me some shade.

You Coulda Took Me Out to Dinner

Why do you always come after me?
I know I’m soft and juicy
And I pack a little crunch
But don’t touch me
You will get punched.

Do you know how much time
it takes
for me to look
this good?
Let me tell you

In the morning, my flesh
is limp and pink.
I’m tightly wound,
an ice crystal.
So I let myself sit
in a dish full of water.
My muscles unwind and dine
until I’m smooth, released, fresh.
(Don’t get fresh with me!)

Anyway,
So I’ve taken my bath,
now it’s time for my mash,
my daily dredge
of beaten egg yolks –
I take a little dip.
Once I’m moisturized
I step into the flour shower.
My pores open,
tender-er by the minute,
I put on my bread crumbs.
I go for a real seasoned,
crusty look.
Here comes my favorite part:
a hot spring of bubbling oil
it plumps up my skin
and darkens my crust
like no other.

You should try it some time.
But make sure it’s vegetable
oil.
Sometimes the other tenders
crowd my personal space.
So I’ll give them a little sizzle
or a pop.
I like to dry off on a paper towel,
Let my cook
sprinkle me with salt.

Now here’s where you come in.
Always putting your nasty
greasy
mouth on me
Squeezing me
like I’m just a piece of meat
Hands off!
I’m about to go E Coli on you.

Constantly Changing

I play tug of war with the seas
pulling towards society
while pushing towards individuality

Nothing more than earth’s night light
only slightly relevant
When you no longer shine
Wen you awaken your light overpowers me

Humans rise at the crack of dawn
to marvel at your beauty
living their lives
underneath your fixed glow
as you sink behind the horizon
This spacious sky is now my stage
A vast venue with no audience

It’s my fault
I am constantly changing
Indecisive decisions leave me to
regret my changes in phases.

There are days where I highlight my imperfection
Unafraid of my hideous impacts
exposing myself fully

Ever so often
there is a new side to me
much more darkening

A spherical chameleon
shaping itself to the environment

For centuries, I’ve been trying
to figure out who I want to be
Stuck with my indecisiveness
experimenting in this vicious cycle

Orbiting. Revolving. Constantly changing.

Who Are You Now?

I don’t even know you anymore,
The face I knew was like a mirror,
Your wide eyes reflected mine
with the clarity of glass
Now the mirror is murky
I don’t see myself in you.

Who are you now?
If words could describe you
they would fade
from the ripped up page.

Your laugh used to be a violin,
sweet and harmonic.
Now it’s a bagpipe,
blowing out hot air.

Narrative Poem

The night was young,
and so was I.
About 5 years old.

Our former apartment
is where it started.
My mom and I got gussied up
to see a friend of hers.

Union Station in downtown St. Louis,
that’s the place.
The familiar place with the resemblance of a train station,
and the yellow glow of a candle.

A restaurant inside the glowing candle is the new setting.
The room was dark but our table was under a spotlight, like an interrogation room.

The vague memory of the kid’s menu,
and the sweet taste of ice cream.
The tall, dark man with the dark hair,
and the gap in his two front teeth resembling mine.

Back into the yellow glow,
and over to a brown wooden bench.
They sat me down, and the man kneeled.
Announcing they have something to say.

Apparently this man with the smile similar to mine is my father.
Not in the way my mother is my father,
But the other contributor to my being.

My developing brain was loading with things I never imagined were true.
The existence of half-sisters
I’d eventually meet.

Maybe it was the enlightenment,
or the sad music playing over us.
I started to cry.

Reflection

Girl, why are you rejecting
What I am reflecting?

I find it quite perplexing
that you are stressing
over something so certain

I’ve been many places
seen many faces
but you’re my favorite.

I know so much about you
The little things you do.
Who else knows you so well?

I know every story you’ll tell
the ways your curls fell
after a long dance session you had in front of me

I know the way your eyes look
after reading a long book
or day-dreaming about your fantasies

The way you glow from your latest obsession
The look you have when contemplating confession

I’ve listened to you sing
the music you bring
You’re my idol

I know the way you look
when you’re judging yourself.
You tug at your body
you say you don’t love yourself

You ask me if there’s anyone who ever will.
Sadly, I can’t answer you.

But I can surely show you

No one knows you the way I do
I’ve watched you grow up
I truly adore you

You are beautiful.
You are unique.
What is there to tweak?

I hope all this love becomes clear to see
the next time you peer into me

But who am I to tell you what to feel?
Why should what I say matter?

I am only a mirror