ENGL 210: Introduction to Creative Writing

Attentive Resistance Fall 2019

Fifth Poem (due Thursday 10/10)

Write your fifth poem and post to the blog by the start of class on Thursday 10/10.

You have two different prompt options:

  • Write an ekphrastic poem (in other words, a poem inspired by a work of art, like Ferlinghetti’s “Don’t Let that Horse…”). The work of art can be a painting, sculpture, piece of music, film, or anything else you consider a work of art.
  • Write a poem with a specific object as its source of inspiration (as in Elizabeth’s Bishop’s “The Fish”).
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19 thoughts on “Fifth Poem (due Thursday 10/10)

  1. Heartful
    By: Annie Jiang

    A heart
    it’s pureness,
    it’s soul.
    Red and fiery,
    simultaneously innocent.
    Don’t shatter this poor heart,
    it’s not a rose with thorns.
    It’s magical, eternal.
    A heart full of joy,
    endless wishes,
    and hopes for the future.
    So don’t destroy,
    don’t break it.
    A heartful heart is the entry to heaven.

  2. It is the end of the century and
    Flowers of all colors creep
    Against the grasses, until they lick at the Woman’s naked ankles
    The Man cups her face, gently, tipping her face back
    Pressing warm kisses to her ruddy cheek
    She clutches at his hand, at his neck, wanting Him closer to Her
    He wears a crown of vines and She a crown of fragrant blossoms
    Gold envelopes Them, surrounds Them, bathes Them with its glow
    They are young, They are beautiful, They know nothing but the other
    And the love that warms them,
    Makes them whole,
    Intertwined, irrevocably, together
    There is no world outside of their embrace
    And that does not matter, not when
    She laughs and He holds her closer.

  3. ‘Excusez-moi, monsieur!’
    The waiter runs past.

    He’s sitting so close, I wonder if he loves me.
    I wonder if he stays up all night
    Thinking of me holding his hand.

    It’s chilly and dark now,
    My cardigan whispers to me about autumn
    I feel a breeze.

    It’s empty here tonight
    Like we have the night to ourselves
    I ignore the stars because
    You whisper to me more promises than the moon.

    – Nighttime Coffee

  4. A symbol of darkness,
    inspiring light.
    A laughing clown,
    creating fright.
    watching the world burn
    for fun.
    giving the lawyer a gun.
    two faces, sharing one coin.
    shades of
    the dark knight saved the day.
    the hero we wanted no.
    the hero we needed yes.

  5. The pain of tears
    something that will haunt you,
    Those few seconds with no sound coming from your mouth has you digging within for the pain to come out.
    I felt lost in that pain,
    as if my heart has been ripped from my chest,
    That pain haunts me in my dreams.
    Talking about it stands the hairs on my arms.
    That’s the worst I have felt,
    my all has been taken away from me,
    theirs nothing I can do to replace the pain.

  6. Triumphant
    By: Rodrigo Vasquez

    I see her,
    Her triumphant pose,
    She looks up at the ceiling,
    Her eyes always seeking the heavens.
    She stands victorious,
    Never blinking, never falling,
    Yet, her color will fade away,
    her arm will fall, her clothes will
    wither, her determination will vanish.
    I dread to think about it,
    I see little by little, day by day,
    bits of her clothes wither,
    bits of her color fade,
    bits of dust litter her stand.
    I can’t help but smile,
    Proudly standing, proudly shining
    proudly looking at the ceiling,
    until dusk comes. Yes, dusk
    will come. But, there is something
    beautiful in standing triumphant
    past days of blooming Tulip,
    I see her triumphant in dust, wither and shattered glory,
    I see her.

  7. Ashley’s Poem

    Fire is a love- hate thing

    There is a super-soldier named Steve who reminds me of myself. He has a best friend named “Bucky”; I have a best friend I call “my Bucky.”
    He had bad health problems, so do I.
    He has a team named “The Howling Commandos”; I have a sort- of team I call “my version of The Howling Commandos.”
    All he wants is to help people; I do my best.
    Then he saves Bucky and an explosion in the factory almost killed Bucky and himself, but everything is fine; they survived and kept taking down the bad guys.
    I had a fire in the attic of my house over a year ago.
    No one was hurt physically, except our turtle, but emotionally, we all needed to support each other.
    One thing did help; it’s a song by Bastille called “Things We Lost in the Fire”.
    It’s really damn close to what we went through, even Steve.
    Losing a part of yourself, whether it’s figuratively noticing a change in someone or literally seeing the flames.
    It was because of
    It brings light and heat and warmth and it signals and shadows and flames and ash and it burns everything in its path.
    It causes hurt; physically and emotionally.
    It also brings joy and laughter.
    We’ll get through it, we’ll survive.

  8. The fire blazing hot
    Its orange and blue flare
    Place the pan upon the stove
    The greasy oil steaming
    Its soft and slippery texture
    Add salt and pepper for rich flavor
    Hear it frying
    The changing colors like a sunset
    From pink to orange
    Now its crispy
    Smell the delicious aroma
    The heavens on Earth
    One bite and the juicy and crisp flavor leaves you in awe
    Please never end
    Eventually my lips and tongue will salivate
    My teeth will devour you
    My heart will forever love you
    My stomach will be complacent
    Magnificent you are
    I will never forget your color and taste
    Forgive me for I cannot live without you
    Your life is precious
    But how will I move forward
    If I am hungry and need nourishment
    I will miss you and hope you forgive me
    My dear Salmon.

  9. Look how things depend on
    Have to pick the apple at the right time
    Can’t pick it too soon,
    Can’t pick it at the wrong time.
    Too soon,
    Too late,
    Too soon,
    Too late.
    Does that work
    for you?
    A plucked fruit,
    Taken before it’s ripe.
    Too small
    The color is wrong.
    Bitter Bitter Bitter.
    Wait just a bit longer
    A bit longer.
    But do not procrastinate.
    Or the worm will invade the core
    The firm flesh
    dark with bruises.
    The skin molding.
    Do not procrastinate.
    But if
    You find yourself waiting for perfection.
    You will that the season ends
    Before you could ever find it.

    You don’t want to starve
    Do you?

  10. Glow
    Lorenzo Llanera

    Hips that turn men with awe and
    extend her curves so elegantly
    she sees her redefined beauty as a weapon
    one of the many tools in her arsenal
    unphased by distractions, she finds pleasure within
    her smile welcomes success, a nod to her journey ahead
    she is not composed of fear, or insecurity
    she is not shy, yet
    she says nothing

    her skin as smooth can be, yet
    wrinkled with ambition
    she sees you, yet
    says nothing
    you already know what she wants.

  11. She so pretty but dangerous
    Staring at us with those bright and intense UV rays,
    and yet we can’t see her as clearly.
    Sometimes i question whether she’s really yellow.
    You know, we all drew those yellow suns on the corner of our paintings as children.
    But how many people can tell me that saw that she was with their own eyes?
    Everyone’s attracted to the light and yet our skin cant take it.
    why? we love you so much and yet you hurt us.
    Disappearing and then coming back, knowing that we want you so bad.
    Why do you bring us these intense waves of heat, when you know we don’t like it.
    Kids slurping on their icee and men throwing buckets of ice on each other.
    Oh my beautiful sun, show us some mercy please!

  12. The inspiration flows within my eyes.
    Friends say “This again?”
    The CD is scratched.
    Tossed around my room.
    It sounds like New York.
    The adrenaline surrounds the guitar.
    The drums mirror my heartbeat.
    The record has a few skips.
    Special memories flutter around my mind.
    Oh I really can’t win.
    Past relationships have fought against you,
    But your melody still stands.
    My heart glows with glee.
    Room on Fire.
    My ticket towards youthful dreams.

  13. I can’t help but flinch
    At the first spark before it bursts
    This same thing many times before, but
    I treat it as unfamiliar every time.
    As something to be feared.
    As something unknown.

    They will tell you that
    Flames leave everything seared.
    That lush trees and perfect houses will turn
    Into nothing but charred bits that crumble in the wind and
    Become lost in time.
    They will tell you that flames are deceiving
    “Blue burns hotter than red.”

    But they misunderstand.
    They don’t see that fire is
    Warmth and food gifts
    By gold and blue
    Like the local park in autumn.

    The end, they say.
    I think it is only the beginning.

  14. I would love to spend
    a Sunday afternoon at the park.
    Instead I find myself slaving away
    wishing my toes could sink
    into earthy ground,
    weak waves of water
    barely touching my feet
    edging me
    closer to serenity.
    I wonder
    Would I wear
    a big poofy dress to a park?
    And then I think
    as long as I’m there
    on a Sunday afternoon
    and not slaving away.

  15. Lego

    There is a lonely child sitting in the room
    Surrounded by a lego river.
    She is so occupied.
    In a million little pieces
    She loves lego
    Bricks of different shapes and sizes
    Colors of a rainbow
    Red,Bule, Yellow, Green, White and Black
    Each brick perfectly fitting another brick
    Sitting on the rug for hours
    until her little fingers started to hard.
    Building her imagination world.
    Making a house
    Making a horse that hardly resemble a horse.
    But is her main it is a village
    She loves to create

    Today that little girl is all grown up.
    The lego get replace with a
    Block of wood.
    But in her mind this block is a block of lego.
    That chisel it just another hand.
    She sitting in her studio
    Carving for imagination world.
    Until her hand burned
    But she doesn’t want to stop.
    This is her comfort zone.

  16. Oh how empty I’ve become.
    Drained from coincidence,
    Tired of the same old song.
    Free to do as I please,
    Chained by my belief,
    Sprained by my disbelief,
    In you.
    Down again for the third time,
    I promise that this will be last time.
    I don’t want to wait in vain for your love.

  17. “The Virgin and Child with Saint Anne”

    Red drapes swirling
    Blue fabric falls across the lap
    of the Virgin
    seated at Saint Anne’s lap

    She gazes lovingly upon her young son
    who plays at her feet
    He looks back in curiosity
    hands grasping at the lamb

    Mother, mother, son

    Mountains peak through the distance
    Snow and fog hovering in the background
    of the mellow scene

    Golden grass
    toasty sun
    crisp autumn leaves
    the gentle gaze between a mother
    a mother
    and a son

  18. I heard a rumor.

    It travels through every willing ear, trespassing corners, its presence a lurking fog.
    It swings on the slanted trees, bathing in their missing leaves, in rows of browns and greens.
    It echoes in each horse’s neigh, visible in their silky manes, a rich tint of beige.
    It spins in every golden wheel, the passenger in every velvet blue, its hat a dark hue.
    It lingers in the empty lamps, in the absence of firelight, a sad ecru.
    It swirls in an infinite sea, smiling with glee, in a shameless pattern of daffodil pinks.
    It waves from every monochrome dress, engraved in every thread, a draining maroon red.
    It jumps through every roof, royal crowns of grace, a rusty scented spread.
    It whispers…“c’est la vie”
    Draining every color with a touch.
    Leaving a stunning morning breeze.
    Unmasking the multi faced boulevard of endless scenes.

  19. Elizabeth Yakubova
    Professor Cornetta
    English 210W
    Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee Around a Pomegranate a Second Before Awakening

    Like a Pisces
    In the year of the Tiger
    Soar, I can see now.
    It was truly divine
    Circumstance to float
    Through space and time.
    When suddenly there is
    A bayonet.
    Like a gun with shooting swords,
    I am struggling with
    The accords.
    In control vividly vouching,
    For the elephant in the back.
    The buzz puts me on track,
    And I taste the fruitfulness
    And swallow the seeds.
    Freud wakes me up and I realize my needs.

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