Children don't understand (Angelou Prompt Poem)

I don't know why my mom left,
Dad explained to us that mom is depressed,
Except children don't understand depressed.

Mom thinks another baby would make her better,
But dad thought that on top of raising her first son,
Four was enough,
So he went out and got a quick snip.

When mom found out,
She was very unhappy,
Eventually she stopped fighting with dad,
And stopped coming home every night.

Dad found out she was pregnant with another man's kid,
So dad filed for divorce,
Except children don't understand divorce,
And they certainly don't understand,
When mom backs the van out of the driveway,
With your brother in the back seat,
Why she wouldn't come back for six years.

(A/N This poem was prompted by a line in Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.)

Maya Angelou Questions

1.    A caged bird sings, because performing is a distraction. Performing keeps the mind numb from the longing. As it looks beyond the thin, metal bars holding it in its tiny heart breaks, but it sings another long note in hopes that one day it will perform for only itself. The caged bird sings, because singing is better than screaming.

3.   Dreams tell us things that even we may not know about our selves. When you stare in the mirror of your bedroom vanity, and watch your teeth fall out of your head... It means you're stressed. When you find a dead crow on your porch step... It means that you're afraid of change coming in your life. Listen to your dreams. Write them down and keep them in the back of your thoughts in your day to day life. Dreams could be key components in unlocking our destinies.

7.   My mother has claimed for as long as I can remember, and that is not very long, that I must have holes in my brain. Maya Angelou, the famous writer and poet, claimed to have something she referred to as "total recall". To her, this meant that she could clearly remember every memory she'd every experienced. I believe that I am on the opposite end of the memory capability spectrum.
     Sometimes it's so bad that I couldn't tell you what I had for breakfast yesterday. I'll forget watching full length films (which can be a perk in some instances, since I'm always surprised by the endings). My dad can call me while I'm out with friends to pick something up for him on my way home, but by the time I'm pulling into my garage it'd been an hour so of course I'd forgotten about the conversation entirely. I more often than not walk into a room and then immediately forget why I gone there.
     I don't know why I have these holes in my head. I've never done hard drugs or experienced any head trauma. I still manage to pull good grades in school despite it all; I've just learned to take really detailed notes to reference back on later. I guess I just have to accept that fact that every morning is going to include a frantic search for my keys, because I won't be able to remember where I sat them the night before.

8.   "There's a world of difference between truth and fact," is a quote from Maya Angelou. My interpretation of this links back to her belief in kindness for all people. I think that facts are cynical - they spit venom with every word - and they feel no remorse for telling you how it is. However, the truth holds compassion. The truth is reality, but explained in a way that is aimed at not causing harm.

Dream Threads

(This short story was prompted by an activity in my Creative Writing Class. Each student recalled a dream that they'd once had, and then selected their favorite sentence from that recollection. Afterwards we each chose two of the sentences - one to start our stories with, and one to end it - the challenge comes from filling in the body with details to connect the thoughts in a way that makes sense. Word Count: 278.)

Family Tradition
The faint sound of people breaking into the strange house. A group of exploratory teenagers looking for a thrill.
"This is illegal... We shouldn't be here. It's trespassing." One of the boys mumbled.
"Yeah, and super creepy..." A girl added, clinging to the arm of her boyfriend, "Haven't you heard what they say about this place? About what they found? All the... Bodies..." Her voice trailed off with fear.
"You two need to quit being such scaredy-cats!" Said the group leader as he smirked at his friends. "Those are just rumors that homeless people made up so that no one would bother them when they sleep here at night. Just imagine what cool, old stuff could be stashed in here!" He reassured the group.
I watched my brother's face twist into a devilish grin as the teenagers' dialogue dragged on. He clutched a crusty, blood caked bat to his chest as his fingers fidgeted with anticipation. I looked down at the shiny, new machete in my hands. My knuckles were white with fear...
My stomach churned when I looked back up at my brother. He was no longer smiling. Judging by his expression, I guess it had become obvious to him that I was going to back out again.
"Don't be such a scaredy-cat." He mouthed in a mocking manner.
Before I could do anything to reply, he sprinted around the corner.
I heard the teens' screams cut short, one blunt whack at a time, and the guilt overcame me yet again. My father was going to be so disappointed in me...
Maybe one day I'll become what my family wants me to be. 

If I were in Charge of the World...

If I were in charge of the World...
I'd cancel Fox News, golf, and also speeding tickets.
If I were in charge of the world,
There would be bigger Native American reservations and ONLY free range animals.
If I were in charge of the world
You wouldn't have depression,
You wouldn't have College Tuition,
You wouldn't have homophobia,
Or "All Lives Matter",
You wouldn't have violence towards minorities at all.

If I were in charge of the world,
Cheezits would be vegetables,
All dogs would have homes,
And a person who sometimes forgot where they set their glasses,
Or misplaces their keys,
Would still be allowed to be
In charge of the world.

(Poem format taken from Judith Viorst's If I were in Charge of the World.)

{Pillow} Talk - Collective Thoughts and Observations

Dream Marks on my Pillow by Ana Lancu

Thoughts on the Artwork:

     When I see this piece it is indistinguishable at first. The dark shadows mingle with the rugged creases, but make it difficult to identify the object. It was only once my eyes made out the striped pattern on the pillow case, I was able to see it as an object made from fabric. Almost all at once, the pillow was revealed to me. 

Haiku:

It is confusing,

Rugged creases; focus in...

Stripes on the pillow case.

Personal Dream Recollection:

     I'm sitting in my bedroom at my mom's house. Four yellow walls surround me, as I sit on the end of my bed and get ready for the day.

     Suddenly I become far too aware of an aching in my jaw. The taste of iron assaults my tongue. I open my mouth the investigate, and the mirror meets my eyes with terribly bloody gums. 

    In shock, I touch one of my teeth. To my horror, it immediately gives into the force and shifts backwards. All of my teeth were loose.

    An uncontrollable urge overcomes me. I begin to prod and pull at my bloody teeth until they're all free of my gums. When I finally remove them from my mouth, my braces cause them to slip from my lips like a string of pearls. 

Color Comments

Taylor:
     Haikus:
          -Hey, Taylor! I really love how these two poems tie together with the seasons. I can really feel the inspired colors in your words. Keep it up!
     Acrostic:
          -Great job, Taylor! You managed to tie tranquility into your words. This poem made me feel at peace. Lovely work.
     Free Verse:
          -Hey, Taylor! The scattered elements in this poem made it feel very innocent and enjoyable. Great job setting a mood.
     Narrative:
          -Hey, Taylor! I love the message within this poem. It shows true commitment. "Relationship goals."
     Collage Inspired:
          -The way this story flows reminds me a lot of my native grandmother's story telling techniques. There's always a morale in Shawnee stories, and you managed to capture that same execution. Nice work.

Samantha:
     Haikus:
          -There's a certain kind of mystery to these! Yet somehow you've managed to imply a strong mood with your subtle words. Fantastic job.
     Acrostic:
          -I can feel the pain in this one. Sometimes the darkest work can be the most beautiful. You're brave for sharing this emotion. Keep it up!
     Free Verse:
          -This poem flows in a familiar way. The childhood details are very relatable. Great job.
     Narrative:
          -I feel for the main character, but I still find a hidden meaning in these words. I hope these ideas can inspire girls to not change who they are for someone else. Keep it up.
     Collage Inspired:
          -I've never actually watched The Bachelorette, but the details in this piece really explain the gist of it! Great synopsis.

Leftovers (Color Walk Poem)

Mama always sent me to school with a brown lunch sack full of leftovers,

That’s what we had, so that was what I’d take,

I never thought badly of it until the other kids turned their nose up at my Tupperware containers,

They joked about my zip lock bag sandwiches,

Sat their super hero lunch boxes next to my brown, paper sack,

And for the first time I saw just how ugly it was.

I resented my situation,
The chips finally made me cool,
The kids erupted into whispers,
The kids discovered that day that sometimes homemade meals,

So much so that I stopped eating lunch all together,

Unless I found enough change in the couch cushions,

To buy a bag of Doritos from the school vending machine,

But I was more often hungry than not,

Until a new girl joined our class,

And entered the lunchroom with a brown paper sack in her grip,

And as the first joke was made out loud, 

I half expected her eyes to widen with terror,

But instead she smiled,

And offered the bully a slice of her orange,

Could be better than brand name, prepackaged snacks,

Because there was love in a paper sack lunch,

And never again did I feel ashamed to carry that love with me. 

Fabergé (Color Collage Poem)

 

Eggs are blank canvas,

But you must handle with care,

They are delicate.

Any way you like,

Small paint strokes or dip dying,

Decorate the shells.

Orange like the sun,

With stars painted like the night,

Decorate them for fun.

(A/N This is a three series of haikus exploring the concept of egg decoration. It is based on a collage cutout piece I added into my personal journal. It is titled Fabergé in honor of history’s most notable Easter egg decorator, who made decorative eggs for the Russian Imperial family from 1885-1916.) 

Welcome Home (Color Story)

(A/N This prompt is an experiment to convey a color throughout each paragraph using descriptive imagery and emotion. Word Count: 308. )

      While you’re on tour, everything is blue. The sun beats down from a clear, morning sky. The light bounces on the ripples in the seemingly endless ocean. The men on the ship wear their Navy uniforms, and a picture of your daughter – her happy smile and bright eyes – is the only thing you need to make it through the day.

      When the ship passes through storm waters, everything is grey. The dark, swirling clouds block out the sun. The thick ocean mist blurs your vision. The roar of the waves muffle the men’s screams into dull shrills. When the ship jerks suddenly in the opposite direction, your head hits a steel door frame with dull thud. You fall unconscious.

      Mourning is darker than the storm waters; mourning is black. There’s a pit in your chest you can’t fill. The doctors say that you may never talk, let alone walk again. Permanent brain damage is the diagnosis. Your wife’s forced smile isn’t enough to hide her running mascara. Rejection leads into depression; you think you may be going mad from boredom as your body heals slower than the doctors expected. Your desire to speak cannot overtake your body’s paralysis. You take extra painkillers so you can stare at the inside of your eyelids instead of the dark corners of your hospital room.

      Recovery is a sweet pink. Your wife’s regular rosiness begins to return once she sees you walk to the Hospital cafeteria for the first time. Eventually, they allow you to return home, and you spend all that night watching princess movies on the couch with your daughter. Much to your relief, she doesn’t seem bothered by the new slur and stutter to your voice. Finally, your welcome home party can happen; your wife makes your favorite strawberry cake, and all your friends toast to glass of rose.  

Paint Chip Poetry

(A/N: The following haikus were based off two separate, orange and a blue tone, paint swatches.)

Orchards

Sunny fruits harvest,

Oranges, nectarine, peach,

Ripe for the taking.

Discovery

Contemplate yourself,

Get lost in those pensive skies,

Do your soul seeking. 

(A/N The following acrostic poem was based on the color swatch Soft Suede. The theme was derived from classic mobsters and their suede fashion, but I decided to drive a more modern spin on the term "gangster" by focusing on the Los Angeles Latinx gang rivalries.)

Gangster

Slicked back hair, loud dogs, gold grills, tattoos on their faces and necks,

Old to new ways, the gangsters traded in their suede for chains,

Flask half full of mind warping liquor, a worm swims in its depths, a joint is passed between their teeth,

Track marks dotting their mother's arms, 

Sour faces and boiling blood, their culture bonds them as a family,

Upkeep their reputation, break fingers to settle debts,

East side represent, selling dope to Suburbia, 

Dead bodies dumped in the allies as a warning to the other crews,

Eternal pride to their lord. 

(A/N: The following free verse poem was based on a green color palette. While the colors bear royal names like Emerald Shore and Island Time the shades themselves are not vibrant at all - they're either very dark or hazy - it's deceptive. So this poem describes a place that is not what it seems, and therefor derives its name from two deceitful sources: a mirage being a hallucination, and the lotus being infamous in Greek legend for trapping people in time.)

Lotus Mirage 

Time on the island ticked by in an unnatural fashion, but no one complained,

We spent every long day on the beach, splashing in the waves,

Everyone proclaimed Lotus Oasis was the place to be,

My family were on their knees begging for a visit,

When our week on the island drudged on for what felt like a month, 

I began to tire of the sun,

But I wished that I had appreciated it more when it vanished behind the clouds,

A tropical storm that no one had predicted was quickly approaching,

The only road off the island was backed up because of the rain,

I stared out the window at the beach while our car sat still in the line of traffic,

The drizzle glazed the sand over like glass, 

The normally blue bay waters had morphed into a pale, brothy puddle that crashed against the emerald shores like a spirit clawing its way from the other world,

Time passed unnaturally on the island, but as we watched the bodies crawl from the water, I wished that we'd never visited. 

(A/N The following Narrative is about scorn and uncertainty. The color it was based off was called Anchors Aweigh and can only be described as the deepest shade of purple you can reach before crossing over to black.)

Anchored

That morning on the docks, he promised that he'd return to me,

The way he smiled under that Navy cap squeezed my heart enough to believe him, but not enough to dry my tears while I watched his ship leave the port.

We knew we were battling cliches, a young couple separated by war,

One of us was bound to be unfaithful to the other,

But I was naive to think us stronger,

Months ticked by, ships came and went from the docks, but never with my love,

So many days passed that I lost the motivation to go look for him,

I started to forget what his smile looked like,

I remember passing by a news stand, and seeing in the papers that the war was over, I flipped his engagement ring around in my palm as I stared at the front page picture,

"Well if the war doesn't kill him," I couldn't help but think, as I dropped the silver into the dirt, "He'd better be dead before he comes back to this town."

Comments for Mrs. Fraser

Katheryn:
   I am: Thanks for sharing, Katheryn! I completely understand the complexities of a relationship with sisters - I have two. I'm a dog lover too! I rescued my dog from a parking lot when she was a puppy. I think it's cool that you're so into music; I dabble with guitar and ukulele, but I really admire the people who have the nerve to expose what they create to the world. I don't know if I will ever have the confidence to do that... So, props to you!
   Object Inspired Story: Nice story, Katheryn! I loved that this was a personal story; I could tell by your recollection that it really means a lot to you. I remember the first time I heard the chamber choir sing Fruit Cake too, and of course the initial joy and excitement that came with it. I really loved the imagery in the beginning of the story - it made me recall some memories of my own - great job!

Karlee:
   I am: Hey, Karlee! I really love the uniqueness of this piece; it feels genuine and extra personalized. I identify with a lot of the "flaws" you listed in this piece too (like staying up to late, being wary of growing up, yet also being ready to be done with high school). I can tell that you thought deep about what you wanted people to know about you. Thanks for sharing!
   Object Inspired Story: Hey, Karlee! I could definitely read some of Diana's humor in this one (Tell her Charli says hi if you see her). Anyways, it's a very funny piece overall. I love the inspiration behind it, and the subtle "whatever" humors scattered throughout your writing. Keep it up!

Hannah:
   I am: This is super nice, Hannah. I feel like I was immersed into different settings of your life through your words. I think you might have a talent for that! I'm a server at Fire and Ice, so I totally get that sweet-relief feeling of walking out the back doors with a pocket full of tip money. Keep it up!
   Object Inspired Story: Hey, Hannah! I'm a big fan of personification, and the fact that you gave these animals such relatable struggles and personalities made me smile. Keep it up!

Taylor:
   I am: Hey, Taylor! I like how lighthearted your wording is; it makes me feel super optimistic and happy. I think it's cool that all of us Springfield residents have the common memory of the downtown, Christmas street lights. I think that was a really good way for you to draw in your readers, considering we knew exactly who the audience was going to be on these pieces. Keep it up!
   Object Inspired Story: Hey, Taylor! I think this piece is interesting, because even though the main character is a child, and it’s written in first person, I feel as though I can still identify with their small struggles and strong emotions. You did a great job at introducing the character in that way. Keep it up!

Ryan:
   I am: Hey, Ryan! I loved the descriptions you gave of the different places you have lived/traveled. They really gave me strong mental images of what they might have looked like. Your writing style gives off a rustic feeling, and that is super unique for this group. I'm looking forward to seeing more of your work!
   Object Inspired Story:  Not posted yet (9/1/16)