AP Literature Poetry Post

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5 pts. extra credit–and GLORY!! (Not enough points to allocate for GLORY!!)


17 thoughts on “AP Literature Poetry Post

  1. Nick Gossage
    The Graveyard
    I stood, barely 12, before the grave.
    It wasn’t a very large one, but it would suffice.
    I looked down at my new shoes, specifically bought for this day.
    Great-Grandpas Funeral.
    I heard behind me stifled tears of men and women alike, as my own eyes swell, and I too resist crying, but it does no good.

    After the service we walk past a row of graves, they say: “Innocence, Died age 10. Self Confidence: aged 11,” Then a final grave.
    Freshly Dug.
    It reads:
    “Happiness, in danger of being lost.”
    I looked in horror, for my name was inscribed beneath all of these descriptions.
    I wondered at this foretelling,
    Wondering and worrying about the year to come.
    In the Elementary school I detested, full of creatures.
    Or as they were commonly referred to, My classmates.

  2. Phillip Conijn
    The Ax’s Ricochet
    Both hands hoisting it to the sky
    round after round split to pieces
    flying to and fro
    like glass after a baseball comes in contact with a window,
    a father wanting to show all he can be
    one hand, lets try one hand
    still another round fell and yet another
    now you can see the sweat trickling down his face
    I watch amazed, he says one more
    the ax comes down on its target
    unable to pass through fore it has hit a knot
    flies to the left splitting flesh rather than wood. blood erupts from this fissure now in my arm
    i release a cry of pain and drop back.

    quickly it is patched and on our way to the hospital
    but at the roads edge another cry is heard
    I see it now skid marks and a bloody crash across the way
    the dreaded three digits are dialed
    and we assured her help was on its way
    the kids were removed but the mom was jammed
    my arm seeming meaningless now
    i did not imagine becoming a victim and a pawn in saving a life when gazing upon that day.

    • The way that you add in a simile and the direct dialogue of “HELP HELP” helps create the words of this poem into outstanding imagery. Excellent word choice as well, like “ricochet”, “fissure”, “trickling”, etc.
      Powerful poem.

  3. My haiku:

    Oh Subaru, Oh Subaru
    why did you hit me
    and flatten my father’s sled?

    The product of Thursday’s workshop on the same subject

    Siver Subaru Outback Sport

    I can still picture him.
    Racing up the icy road
    chasing the helmet-less boy on his wooden sled
    on a mission to concuss the children of the world.
    He rode his noble silver Subaru steed
    tail-gating the sledder to the summit
    but the boy let go of that ski rope
    his life line to that quad pulling him up the hill.
    The old man, whose eyes slumped shut
    slouched in his seat, not caring to see
    and he hit that defense-less boy
    Like a rag doll through the air
    the boy tossed unconscious and concussed
    his father’s sled lay flat like roadkill.
    The obese old man slid to a stop
    he smiled and sighed
    while the boy lay in the ditch like he was shot.

    -Jacob E. Anderson

    • I love the short punchy way you wrote your haiku, the final two lines get me every time

      I do love how in the second poem you elaborate on the event described in the haiku, and the use of simile at the last line

    • I imagine a young kid just glowing with excitement. Haikus have a weird way of placing an image in one’s head (and letting them create their own image in regards to how they receive the poem in an emotional way) and yours does an excellent job of this by giving such little information, but, at the same time, using an idea which yeilds such emotion. I also like how you broke the traditional 5-7-5 syllabic form.

  4. Freddy Lienhard
    I only really did well with the Haikus, so here are a couple:

    It hurts when the past
    Is there, at your fingertips
    But you can’t grab it

    Chihuahuas shake
    Because they are overloading
    On swag and might burst

    • Timmy Moser

      The first one has very good and relatable. I like your choice of where you transitions from line to line . It makes me feel the meaning of the haiku is just out of my reach.

  5. Timmy Moser
    Pearrygrin Lake
    I stand
    All ten toes dangling,
    Carefully skimming,
    The mirror surface of
    The secluded lake.

    My eyes
    Rapidly change directions,
    Taking in,
    The hills,
    Who guard this sanctuary
    From any disturbance.

    My imagination
    Slowly dissects
    The aquatic forest
    As a lumbering bass
    Weaves its way
    Through columns of milfoil.

    The warm glare,
    Reflects to my eyes,

    As I shut them,
    I think,
    Perhaps I’ll lie here forever.

  6. Charlie Rutherford
    Family Time

    In the family room
    We sit and stand
    Shouting and cheering
    Our Hawks to victory
    Pulling strength from our unity

    While across the house
    We say our goodbyes
    To our mother
    The matriarch
    Taking strength from our family

    • Charlie,
      This poem goes very deep. I like how it not only captures the hawks victory and shows a light side, but is also very serious about your grandma. The transition is perfect and this poem has good meaning

  7. > The Beach is calming.
    > The water cool, the breeze friendly.
    > I have sand in my crack.
    > Tiger Hunting
    > By Michael Moser
    > The grass is greener
    > Than I have ever seen it before;
    > It is a hot day,
    > But the breeze is very friendly.
    > It comes to greet me;
    > I can still hear the
    > Leaves undulating, dancing slowly,
    > As if satisfied by a swim
    > After a week in the desert.
    > I sit under the lone tree
    > In the grass,
    > Nothing speaking
    > Except Mother Nature herself.
    > My Peace could not be interrupted.
    > I see my cat, hunting in the field beyond,
    > Searching for field mice
    > As a tiger hunts his prey.
    > I remember the cool feel of
    > My BB gun stalk.
    > This was my childhood.
    > I slowly take aim at the fluorescent red clay target.
    > I steady my aim, calm my breathing;
    > I pull the trigger half-way;
    > Target in sight;
    > Ready to explode into little bits
    > From the instant the copper ball hits it.
    > I ready.
    > I shoot.
    > All of a sudden a dash of orange fur in my sights!
    > Have I shot my tiger?!
    > Did the hunter suddenly become the prey?
    > No… I missed.
    > The tiger will hunt again.
    > Michael Moser, P. 2

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