"My Poems" - 7th Grade

After reading Nita Penfold's "My Poem,"--in which she describes her poems as "not polite ladies," who "won't sit still"--we discussed Penfold's method of describing her poems as people with their own will. We also talked about her use of the title as also the first line of the poem. I then asked them to write their own poems, "My Poems," or alternately, "My Words" (which could extend into other areas of language). These entertaining poems resulted; I felt like they were integrating a lot of the various imagery and tools we've experimented with this year.

Mrs. Jamen, Rm. 207, 7th grade

Mi poema
Daniela G.

Yo platico contigo,
por medio de mi poema,
por medio de el yo digo
lo que pienso, y siento,
porque un poema
es más que simples
palabras escritas sobre
una hoja de papel,
es la puerta
por la que salen
todas tus palabras, todos
tus sentimientos
un poema es como
tu alma, como tu corazón
y lo abres a todas
aquellas personas
que lo quieren ver,
y tus sentimientos
quieren saber.


My Poems
Paola S.

come to other people hard
bringing out “her,”
envious, competitive, calm
emotions that want to unravel
and I can’t control,
they want to come out
and let the world know
but I won’t let “her,”
trying to look flawless,
so she unravels herself
in the lines of paper,
while I crumbple it up
throw it in the garbage,
butr soon she’ll come back
and won’t rest
until she lets my soul free.


My Words
Sergio S.

come to me from vast, fast-thinking
mind. Like wild berries they
have to be carefully picked out.
They come with great forces
almost like a tsunami.
They move at the speed
of sound, from my mind to
my mouth
like a tornado when they
are released, they can’t be
stopped.
They won’t stop until
I’m gone.
Like assassins they can
kill…


Mr. Czoski, Rm. 209, 7th grade

My Poems
Louis B.

hold me down
their hands clench my legs
they go to stores here and there
will they stop?
when they’re 50?
when, when, when!!
they won’t let me free
I struggle and struggle
let me freeee!!
I’m screaming at the top of my lungs
they’re making me crazy


My Poems
Jesus J.

They’re mean sometimes about hatred
my soul will tell you anything
I need it out of me
because it’s mean
get away from
me I need
to write
it out
they
won’t let
me sleep ’til
I write it out
help me somebody
help my soul won’t
let me sleep finally
it’s out of me now I can
go to sleep and have a
good day in school tomorrow
’til the next time I’m mean and
hate I now know to let them out


My Poems
Mario M.

come faster to me than a train
I’m not looking for fame
trying to get myself a name
my poems aren’t the same
what am I trying to aim
trying to light my flame


Mrs. Harris, Rm. 210, 7th grade

My Words
Christy Z.

slip like water through a roofless
roof.
Break a bone or seven, they’re
hot as ice.
Why don’t you ever sew it shut?
Always getting lost, having trouble
finding their way back.
Wanting to know what he thinks,
zip! zaaap!
Burning through water, don’t
give me the chance.
Here to take your hopes,
sweet as sugar, huh?
Torn apart and torn against.
Waiting until I’m deaf, blind, and
numb.


My poems
Alexis R.

are worthless like a monster
in a tree. My poems are wordless slike
a star in the sea. My words are
shattered like a bomb. My words were
scattered far away too long. My poems
are ridiculous like a cat who ate too
much and that is that. My words
fly in the air like a bird.
My poems cry all the way to third.
My words ran that awful race and now
it may be late. My poems are sick,
they need a doctor, they’ll never make
it to somber.


My Words
Elizabeth M.

sometimes don’t mean anything at all.
All people use words,
just not the way I do.
Huh, I feel like the greenest
person in this class.
Nobody understands me.
Well, one person does.
My words get taken the
wrong way most of the time
just like when an itty-bitty
seed was taken in the
wrong direction by the wind
Jeez, I wish it was still summer.
Everyone loved me.

My words,
are they useless to you?


My Poems
Joshua R.

They stare at me
They laugh at me
but they cry for me
They bite me, chew me, and spit me out
but they will always be there for me


Poetry, My Words
Anissa V.

My Words
mean nothing,
trying and hoping for the day
they’ll be heard,
sometimes mean and horrible,
or sweet and thoughtful.
I searched everywhere
for someone to promise me
they’ll listen,
don’t like ugly words,
it’s not on purpose.
Sometimes something else puts words in my
mouth,
I’m sorry for that.
My words aren’t perfect,
but maybe they will be if
someone actually heard them.
They might be.


My Words…
Mayra S.

are like ocean waves
with peaceful sounds
come with laughing people
are free ’til the sunsets
become birds chirping tin the sunrise
are listened
can feel what I feel
gentle as a puppy
see what I see
know what I know