Students,
Please post your poems here. One poem's topic must involve Carpe Diem, while the other's must involve identity.
To comment on a poem, begin your comment with "@PoemName".
If the poem has no name, use the first line of the poem as the poem's name.
Thank you!
Coming of Age by Jessica Graham
ReplyDeleteI am a child
I am all the things of my past
I am the hardworking soul of my mother
I am the responsible figure of my father
Never faltering in the face of danger
I am all I see
Flowers blooming before my eyes
And watching them when their time ends
Ads all saying the same things
TV shows on repeats
Leaves blowing on the hot summer winds
Birds eating from the bird feeder
Falling leaves from dying trees
I am all I hear
Rain pattering on my roof at night
Birds twittering all throughout the day
Leaves rustling in the trees
As the wind of the day blows near
Birds dropping pine cones on my caravan roof
I am all I feel and taste
The creamy taste of ice cream on the beach
The sand in my toes while sitting with friends
The warmth of my dog's fur as she lay by my side
The meaty taste of pizza, all so nicer with friends
The feels of claws as a cat climbs up my back
I am all I remember
A shack by the edge of a river
Where I caught my first fish
Laughing out loud with my best friends
As a first memorable moment of high school
Primary School best friends who I'll never forget
I am all I've been taught
Time management is critical'
Drugs are bad for you'
I am all I think
Live life to the full or you'll never live at all
Nature is the best way of calming
I am all these things
I'm like an unborn chick
As I push my way through the layers of my shell
But one day I'll push through the final layer
And be free
Because
I am the woman of the future
If by Rudyard Kipling
ReplyDeleteIf you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
Carpe Diem By William Shakespeare
ReplyDeleteO mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear! your true-love's coming
That can sing both high and low;
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journey's end in lovers' meeting—
Every wise man's son doth know.
What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty,—
Then come kiss me, Sweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
Coming of age by Bonnie Manion
ReplyDeleteExcited by the road ahead,
Not looking back to succor sure,
Savoring both the journey and destination,
Youth seeks newness for discovery’s sake alone.
On the way to a new way
By a route now freely chosen,
Youth thinks not of kin nor reputation;
Rules and roles are quickly, glibly dropped.
Chance encounters serve as friendship,
Family, shelved icons once called home;
Life is becoming a game of personal recovery
From the scarring ravages of Youth’s free choice.
In moments of terror, of despair at life beyond repair,
In moments of elation, newfound love or hope awakened,
And moments of remembrance wistfully visited when alone,
Youth finds himself in those dreams that belong only to the young.
Longings, finally, for a reconnection
To faith, age-old mandates, heart-felt support,
Bring Youth at last home to welcoming hearth
And to long-forgotten family love rediscovered.
To His Coy Mistress
ReplyDeleteAndrew Marvell (1681)
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love’s day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time’s winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv’d virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am’rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp’d power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
O Me! O Life! by Walt Whitman
ReplyDeleteO ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more
faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever
renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.
Identity
ReplyDeleteBy - Cyrus Diaz
Look at me,
it's not my true identity
I have a covert identity,
i wonder if you'd ever see,
my thoughts, my deeds
are all that makes me
but something I may do
may not describe me.
My true identity
has fled me,
fled me to another
to my friends and family
my true identity
is all that makes me.
So lost deep inside
if its not for my soul
i would[d be lost again
my true identity
is hard to see.
Accept who you are
recognize your own beauty
identity isn't a need,
your identity should be your own
a better person you will be known
this is me, this is my identity
my true identity is all full of beauty.
O, Gather Me the Rose
By - William Ernest Henley
O, gather me the rose, the rose,
While yet in flower we find it,
For summer smiles, but summer goes,
And winter waits behind it!
For with the dream foregone, foregone,
The deed forborne for ever,
The worm, regret, will canker on,
And time will turn him never.
So well it were to love, my love,
And cheat of any laughter
The death beneath us and above,
The dark before and after.
The myrtle and the rose, the rose,
The sunshine and the swallow,
The dream that comes, the wish that goes,
The memories that follow!
maggie and milly and molly and may
ReplyDeleteby E. E. Cummings
maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea
The Death of Santa CLaus -Charles Webb
He's had the chest pains for weeks,
but doctors don't make house
calls to the North Pole,
he's let his Blue Cross lapse,
blood tests make him faint,
hospital gown always flap
open, waiting rooms upset
his stomach, and it's only
indigestion anyway, he thinks,
until, feeding the reindeer,
he feels as if a monster fist
has grabbed his heart and won't
stop squeezing. He can't
breathe, and the beautiful white
world he loves goes black,
and he drops on his jelly belly
in the snow and Mrs. Claus
tears out of the toy factory
wailing, and the elves wring
their little hands, and Rudolph's
nose blinks like a sad ambulance
light, and in a tract house
in Houston, Texas, I'm 8,
telling my mom that stupid
kids at school say Santa's a big
fake, and she sits with me
on our purple-flowered couch,
and takes my hand, tears
in her throat, the terrible
news rising in her eyes.
The Layers by Stanley Kunitz
ReplyDeleteI have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was,
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind,
as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
In a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
"Live in the layers,
not on the litter."
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of transformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.
Coming of Age by Rolf A. F. Witzsche
ReplyDeleteBorn into light
an infant leaves the womb,
discovers beauty,
the harsh pain of living
won't mar the soul
that seeks,
discovers,
loves,
cries,
but the cries fade,
the euphoria of building,
gives shape to the void;
love, art, wisdom, truth,
the gems we wear,
are life.
@O Me! O Life!
ReplyDeleteThroughout the beginning, it seems like the person speaking is questioning life and its meaning. It mentions how cities are filled with people who are foolish and faithless while including himself as he says who could be more faithless or foolish. He talks about uselessness and emptiness, but answers his question to life by saying there was a reason you were born and it is to write another verse because the play goes on unscripted.
It could be considered a carpe diem poem as well, which is why I believe it was included in the Dead Poets Society.
@Identity
ReplyDeleteI like this poem because it goes out and says yeah, everyone wears a mask and quite a lot of people get lost in their masks that have been built by society and environment, but it's important to remember who is behind that mask and to let that shine for yourself or you'll lose yourself. And no matter what your soul is pure, it holds your true identity.
@maggie and milly and molly and may
ReplyDeleteThis poem is really cute! If you think about the sea as the world you can consider the last line as saying "it's always ourselves we find in the world". Kind of like no matter what something in the world is going to be reflected in you because you're influenced by what's around you whether we think we lost ourselves or not.
@Coming of Age by Witzsche
ReplyDeleteOkay, there has been something in quite a few poems that have related: the soul's ability to be immune to all. In Identity, in A Dialogue Between A Resolved Soul And A Created Pleasure, and now this Coming of Age poem. It says that the soul won't be marred by the "harsh pain of living" and that it cries but the cries fade. Then Witzsche goes on to say that the building will bring love art wisdom and truth, I think build is more so a word used to say grow.
Identity
ReplyDeleteby Julio Noboa Polanco
(Lemme appologize right now for the fact that this poem, too, is named "Identity". I just like it alot)
Let them be as flowers,
always watered, fed, guarded, admired,
but harnessed to a pot of dirt.
I'd rather be a tall, ugly weed,
clinging on cliffs, like an eagle
wind-wavering above high, jagged rocks.
To have broken through the surface of stone,
to live, to feel exposed to the madness
of the vast, eternal sky.
To be swayed by the breezes of an ancient sea,
carrying my soul, my seed,
beyond the mountains of time or into the abyss of the bizarre.
I'd rather be unseen, and if
then shunned by everyone,
than to be a pleasant-smelling flower,
growing in clusters in the fertile valley,
where they're praised, handled, and plucked
by greedy, human hands.
I'd rather smell of musty, green stench
than of sweet, fragrant lilac.
If I could stand alone, strong and free,
I'd rather be a tall, ugly weed.
Since Those We Love And Those We Hate
ReplyDeleteby William Ernest Henley
SINCE those we love and those we hate,
With all things mean and all things great,
Pass in a desperate disarray
Over the hills and far away:
It must be, Dear, that, late or soon,
Out of the ken of the watching moon,
We shall abscond with yesterday
Over the hills and far away.
What does it matter? As I deem,
We shall but follow as brave a dream
As ever smiled a wanton May
Over the hills and far away.
We shall remember, and, in pride,
Fare forth, fulfilled and satisfied,
Into the land of Ever-and-Aye,
Over the hills and far away.
@If
ReplyDeleteI lovelovelove this poem! It's basically a condensed version of all the good advice about life that comes from and older person to a younger one. The way it's written and the scenes it describes really get me. The talk about dreams and thoughts stand out most, or how when you bet it all and lose it all you can start right over nonetheless.
The only criticism I DO have of this poem is the line "If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you". I'm all for looking on the bright side of every situation or forgiveness, but if someone were to supress all emotion, I think that would defeat the purpose of overcoming all the other obstacles mentioned. Just saying.
@To His Coy Mistress
ReplyDeleteThis, at first glance, didn't really stand out to me. BUT after we went over it in class I realized that it's actually very well done. The imagery and movement in the argument are great as well as word choice and rhyme scheme to convey the emotion of the poem. The imagery about worms and virginity is kinda gross, and I stand by the fact that the whole thing is about sex, but even though it's basically a guy trying to convince a woman to sleep with him it's actually very beautiful in its own respect.
@O me! O life!
ReplyDeleteI didn't get or like this poem the first time around. It lost me, honestly. But the second time I read it and now after seeing it used TWICE in "Dead Poets Society", I realize I can actually relate to it. Whitman is questioning, well, everything. Life. What's the meaning? The purpose? Thing get worn and die and time passes and meaning is lost. What really got me was the line: "Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more
faithless?)", because it reminds me of myself. You think you know something, you feel good, you're proud. Then you take another look and start to question it all again, undermining yourself- You realize that you are foolish in the great scheme of things and, in my case, faithless, so why should the divine answers be given to you anyway?
But the answer to the continuous question is basically a simple meaning behind all drives in life. Because we are. We exist, and we are going to leave some mark. Even if it is small or easily forgotten, we make a mark on the world whilst we are in it, so we might as well make the mark we want to leave behind.
@The Death of Santa Claus
ReplyDeleteEven though it starts out really serious (which is good- for an 8 year old this WOULD be serious) this poem is really funny. xD I was wondering throughout, "What the heck is going on?! Why, Santa??" But the last verses explain it all. Taken literally- as in this child's disbelief actually killed the fat man in red- or figuratively- that to the child, Santa has died, in a horrible way, but it's really only the idea of Santa that's been destroyed- I think anyone can enjoy this poem. The rhyme scheme and enjambment continue the sense of urgency during the whole poem, even when we know it's not that serious in the end.
I'm nobody! Who are you?
ReplyDeleteBy: Emily Dickinson
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
They'd banish us; you know!
How dreary to be somebody!
How public like a frog
To tell one's name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
A Lost Opportunity
ReplyDeleteBy: Robert Fuller Murray
One dark, dark night--it was long ago,
The air was heavy and still and warm -
It fell to me and a man I know,
To see two girls to their father's farm.
There was little seeing, that I recall:
We seemed to grope in a cave profound.
They might have come by a painful fall,
Had we not helped them over the ground.
The girls were sisters. Both were fair,
But mine was the fairer (so I say).
The dark soon severed us, pair from pair,
And not long after we lost our way.
We wandered over the country-side,
And we frightened most of the sheep about,
And I do not think that we greatly tried,
Having lost our way, to find it out.
The night being fine, it was not worth while.
We strayed through furrow and corn and grass
We met with many a fence and stile,
And a quickset hedge, which we failed to pass.
At last we came on a road she knew;
She said we were near her father's place.
I heard the steps of the other two,
And my heart stood still for a moment's space.
Then I pleaded, `Give me a good-night kiss.'
I have learned, but I did not know in time,
The fruits that hang on the tree of bliss
Are not for cravens who will not climb.
We met all four by the farmyard gate,
We parted laughing, with half a sigh,
And home we went, at a quicker rate,
A shorter journey, my friend and I.
When we reached the house, it was late enough,
And many impertinent things were said,
Of time and distance, and such dull stuff,
But we said little, and went to bed.
We went to bed, but one at least
Went not to sleep till the black turned grey,
And the sun rose up, and the light increased,
And the birds awoke to a summer day.
And sometimes now, when the nights are mild,
And the moon is away, and no stars shine,
I wander out, and I go half-wild,
To think of the kiss which was not mine.
Let great minds laugh at a grief so small,
Let small minds laugh at a fool so great.
Kind maidens, pity me, one and all.
Shy youths, take warning by this my fate.
@Coming of Age by Jessica Graham
ReplyDeleteI really like this poem because the poet relates to her past life and adds that sort of personal touch to it. Though life seemed great for the person in the poem at first, freedom and growth seemed to be better than that. In the end the person had not finished with their journey yet, but is still in the process of becoming the women of the future.
@If by Rudyard Kipling
ReplyDeleteThis seems a like a great father to son poem to me. In the poem it seems that the father is just telling his son on how to act in many analogous ways that can be interpreted plainly as descriptive words.
@Identity
ReplyDeleteIt seems that the person is hiding her true identity all the time; And, one could go so far to say that the person in the poem doesn't even like their true self and puts on different masks for every different occasion or crowd. However, in the end, the last lines glorify the idea of showing you true identity to others and loving yourself for who you truly are which is quite beautiful.
@maggie and milly and molly and may
ReplyDeleteIt seems like the multiple people in the poem could very well represent a single person or just multiple people.The imagery of the crab, the starfish, the smooth stone, and the singing of shell resemble the personal traits of the girls themselves or just one girl. I Think E.E. Cummings is a genius in this poem.
@Oh Me! Oh Life!
ReplyDeleteThis poem mainly focuses on insecurity I believe. The poem goes on to express the fact that everyone may be faithless at one point but change over time.
@A Lost Opportunity
ReplyDeleteI believe this poem is, simply, speaking of a guy who wanted to kiss a girl but didn't have the courage to ask. He long regretted the decision he made that day.
@I'm nobody! Who are you?
ReplyDeleteIn this poem, the poet expresses how horrible it would be to become famous, to become a "somebody" to others. She, as a humble poet, speaks sarcastically to another poet free of fame.
@maggie and milly and molly and may
ReplyDeleteThis poem portrays four young girls that all went to the beach to escape from their troubles. Because no matter what went on in their life, they could always find their true being at the beach.
@if
ReplyDeleteThis peom outlines what it takes to "be a man" in life and basically describes a person who is calm, cool and collected. The type of person that is described however is almost impossible because the person didn't show much emotion.
@the death of santa claus
ReplyDeleteI liked this poem because it gave a clever way of looking at how children grow up. In the poem the child was finding out that santa wasnt real and although his mother was sad because he finally found out, the general feeling was happy because this meant he was maturing.
@coming of age by witzsche
ReplyDeleteI liked this peom because it focues on the reality of life that faces a child when it is born. There will be many good and beautiful times in life, but there will also be many bad and ugly time that we will face.
@ O, Gather me the Rose
ReplyDeleteThis poem was similar to the other poems in this section because it talked about how life can be good and bad at different times. THis peom however had more of a pessimistic view, focusing more on the bad parts.
@O Gather Me the Rose
ReplyDeleteIt means to seize life in the moment while the day is still young and in bloom, because life(summer) lasts only for a while with death(winter) coming right behind it. The "dream forgone" means to do without dreams, and "the deed forborne for ever" means to take back the deed forever. The worms are described as slowly destroying what is left, with time not able to age the worms. Then it goes on to say that it was good to love during life and to cheat someone of any laughter (as in getting them to laugh), but that no matter where we stand, there is death beneath us (in the grave) and above us (probably in Heaven), and "the dark before and after" (before birth and after death). In the last stanza it talks about the myrtle and the rose, two different flowers to represent happiness and love, as the sunshine and swallow represent Spring. In order to live life we need dreams to come and wishes to go, so that we can gain memories in return.
@Identity by Cyrus Diaz
ReplyDeleteWhen looking at someone, only their "mask" is seen, not their true selves. This is described as a "covert identity", something that the person hopes for others to see. The thoughts and deeds are what makes a person who they are, but something they do does not always truly describe who they are. The person's true identity is known only by close friends and family members, it's lost deep inside the person that if it wasn't for their soul, they would be lost again. Making who they actually are, hard to see. In the end stanza, the poem advices to "accept who you are / recognize your own beauty" because identity isn't something one needs, it's your own and only yours. The more you know yourself, the better you will keep your identity from being lost.
@The Death of Santa Claus
ReplyDeleteThe beginning started out as a foreshadow that something was wrong with Santa Claus, leading up to his death after a heart attack. Near the end,a boy believes in the existence of Santa Claus, with his classmates saying he's a fake. The mother is about to tell him something sad, but we are left to imagine what it could be. It could be many things, as this is a coming of age poem, it could be that the mom is telling him that Santa Claus isn't real, and so the first 7 stanzas may be the boy's own death of imagination.
@Carpe Diem by William Shakespeare
ReplyDeleteHere, he is saying to his mistress to stop roaming, but instead to live her life to the fullest as Carpe Diem. She will find true love at the end of her journey. He goes on to say that love is now, not in death, for present glee (mirth) brings laughter. Though what lies beyond is still unsure, so don't delay your life and try to spend as much of it as you can because being young does not last forever, and death will surely follow.