To My MotherMom,You’ve helped me out a lot over the years. You’redefinitely the strongest woman I know (besides grandmom, of course!) You’ve been through a lot, yetyou’ve always managed to keep a warm smile onyour face. That was always a remarkable thing to me.I’ve never really been able to do much for you afterall you’ve done for me so that I why I’m dedicatingthis project to you. I know you’ll appreciate it becauseof your love for poetry and writing. Thanks so much foreverything; I can’t tell you I love you enough!Jasmyn ♥
She WinsShe’s been hurt, she’s been broken,She’s been left without a token.She’s been talked about and boasted,And yet, she wins.She’s been beaten, she’s been tired,She’s been burned walking through the fire.She’s been on the short end of the receiving wire,And still, she wins.She’s been thrown to the ground,Alone, with no one else around.Her hearts has had it’s frowns,Alas, she wins.She’s been lost, left for dead,Without a place to rest her head.The pain binds her to the bed,Why does she win?Because she smiles thorough the pain and tears,She laughs and conquers the unhappiness and fears.She’s gotten stronger, wiser, and smarter over the years,And that is why she wins.
She Wins (Explanation)I wrote this poem within a matter of minutes, which issomething I didn’t think I’d be able to do. I was goingthrough a tough time at the moment and my mom has thisthing where she’ll fuss for like 10 seconds about somethingserious and then smile about it. For some reason, thatalways fascinated me because I could never understandhow she could be so calm during a serious situation; Icouldn’t comprehend with the fact that humans could dosuch a thing and my mom did it so well! That’s one talentthat she taught me, especially when it came to school andits stressful nature. When I wrote this poem, I thought aboutthe way my mom would just shake off certain things like itwas nothing at all. To me, that’s like a super power that asuper hero wouldn’t possess. I’m still mastering this power,but I’m glad my mom taught me how to use it.
Be TrueLearn the lessons! Learn thelessons!My heart tells me with greatexpression,To study the lessons of eachpassing life session,And gain experience as I continuemy progression.Learn the lessons!Be true! Be true!My heart screams to me “be true!”“Never back down and alwaysmake due!”“Your life was meant for you; live ithow you choose!”Be true!Break free! Break free!That’s what my heart is tellingme;To unleash the happiness insideof me,And rejoice every blessingblessed upon me.Break free!Be wise! Be wise!My heart tells me to open myeyes;To look closely and realize,That those by my side aren’treally on my side.Be wise!
Be True (Explanation)“Be True” was another poem that took just minutes towrite. My reason for writing this poem was based onhow my mom taught me how to stand up to peoplewithout really stepping up to them. As certain peoplesay “words don’t hurt”, I think that’s one of the biggestlies ever told! Words do hurt; say the wrong ones andyou could end up killing yourself over them. The wayto get over words is to ignore them! It’s a hard thing todo but if you just ignore the hurtful words and surroundyourself with positive energy, I guarantee you’ll feelbetter about yourself. If you be true to yourself anddon’t worry about yourself, you’ll be completely fine.
Snow FairyIn the later days of December, I gaze upon my window.I set my eyes upon the still sights before me;Everything is at a steady sleeping setting.And so it begins, the snow fairy has come!She begins her elegant dance;Her delicate foot touching every snow filled cloud.The flakes begin to descend towards the earthAnd covering everything with its white embrace.It’s funny how the coldest dance,Can warm my soul with every passing second.Winter may not be my favorite,But this dance always makes the coldness worthwhile.Dance on, snow fairy, dance on.
Snow Fairy (Explanation)“Snow Fairy” took a bit longer than the other poemsbut all the same, it happened pretty quickly. I wrotethis poem from the thought of my mother’s love forcold weather. I never understood why until she tookme “because there’s no one outside to come andbother you!” She had a very interesting point, even Idon’t like being bothered by certain people all thetime. I also realize that winter is a beautiful thing like allthe other seasons, but not many people see it thatway. Many people see winter as this scary, cold andevil monster that likes to hang around for a fewmonths. To me, it’s a wonderful season that bringseveryone and everything together.
Damaged SoulThe aspect of my soul seems to wither away, day by day.How will I ever break away from this type of pain?What is there left to gain?This heart is on a never-ending spinning wheel.Will I ever get to feel the real aspect of true happiness?This soul of mine wants to feel bliss!How can I accomplish something like this?Can a soul be so broken to the point where hope is just a word with no sincerefeeling?Can a soul have a meaningless meaning?I have to pick up the pieces to this impossible puzzle and mend it at best.I must finish before I take my never-ending rest.
Damaged Soul(Explanation)I think this may be one of my more deeper poems.When I was writing “Damaged Soul”, I thought aboutall the tough times me and my mother went through.She had more than I did but who had the most toughtimes doesn’t matter to me; we’ve all been throughthem no matter how big or small they may be. Ourtough time really hit home when my grand motherdied back in 2011. I’ve never seen my mother sobroken in my life, and I felt every pain that she did. Westill suffer with this loss and yet we manage to keepsmiles on our faces because that’s all we can do ismove on; that’s what grand mom would wantanyways.
Bonus PoemInnervision by Valerie Morrison (My Mom)
InnervisionI looked upon the waters searching for the coolness withinNot realizing that the love I was holding so closeTo me, died right from under me. I only felt it, not reallyKnowing or understanding; but just thinking that all alongIt was my girlish mind playing with my subconscious again.But when the smoke cleared, and the waves rolled backout toThe sea; I realized that I was again-lost, alone, andEmpty again – Love had died.Now I am craving for a burning desire that I can only see,And only image-but will never be felt.
The Raven byEdgar Allen PoePresently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,Sir, said I, or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you camerapping,And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamberdoor,That I scarce was sure I heard you- here I opened wide thedoor;-Darkness there, and nothing more.Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood therewondering,fearing,Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared todream before;But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave notoken,And the only word there spoken was the whispered word,Lenore!This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word,Lenore!-Merely this, and nothing more.Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within meburning,Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder thanbefore.Surely, said I, surely that is something at my window lattice:Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-Tis the wind and nothing more.Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak andweary,Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came atapping,As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamberdoor.Tis some visitor, I muttered, tapping at my chamber door-Only this, and nothing more.Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost uponthe floor.Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrowFrom my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lostLenore-For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels nameLenore-Nameless here for evermore.And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtainThrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stoodrepeating,Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-This it is, and nothing more.
The Raven byEdgar Allen PoeBut the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spokeonlyThat one word, as if his soul in that one word he didoutpour.Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then hefluttered-Till I scarcely more than muttered, other friends haveflownbefore-On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes haveflown before.Then the bird said, Nevermore.Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,Doubtless, said I, what it utters is its only stock and store,Caught from some unhappy master whom unmercifulDisasterFollowed fast and followed faster till his songs oneburden bore-Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden boreOf Never- nevermore.But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, andbust anddoor;Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linkingFancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird ofyore-What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominousbird of yoreMeant in croaking Nevermore.Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt andflutter,In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped orstayedhe;But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamberdoor-Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-Perched, and sat, and nothing more.Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou, I said, art surenocraven,Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightlyshore-Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Nights Plutonian shore!Quoth the Raven, Nevermore.Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse soplainly,Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;For we cannot help agreeing that no living human beingEver yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamberdoor,With such name as Nevermore.
The Raven byEdgar Allen PoeProphet! said I, thing of evil- prophet still, if bird ordevil!By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we bothadore-Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels nameLenore-Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels nameLenore.Quoth the Raven, Nevermore.Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend, I shrieked,upstarting-Get thee back into the tempest and the Nights Plutonianshore!Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hathspoken!Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from offmydoor!Quoth the Raven, Nevermore.And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sittingOn the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;And his eyes have all the seeming of a demons that isdreaming,And the lamplight oer him streaming throws his shadow on thefloor;And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floorShall be lifted- nevermore!This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressingTo the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosomscore;This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease recliningOn the cushions velvet lining that the lamplight gloatedoer,But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloatingoer,She shall press, ah, nevermore!Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from anunseen censerSwung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tuftedfloor.Wretch, I cried, thy God hath lent thee- by these angelshehath sent theeRespite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories ofLenore!Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lostLenore!Quoth the Raven, Nevermore.Prophet! said I, thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird ordevil!-Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed theehere ashore,Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!Quoth the Raven, Nevermore.
As One Who Having Wandered AllNight by Robert Louis StevensonAS one who having wandered all night longIn a perplexed forest, comes at lengthIn the first hours, about the matin song,And when the sun uprises in his strength,To the fringed margin of the wood, and sees,Gazing afar before him, many a mileOf falling country, many fields and trees,And cities and bright streams and far-off Oceans smile:I, O Melampus, halting, stand at gaze:I, liberated, look abroad on life,Love, and distress, and dusty travelling ways,The steersmans helm, the surgeons helpful knife,On the lone ploughmans earth-upturning share,The revelry of cities and the soundOf seas, and mountain-tops aloof in air,And of the circling earth the unsupported round:I, looking, wonder: I, intent, adore;And, O Melampus, reaching forth my handsIn adoration, cry aloud and soarIn spirit, high above the supine landsAnd the low caves of mortal things, and fleeTo the last fields of the universe untrod,Where is no man, nor any earth, nor sea,And the contented soul is all alone with God.
Democracy byLangston HughesDemocracy will not comeToday, this yearNor everThrough compromise and fear.I have as much rightAs the other fellow hasTo standOn my two feetAnd own the land.I tire so of hearing people say,Let things take their course.Tomorrow is another day.I do not need my freedom when Im dead.I cannot live on tomorrows bread.FreedomIs a strong seedPlantedIn a great need.I live here, too.I want freedomJust as you.
A Hymn to Humanity byPhyllis WheatleyIV.Quick as the word, with swift careerHe wings his course from star to star,And leaves the bright abode.The Virtue did his charms impart;Their G-----! then thy rapturd heartPerceivd the rushing God:V.For when thy pitying eye did seeThe languid muse in low degree,Then, then at thy desireDescended the celestial nine;Oer me methought they deignd to shine,And deignd to string my lyre.VI.Can Africs muse forgetful prove?Or can such friendship fail to moveA tender human heart?Immortal Friendship laurel-crowndThe smiling Graces all surroundWith evry heavnly Art.I.Lo! for this dark terrestrial ballForsakes his azure-paved hallA prince of heavnly birth!Divine Humanity behold,What wonders rise, what charms unfoldAt his descent to earth!II.The bosoms of the great and goodWith wonder and delight he viewd,And fixd his empire there:Him, close compressing to his breast,The sire of gods and men addressd,"My son, my heavnly fair!III."Descend to earth, there place thy throne;"To succour mans afflicted son"Each human heart inspire:"To act in bounties unconfind"Enlarge the close contracted mind,"And fill it with thy fire."
My Soul is Dark by LordByronMy soul is dark - Oh! quickly stringThe harp I yet can brook to hear;And let thy gentle fingers flingIts melting murmurs oer mine ear.If in this heart a hope be dear,That sound shall charm it forth again:If in these eyes there lurk a tear,Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.But bid the strain be wild and deep,Nor let thy notes of joy be first:I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,Or else this heavy heart will burst;For it hath been by sorrow nursed,And ached in sleepless silence, long;And now tis doomed to know the worst,And break at once - or yield to song.
Final NoteMom,I picked these particular poems because they’re allfrom some of your favorite poets as well as mine. Ifigured that some of them would reflect on you as apoet and as a person. I hope you appreciated thisproject as much as I did. Your love for poetry andwriting is what partially inspired me to do this.Thank you,Jasmyn ♥
Bibliography• Morrison, Valerie. “Innervision.” East of the Sunrise: The NationalLibrary of Poetry. The National Library of Poetry. Owings Mills. 1995.Print.• Poe, Edgar Allen. “The Raven.” Poets.org. Academy of AmericanPoets, 1997. Web. <http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15638>• Stevenson, Robert Louis. “As One Who Having Wandered All Night.”Poetry Lovers Page. Poetryloverspage.com, 1995. Web.<http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/stevenson/as_one_who_having_wandered.html>• Hughes, Langston. “Democracy.” American Poems. GunnarBengtsson, 2000. Web. 20 Feb. 2003. <http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/Langston-Hughes/3771>• Wheatley, Phyllis. “An Hymn to Humanity.” Bartleby.com.Bartleby.com, 1993. Web. < http://www.bartleby.com/150/32.html>• Byron, Lord. “My Soul is Dark.” Best Poems.net. Best Poems, 2008.Web. <http://www.best-poems.net/lord_byron/poem-12372.html>