Markietra+Keese

**__Ode__**
An ode to Love. The tears that I cry because of this emotion, this feeling that since I am human I have to feel. The shit that always has my heart aching. My mind told me not to but this feeling wouldn't let me listen. I hate it. It drives me crazy. It's indescribable but once you're caught in this web well, you're in it forever. This thing that I can't tell my momma about because she just gonna look at me and say " Love?! The fuck you mean love, you too young to know what that is..." I could go on and on about you but i won't. You make me so mad but at the same time so happy. Like when I feel you, it's like I'm on cloud 9. You give me that natural high. I don't have to smoke weed or try that ecstasy because you're a drug in itself. I can say all these mean things but your're so addicting. After the first time I popped you in my mouth I have to find ways to feel you again.

I was raised by Don’t touch the walls Put your nice dress on today Don’t act trifflin Keep your hair done kind of family
 * Raised By**

I was raised by I know I raised you better than that I will slap you to next week Education above social life kind of family

I was raised by Big breakfast’s every Sunday morning Big dinner’s every Saturday night God first You are strong kind of family

I was raised by Don’t do drugs Don’t smoke Live above the influence kind of family

I was raised by I always got your back We will always accept you If you fall We’ll pick you up kind of family

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<span class="goog_qs-tidbit goog_qs-tidbit-0" style="background-color: inherit; color: inherit; text-decoration: inherit;">The loud voice is famous to silence, ======

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<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 14px;"><span class="goog_qs-tidbit goog_qs-tidbit-0" style="background-color: inherit; color: inherit; text-decoration: inherit;">which knew it would inherit the earth ======

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<span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',Times,serif; font-size: 14px;"><span class="goog_qs-tidbit goog_qs-tidbit-0" style="background-color: inherit; color: inherit; text-decoration: inherit;">before anybody said so. ======

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 * The poem Famous by Naomi Shihab Nye uses imagery to talk about how everything has a purpose in life. The poem has 22 lines, but how it is written is not very significant. The longest stanza has 4 lines, other are 3, 2, or 1.The word famous is repeated many times throughout the poem. I think that it is a good thing that it is repeated so many times, because it reminds readers what this poem is about, and it has enjambments, which gives it more emphases. I love how it’s just a bunch of random things that people never really think about. “The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.” This statement is true but something that people never think about. Another stanza that really stood out to me is, “The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it and not at all famous to the one who is pictured”. I think that Naomi does a really good job at getting her point across, and I think she just sat down and thought about life. The makes readers think and gives off a sense of curiosity. I imagined all of these things and how it would be like without them. She takes the little things and makes them relevant. **======

Streets

A man leaves the world

and the streets he lived on

grow a little shorter.

One more window dark

in this city, the figs on his branches

will soften for birds.

If we stand quietly enough evenings

there grows a whole company of us

standing quietly together.

overhead loud grackles are claiming their trees

and the sky which sews and sews, tirelessly sewing,

drops her purple hem.

Each thing in its time, in its place,

it would be nice to think the same about people.

Some people do. They sleep completely,

waking refreshed. Others live in two worlds,

the lost and remembered.

They sleep twice, once for the one who is gone,

once for themselves. They dream thickly,

dream double, they wake from a dream

into another one, they walk the short streets

calling out names, and then they answer.

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 * The poem Streets by Naomi Shihab Nye uses imagery to tell the story about to sides to every world. I think that it’s a poem for people that have two sides to themselves and the others who have life figured out. This poem has no rhyme schemes of repetition. The poem is written with enjambments, first and second stanzas are two lines and the last ones have eight lines; nothing is repeated. “Some people do. They sleep completely,waking refreshed. Others live in two worlds,the lost and remembered.” I think that the poet is saying that no one is the same. Some people are slackers and does not know what they want while others do. She also describes how things are perfect in the world and if people could have that glance of perfection: “Each thing in its time, in its place,it would be nice to think the same about people.” I think that this means that things could be much smoother if there was some type of blueprint to tell us what we need to do with our lives. The last thing that I like about this poem is that it starts off with death. “A man leaves the worldand the streets he lived on grow a little shorter.” I like that it tell about death first, and then the struggle we have to go through to get there. I think the poem is disappointment. The poet is disappointed about the so many imperfection that people have. I image a satisfied person, someone happy with there life, then another person dealing with struggles. The poem makes you think about yourself and wether your life is all that great. **======

The Words Under the Words BY [|NAOMI SHIHAB NYE] //for Sitti Khadra, north of Jerusalem// My grandmother’s hands recognize grapes, the damp shine of a goat’s new skin. When I was sick they followed me, I woke from the long fever to find them covering my head like cool prayers.

My grandmother’s days are made of bread, a round pat-pat and the slow baking. She waits by the oven watching a strange car circle the streets. Maybe it holds her son, lost to America. More often, tourists, who kneel and weep at mysterious shrines. She knows how often mail arrives, how rarely there is a letter. When one comes, she announces it, a miracle, listening to it read again and again in the dim evening light.

My grandmother’s voice says nothing can surprise her. Take her the shotgun wound and the crippled baby. She knows the spaces we travel through, the messages we cannot send—our voices are short and would get lost on the journey. Farewell to the husband’s coat, the ones she has loved and nourished, who fly from her like seeds into a deep sky. They will plant themselves. We will all die.

My grandmother’s eyes say Allah is everywhere, even in death. When she talks of the orchard and the new olive press, when she tells the stories of Joha and his foolish wisdoms, He is her first thought, what she really thinks of is His name. “Answer, if you hear the words under the words— otherwise it is just a world with a lot of rough edges, difficult to get through, and our pockets full of stones.”

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**The poem Words Under the Words, by Naomi Shishab Nye uses descriptive language to tell the story about what her grandmother was like. There is no type of rhyme scheme, but there are enjambments. I notice that writing a poem this way is the style of the poet. All her punctuation is normal and follows the rules. She repeats the words "My Grandmother" a lot in the poem. I like that she does that because it reminds the reader that this is not just an ordinary person out on the street, this is someone important to her, close to her, her grandmother. She describes her grandmother in a unique way to me. "My grandmother’s voice says nothing can surprise her. Take her to the shotgun wound and the crippled baby. “ It’s metaphoric. Without saying that her grandmother is a strong women, she say that she cannot be surprised, a gunshot wound or a crippled baby won’t send shivers down her spine. I also like that she explains the title of her poem; “Answer, if you hear the words under the words otherwise it is just a world with a lot of rough edges, difficult to get through, and our pockets full of stones.” I think that is saying don’t stay in black in white, but look at the grey areas. This poem gives you a home worth feeling. I can image her grandmother and what she was like.** ======

I love you.
I LOVE YOU**" will be capitalized to show emphases to things. After I find my inspiration, I'll just freestyle something, memorize it, write it down later, then revise it.**
 * I write my poems with laziness. I never want to forget what im saying so I write as one stanza, and every time I take a break, I start a new line. I usually get inspiration from things that I am going through, or at a point in time I have experienced. Things like " **