Miriam kioko

LA Poetry Project

The first poem is going to be the one I wrote on glogster , the next is going to be my favorite

one and the rest are going to come from other poets.

ANIMALSHiss hiss hiss,As sweet as bliss,Too much harm to miss,Rap all you want I still hate snakes.

Moo moo moo,As annoying as boo,Cows are animals too,Play all you can but don’t go near them.

Trumpet trumpet trumpet,They are walking trumpets,Thud, thud, thud,Sleep all you want but not under their ears.

TOO green the springing April grass,Too blue the silver speckled sky,For me to linger here, alas,While happy winds go laughing by,Wasting the golden hours indoors,Washing windows and scrubbing floors. Too wonderful the April night,Too faintly sweet the first May flowers,The stars too gloriously bright,For me to spend the evening hours,When fields are fresh and streams are leaping,Wearied, exhausted, dully sleeping.

 

 

                   

            

Daniel Boone  by Stephen Vincent Benét

1735-1820 When Daniel Boone goes by, at night, The phantom deer arise And all lost, wild America Is burning in their eyes.

Alice at Seventeen: Like a Blind Child  by Darcy Cummings

One summer afternoon, I learned my bodylike a blind child leaving a walledschool for the first time, stumblingfrom cool hallways to a worlddense with scent and sound,pines roaring in the sudden windlike a huge chorus of insects.I felt the damp socket of flowers,touched weeds riding the crestof a stony ridge, and the scrubbyground cover on low hills.Haystacks began to burn,smoke rose like sheets oftranslucent mica. The thick airhummed over the stretched wiresof wheat as I lay in the overgrown fieldlistening to the shrieks of small rabbitsbounding beneath my skin.

The Dance  by Humberto Ak'Abal

All of us dance on a cent's edge.

The poor—because they are poor— lose their step, and fall

and everyone else falls on top.

A Happy Birthday  by Ted Kooser

This evening, I sat by an open window and read till the light was gone and the book was no more than a part of the darkness. I could easily have switched on a lamp, but I wanted to ride this day down into night, to sit alone and smooth the unreadable page with the pale gray ghost of my hand