LaMaya+Mapp



"Words are writeen in verse may speak volumes when those spoken do not." - **Caressia Combs**

"Poetry is emotion put into measure. The emotion must come by nature, but the measure can be acquired by art." - **Thomas Hardy**

**Ode** Life is like a burning candle Live it, be as fit as a fiddle The time flows as if on a river Now you can choose cause you're stuck in the middle To live in darkness or a world even brighter As light as a feather life can be, as cruel as a devil time shall be, For all you know when the candle's out, you find the darkness creepin all about. So start it now and right away, your beautiful dreams shall never fade, live in glory, not in shame, your shining name will shine always ... I Love Life..

**Sonnet** The flood gates have swung open, I try to conceal it. Walking this cold road, hoping, No one notices that I can feel it. Feel the past come down on me; my smokey breathes rushes out... As the vial image racks my brain till I no longer see. Look around; realize I'm alone, forgotten about. Intoxicated with my dizzying clarity, wondering why it's picked this moment to haunt. Drained of all prosperity, fallen onto the cold ground, dying, I will not. Crashing, losing all thought. Terrified, but concealing it well. You wouldn't even know that I have been taught, not to seek the inner parts of Hell. As I push forward into the deep recesses, I meet the devil, and he is familiar. I have a few guesses; the feeling he makes me feel is peculiar. I remember it, it stuck in my head, as I slowly come to realize, my body is crippled with dread. Slowly the memory dies. How can it be gone so soon? So picture perfect in my brain, My train of thought has meet it's doom. Pushing the pain, Getting to my knees, walking once more. Taking a walk down memory lane. Trying to forget all that was before

**Memories** Old photographs and fond memories, Those embarrassing photos are your enemies. Although they are embarrassing you can't help but remember that day, It was amazing in each and every way. Even the room surrounding you was old, All your memories they seems to unfold. Truth be told it was your room. You remember where you would spend all your time, All day and all night. You would just sit on your bed imagining, And not to forget daydreaming. Trying to remember all the things that happened that day, How the sun was shining how the birds were chirping it was perfect as if nothing could take it away. You walk further in your room you open your closet, Looking at your old clothes I doubt they'll fit. You wonder if those belong to you, Well of course they do. You remember them clearly, How they used to fit you loosely. You walk over to your bed, It looks a lot smaller than you remember. You don't want to leave all these things behind, They were all made of a special design. You smile and walk out the door to make new memories, Ones that you will remember always.

**My Writing Style:** When I am writing poetry, it comes from what I am feeling at the moment. I try to focus on what I am actually into and use descriptive words to describe what I am talking about. Most of the time when the topics of the poems are about non-living things or symbols, I use personification to bring those objects to life. I figure that living things are more interesting then dead things. On the other hand, I sometimes compare feelings to objects in my poem. I am a big fan of using symbolism in my poems because every thing, objects, people etc., has a meaning to it. If it doesn’t have a meaning then it doesn’t exist. My ways of writing these kinds of poems aren’t really strategies; it all comes with the type of emotion and whom I am writing about. If I were to give advice on someone to write a poem, I would only tell him or her to “kick back and relax and let your hands do the work.” Poetry comes in all different shapes, sizes just like people do, and that’s why every poetry someone writes is always good.



"My Life Closed Twice Before It's Close" My life closed twice before its close— It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me So huge, so hopeless to conceive As these that twice befell. Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell.
 * Emily Dickinson**

Just like a lot of Emily Dickinson’s work, this poem is personal and universal at the same time. On a personal level, Emily Dickinson is telling of the losses she has suffered, that they were like death itself even though she hadn’t experienced physical death. She can’t imagine anything that could be more terrible than the two deprivations already experienced. On a universal level, the poem describes the great tragedy of human life, suffering from lost is part of being human. In the final two lines of the poem, Emily Dickinson creates a paradox. If there is a heaven, all we know of it is that we must leave behind our loves and lives on this earth in order to enter there. At the same time, all human beings, to some degree, have known the misery of the private hell of separation and loss because that is an unavoidable part of human experience.  "Because I could Not Stop For Death" Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just ourselves – And Immortality. We slowly drove – He knew no haste and I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility – We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess – In the Ring – We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain – We passed the Setting Sun – Or rather – He passed us – The Dews drew quivering and chill – For only Gossamer, my Gown – My Tippet – Only Tulle – We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground – The Roof was scarcely visible – The Cornice – in the Ground – Were toward Eternity – Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses' Heads Were toward Eternity –

In Emily Dickinson’s “Because I Could Not Stop For Death”, expresses how she feels about death. She was accepting death and was welcoming death. In the poem, she was a woman who accepts death and plans to “marry” him. Death played the role of a suitor who comes calling for her to escort her to eternity. Immortality is the passenger in the carriage and the children are symbols of early life. All of the characters in Emily Dickinson’s poem also help us understand how she feels about death. The journey to the grave begins in the first stanza, when Death comes calling in a carriage in which Immortality is also a passenger. In Stanza 2, the carriage trundles along at an easy, unhurried pace, this tells us that death has arrived in the form of a disease that takes its time to kill. Then, in Stanza 3, the author appears to review the stages of her life. Her childhood, the recess scene, maturity, the ripe, hence, gazing grain, and the descent into death, the setting sun, as she passes to the other side. After that, she experiences a chill because she is not warmly dressed. What she is wearing is more appropriate for a wedding, which represents a new start, than for a funeral, representing an end. Also, her description of the grave as her “house” indicates how comfortable she feels about death. Even after centuries pass, Her new life is so good that time seems to stand still, feeling “shorter than a Day.”

"We Never Know How high We Are" We never know how high we are Till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan, Our statures touch the skies— he Heroism we recite Would be a daily thing, Did not ourselves the Cubits warp For fear to be a King—

 T he poem, " W e never Know H ow High We A re" by Emily Dickinson, means that you have to believe in yourself and your GOD , set some bolt targets followed by true planning based on action plan, and be immune to fear and **possibility of failure to become a great achiever.**

Letter to Susan Huntington Dickinson -Emily Dickinson // Tuesday morning - [1854] // Sue - you can go or stay - There is but one alternative - We differ often lately, and this must be the last. You need not fear to leave me lest I should be alone, for I often part with things I fancy I have loved, - sometimes to the grave, and sometimes to an oblivion rather bitterer than death - thus my heart bleeds so frequently that I shant mind the hemorrhage, and I can only add an agony to several previous ones, and at the end of day remark - a bubble burst! Such incidents would grieve me when I was but a child, and perhaps I could have wept when little feet hard by mine, stood still in the coffin, but eyes grow dry sometimes, and hearts get crisp and cinder, and had as lief burn. Sue - I have lived by this. It is the lingering emblem of the Heaven I once dreamed, and though if this is taken, I shall remain alone, and though in that last day, the Jesus Christ you love, remark he does not know me - there is a darker spirit will not disown it's child. Few have been given me, and if I love them so, that for idolatry, they are removed from me - I simply murmur gone, and the billow dies away into the boundless blue, and no one knows but me, that one went down today. We have walked very pleasantly – Perhaps this is the point at which our paths diverge - then pass on singing Sue, and up the distant hill I journey on. I have a Bird in spring Which for myself doth sing - The spring decoys. And as the summer nears - And as the Rose appears, Robin is gone. Yet do I not repine Knowing that Bird of mine Though flown - Learneth beyond the sea Melody new for me And will return. Fast in a safer hand Held in a truer Land Are mine - And though they now depart, Tell I my doubting heart They're thine. In a serener Bright, In a more golden light I see Each little doubt and fear, each little discord here Removed. Then will I not repine, Knowing that Bird of mine Though flown Shall in a distant tree Bright melody for me Return. E - 