Poetry Challenge

The poetry challenge was combined with a class assignment in which we used the relationship between the form and content of poetry to inform our construction of research paper outlines. The poems we examined for this assignment and then used for inspiration can be found here.

The Hunger for Home by Zachary Oh to be in District 12 in the month of December. To see the snow covered ground and trees for one last time. To smell the bakery bread that stands out in the winter. To see the warm kindling fire in my home. To hear the crunch of the snow underneath my feet. But all that changed for me. For I am trapped in this “Game.” I am on this pedestal. It is nine and warm like spring. The clock strikes zero. And the Game begins. The scent of the blood that is spilled upfront. The sight of that sword striking me down. The last sound I hear is the cannon of my death. To be gone but never forgotten but I am stuck in this wooden coffin. Timepiece by Jasper Constricting your wrist, Keeping time, It’s secretly a suffocation device. A faint hissing perceived, As your neck is wrapped by a deadly creature Like the ticking timepiece beneath your sleeve. As it’s fastened onto your naked wrist, Secured tight, You can picture it like the lethal creature That clenches your neck, As you’re strangled by the deadly timepiece. Untitled by Cynthia I feel like I’m living in a howling beast, Just waiting to swallow me whole. Itching to turn me into a plentiful feast, Seemingly knowing getting home is my goal. I see miles upon miles upon miles of trees, beasties and bugs and fungus and vines. Creatures frightening enough to bring me to my knees, evoking fear and anguish and emotions of all kinds. The beast shows me no ways to get out, no way for a single soul to ever hear my plea. I realize now that none shall know my shout, “Oh Mother, Oh Father, why did you leave me?” Pencil by Brayton The curious object -- Long, slender, yellow, and smooth Resembles a crude wooden spear or javelin To pierce through skin and flesh. As you draw with this utensil Scenes of meadows or battlefields It is not too difficult to think of Its capability to release The spirit from the body. Apple by Leslie blood red round like a cannon ball, flying through the air like a shotput, an apple a day keeps everyone away, as long as you throw it hard enough. Pencil by Stephen I am holding a pencil in my hand. This pointy yellow object like a spear. It is hard, and sharp at the front, At the back there is blood-red rubber. You grip it between fingers, Shove it against paper until it leaves Marks black as midnight. You can imagine using this as a weapon, Stabbing with the black point. Underfoot Predator by Mary A low hum emanates from the darkened room, The vacuum's broad head swiveling closer. Its body smooth, black plastic, it blends into the musky gloom Like a shark in murky water, Weaving through the jagged reef. Its open jaws tear at the carpet, Devouring every stale cheerio in its path, Bristles swirling endlessly, A revolving conveyor belt of teeth.