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

In my poetry, I often write about my feelings and not really what's happening. I am hopelessly romantic when it comes to free writing so poetry fell upon that. There's not much to my poetry but in this unit, I did take some time and dedication out although poetry is not my forte. I do not have a title for my found poem because I could not think of anything to entitle it by. The punctuation in my poem isn’t that specific. I don’t do so well with objects, so that’s why I often talk about how I feel deep down.


I forgot about the tears back at home.
The felt even lighter and easier,
just the way I wished it to be.
My parents smiled more often while we were here,
My brother and I bonded.
I was shaking half way,
but however,
I laughed.

Riff Poem:

I say nothing (by: W.S. Merwin)
As I felt your heart fluttered against my chest
while our arms were intertwined around each others' bodies
I grasped the idea
you've intoxicated me with a type of sensuality
I can't think of anything else I would do,
if I had to forget the way you made me feel.

Ode Poem:
The beautiful blooming blood red dozen of wrapped petals.
February 14th.
Counting twelve
I counted down to one
I counted down to the most beautiful rose out of all twelve
I stared deeply into the folds of each petal
With such memory,
I hung the rose upside down
This rose meant so more much than just a damn flower
from the man of my dreams
I wanted this forever
I wanted to keep this jewel lasting
February 28th.
I took it down
I took my jewel off the hanger
In the darkest
most darkest place ever
Behold my prize
My immortal piece of petals.

My found poem
I'm pretty competitive by nature
I hope this pushes me
I don't want to be a normal girl
I'll get a lot of attention
I love that
It's really quite different from where I'm from
So with the experience, I feel like I can do it
I want the world to see my face and hear my story.

"I was raised by"

I was raised by agony within two lovers
Pure until rushed
Rushed into marriage
A mistake just occurred

I was raised by constant confusion
I was pushed and pull between the two
I didn't ask for this,
I was never happy about this

And it's been almost sixteen years and
I am still raised by agony within two lovers
Are they even still lovers
or are they only considered lovers
because there is me?


You hold my ship,
sink it or not,
There's nothing else that is holding me down
but you
i'm anchored to you.

About Sylvia Plath:

Sylvia Plath is an amazing poetry writer. She is also known for a very strange death. She committed suicide when she was only thirty years old. Plath stuck her head into an open oven and turned on the gas, leaving her children behind. Her poetry has been always mysterious because it is always about death, loneliness, and depression. There’s a lot of controversy that all her poems was her log book or personal journal. Also, all the poems she wrote could had built up her consumption with suicide. There’s many reason why she took this path to end her life. Her husband, Ted Hughes cheated on her with another woman, her father’s close friend passed away from lung cancer, leading her dad to pass away very quickly after an ankle amputation due to untreated diabetes. Plath wrote a poem titled as “Daddy”. With assumption, it was probably about her dead father. She wrote a few indirection love poems, such as “Love Letter”, that could possibly be about her ex husband that left her for another lady.
In all her poems, she often uses objects to represent something important. She hardly uses humans as symbols to symbolize anything. Plath could be writing indirect poems to people but refusing to use people in her poems to get through a message. Not all, but a lot of her poems are written in second point of view. Sometimes, Plath hardly uses commas whenever she starts a new sentence. There are empty stanzas in a few of her poems, I assume it’s supposed to be silence if she were reading it out loud like spoken word poetry.
As I read her poems, I always feel clueless yet scared. Her poetry gives me shivers, especially the endings. Plath always eruptly ends with cold words that’d keep you thinking.