Saturday, November 6. 2010
This is the thread for your final draft of the "parent poem" you've been working on in class this week! Remember, if you want to remain anonymous, e-mail your poem to me with a request for an anonymous posting, and I'll submit it under my name. (Honestly, I'd prefer for you to post under your own name...but if it's the only way you'll be comfortable with contributing, I'll happily help you out.)
As per the usual, you are also required to write a response to at least two other posts. Make sure your reply is a legitimate response/reaction to what the poster originally wrote; ideally, they’ll be able to reply to your reply! Try to respond to the feedback you receive as well!
Your final post is due by 11:59pm on Sunday, November 7th.
You can find examples from previous years after the jump! Just click "Continue Reading..."
Good luck! I know these are going to be great!
My dad’s low grumbling snores
Resonates through the walls seeps in through my door.
The mental and physical effects of a long tiring day
Has utterly drained my 5 foot 6 inches, 55 year old father.
His days of sitting comfortably in a leather office chair are over.
Hit by the recession,
He has only one co-worker
My dad's high functioning brain
And numerous skills
Could easily land him a better job.
But he wouldn’t leave his boss to drown in debt.
There are more things to life than money,
He says, like loyalty and friendship.
His wide circle of friends and family
Provide evidence of his beliefs.
He also tells me the value of patience,
Something he needs a ton of with my mother.
There are days you win and days you lose,
That’s just how it is.
But he won’t use that as an excuse to slack off.
He is never shy from rolling up his sleeves and loosening his tie
To do the dirty work himself.
He always tries to put a smile on everyone's face
And laughter in everyone's voices
No matter how gloomy a day it is.
His combination of humor and wisdom
Make him the most respected man of the family.
Suddenly, the snores are interrupted
As the sounds of my dad’s hacking coughs
Pierce the walls.
Each cough is like a dagger through my heart.
As great as my dad is,
Papa Time waits for no one.
The immense workload
finally caught up with my dad.
His drive to let us live a good live had aided him
In defying the gravities of age.
But nobody escapes aging and death.
He would never let on his fear for death.
But I know better.
Being the only breadwinner,
He is horrified at the thought of leaving me and my mom.
Maybe that’s what drives my scrappy dad
To go to work every morning.
I can only gape in awe and absorb everything I can learn from this great man.
Almost like a rookie learning the ropes from a veteran.
I just hope he realizes the deep love and respect I have
I would consider myself successful
If I become half the man he is.
I lay beside my mother
to hear the wise words she will say
about life, about love, about beauty.
The room is filled with the smell
of her beautiful roses.
They are vibrant and stunning
She tells me stories with her eyes closed
as she rests on the bed
I’ve heard so much but I know so little.
Her words resonate within me.
My mother is so complex,
so many faces, sides, dimensions to her.
She soothes me with soft whispers
then lashes out in retribution, daggers tumbling
from her painted mouth, scarlet like her roses.
My mother is a rose with many a thorn,
alluring and cruel, dangerous.
To love her is to hate her.
Like a queen on her throne,
right and wrong are her’s to choose.
Whether you suffer or live in prosperity
is her choice,
from her lips come life or death.
She does as she pleases;
there is nothing standing in her way.
Our wills break under her’s.
Superficial in nature, she prays that
we, too, will be striking,
a mirror image, her dreams ours.
She takes me out to a moonlit plaza
and we gaze at the costly garments
trapped behind the confines of glass
“If only you were thinner…,” she would say.
We continue to walk, stopping to glance
at an assortment of brightly colored shoes.
“If only you were taller…,” she remarks.
My flaws and blemishes give me nightmares.
But my mother, beneath the layers of her hypocrisy, strength,
And the glamour she wears so proudly,
is simply that: a mother.
And if she were not,
then surely I would not be
who I am today, for better or worse.
Destined to provide my needs and wants
My mother came home
And started to cook dinner
My mother washed the dished
I knew that she was not done with the day
She wiped the floor and
Scrubbed the countertops
Then, she folded clothes and
Ironed clean pants, shirts and
I knew that she was not done with the day
She removed clothes form the dryer and
Replaced them with wet ones
At night when she sleeps,
I knew that she was not done with the day
Because at night I still hear her
Open and close the washer and dryer doors
At 2 and 4 AM
I ask myself
“When are you going to give your mother
What she gave to you?”
I knew my mother worked 24 hours a day
And barely had enough time for herself
Then I said to myself
“Everyday, you better try and work harder and harder
And do better and better in school.”
So when I grow up
I will be destined to provide the needs and wants
For my mother
My father is a caring man.
He is always there for me,
no matter where he is.
I hardly see him though.
Maybe 5 times a year?
or maybe less.
But i just know he's always there for me.
He's just always
Like a tree trunk, supporting its branches.
When I was young, i remember
he use to give me piggyback rides.
He's so strong.
I can never tell that he is tired.
I love my dad, no doubt about that.
Without him, there would be no me.
I use to always ask him the same question
over and over.
"Would you still be there
for me when I grow up?"
I was always, just always scared of what he might say.
But somehow, the answer is always
"I will always be here for you,
if you decide to look back."
So for my dad,
the only and best dad,
I will say,
"I will look back, so wait for me."
Her hair, curly and brown, shape her face
that is so stern and yet so soft.
Her wrinkles show her struggle,
and her eyes never sparkle.
Her lips rarely move upward into a crest of a moon,
they stay straight like the horizon.
She walks about as quiet as a mouse in her own mysterious world.
Her heart seems cold and empty,
like a rock just sitting there.
So how do I know she loves me?
When I was five I would questionably accuse her of not loving me.
I would resentfully ask her
when she chose to give me the bigger half of the peanut butter sandwich,
and without hesitation, a slow easy response of:
“because you are the bigger half of my world.”
When I was eight and I wanted a beautiful skirt,
that was overpriced and barely a thread of it was worth it,
I begged her and she kept reminding me,
“ your dad would get mad if he knew you spent that much.”
As the tears slowly wallowed up in my eyes,
she took a final glance at the sweater she had been holding onto,
and gave it up and paid for my skirt.
Which ended up not fitting after that summer.
Although mothers are suppose to drown their children with hugs and kisses,
my mother stays in her own world.
Barely crossing into mine.
The last hug we gave each other was three years ago,
even that felt weird.
However, she still unwillingly sacrifices everyday of her life,
just to make mine just a tad bit better,
and that’s how I know she loves me.
My guardian is my substitute mother.
She took me in when I was 8.
She was 48.
She started working 12 hours a day, 6 days in a week in a restaurant.
For she knew with the money she was earning at the moment was not enough fund another child.
She bought me these fancy clothing, while she wore cheap clothing.
She always came home with delicious food to feed me, when she was starving herself.
She was there when I was suffering with sorrow and filled with hatred.
She allowed me to attend school.
She gave me love.
She gave me comfort.
She gave me care.
She gave me life.
She told me she was my mother and I was her son.
And that she loved me.
She did all this for a child that wasn’t even hers.
If it wasn’t for her I wonder what I would have become.
For now I am filled with her characteristics of pure kindness and helpfulness.
Her name is _________ and I am proud to be her son.
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My mother is the sun,
she provides me life and happiness.
But sometimes, she burns me with her expectations and disappointments.
The light she provides is my strength,
with her intriguing stories and experiences.
Her life has been full of cheerful and depressing memories,
After sharing her memories she would start lecturing me about how important the decisions we make are.
When I ask her questions there are only two possible answers…
a delightful explanation with her light of wisdom or a frightening flaming glare.
Usually she isn’t home when I need her to be,
Since her job helps bring her bright and shining self all around the area.
Day in and day out she’s running all over the place;
From Bonita Park to Monterey Park to El Monte… It’s like she’s super woman.
Always on her phone saying,
No, you can do better…
It’s not how businesses are supposed to be… and goes on complaining
Even when she’s tired, she tries to do her best for herself and everyone around her.
She’s such a hardworking person, but even when times are bad…
She shines brightly against the many stressed and depressed beings all around.
This shining person is my mother… someone I depend on all the time, a gentle yet harsh mother.
The strongest, most loving person I know.
I like how you compared your mom to the sun I could have never thought of that... harsh yet the reason for your life, beautifully written.
That was awesome! You can also add how the energy from the "sun" make you feel. You know what I'm saying, that was good! Good job!
Sorry, I forgot to select you and just pressed submit. My comment is down at #4!
i like the analogy.
your mom is like the sun.
it shows another side of your mom
very well written, I read it more then once just because of the content!
I like how you used so much things to describe him. Great poem!!
Great poem!!! i loved how much things you used to describe your brother
My mother is as a demanding person,
asking for sacrifices, asking for more
Life is like a game of chess,
there are only some opportunities that could be taken
My mother is a dreamer
she is always dreaming, forever dreaming
Everyday she wakes me up,
to lead us towards our desired paradise
forcing me to try, begging for triumph
These continuous pushes for success become bothersome
One day she seats me down to tell the tale of one
"This person never tried never sighed and will never strive"
"now she works
from morning to dawn, and wishes for the life
she could have led"
"Life is like a game of chess
One small mistake and all your pawns are gone"
her words replay through my mind
That's when I realize
My mother is a player of chess
cautiously selecting which pawns to move,
to carefully parley with reality
In order for her army
To move forward towards an acceptable future
My mother is a dreamer
Always dreaming, forever dreaming
Great example from your mom comparing life like a game of chess.
I think using chess was a really good way to show what kind of person your mom is and an interesting way too.
Really good comparison to the game of chess. i enjoyed reading this
My Mother is a clean freak.
As I wash my hands
What she told me about money.
She said money is the filth of the world.
When you touch it,
You are stain with impurity.
She would scrub hard with soap,
Letting all the dirty things
Drain down the sink.
Now I have become much like her.
Washing my hands whenever I can.
Every time I touch something
My feet moves on its own
To the oasis that awaits me.
And I would slather my hands with
Plenty of soap,
Hoping to remain clean,
Free of dirt.
Looking down at the faded wound
On my middle finger,
I recall another time
When in a fit of rage
I reached for
The clay cup and smash it
Down onto the floor.
It shattered into many pieces
And the liquid splattered onto the floor
Along with the slimy,
Blood dripped from
My injured finger
In large amounts,
It was only a small tear in the skin.
Because of the wild streak,
I have now become much like her.
Taking advantage of a small argument between us,
I took it as a means to
Vent my frustrations and anger on.
And every time heart wavers,
I stop my hand from reaching the phone.
We had not seen each other for a year now.
I remember I used to never wash my hands unless I was eating, but when I got a dog I would always play with him and wash my hands right after, my hands became really dry. Also, good story, tells us how you came to be like her
I like how your mother describes money as the filth of the world and how it holds a double meaning.
I feel that there is a deeper meaning when you mention washing your hands. Is there???
Your mom seems to be like mine. I was devastated to read about your mom. You should try talking to her, remember you only have one mom.
This also reminds me of how my mom told me that money is flithy and that we need to wash our hands before eating.
This also reminds me of how my mom told me that money is flithy and that we need to wash our hands before eating.
Comparing your mother to the sun is a very good metaphor!
My father is an honest man.
He has never deceived, save a few times when he was a juvenile.
Even if it disservices him, he will always tell things as they are.
He is a volcano; he is known to erupt in a fury of rage
although unlike Vesuvius, he will never hurt anyone physically.
In the aftermath that ensues after the explosion,
he is as dormant and apologetic
as the lake that forms in the crater that appeared.
He enjoys cinema,
specifically the Science Fiction genre.
He is easily amused by obscure humor,
which he replicates in his attempts at humor.
I groan soon after.
we are not always in agreement with each other.
His fiery temperament will surface quite easily if
his combatant is my stubbornness,
and it usually is.
Although his rage may seem untamable during the incident,
he will always give his sincerest
apologies after his conscience torments him,
which is always less than an hour later,
but more often as few as ninety seconds.
My father has always been
a sports fanatic, although his fanaticism
has calmed down in recent years.
His fiery passion for baseball has resurfaced recently,
and rightfully so,
as his favorite baseball team has recently won their sports championship.
Even when times become rough,
His spirit cannot be
your poem of your father is so... so... so... wow
Wow, i feel like my dad is just like yours, getting angry easily
HA! i loved it how you gave me such a vivid broad image of your dad
They will love me forever and I know that
Yet I feel unloved at times
Its not because of the way they act,
it’s about the way they don’t understand
To understand is to love and to love is to understand
Even after a fight, we know we still love each other
The fights bring us together, maybe even closer than we were before
We remember what we were,
Who we are to each other
My mother is a clock
She keeps going on and reminding me of my priorities
And she sometimes she moves back and watches how I can take care of myself
Sometimes she needs to be reset and to be reminded of how much we need her
And sometimes she fixes herself and comes back to normal
She is unpredictable and we still rely on her
My Father is a textbook
He keeps teaching me throughout his life and mine
And is exciting at times and boring at times
He leads me to the point and then lets me soar and explore things for myself
He is well rounded and is well respected as he is knowledgeable
My family is the world to me
They are the reason I am here
And as if they hadn’t done enough, they lead me and show me the right way
They show me the path of love, wisdom and loyalty
Thank you for being the best through all your troubles
I like how you describe what love between a familiy is suppose to be.
I'm glad your so close to your parent I can totally imagine them doing what you described
(damnit, I was tempted to put smiley faces like 10 times while writing that sentence .... and again right now haha)
I love how you decribe you family and how close you guys are.
I like how you compare your parents and family to different things, showing us the certain things they do.
I love the comparison between your mom and lemon cake. I thought the poem was terrific!
I liked how you showed waht your parents taught you(: nice poem
Very nice description about your family, I like your poem.
I found it quite interesting that instead of describing just one parent, you described your whole family! Quite brilliant thing on your part, I must say. Great job on thinking-outside-the-box!
Is a source irreplaceable beauty.
Sacrificing so much of her youth
Caring for her children
Who haven't given anything back yet in return.
But she is sure that one day
We too will do the same for her.
Is a woman of many dreams.
Dreams of traveling the world
And dreams of the future
Which hold so many possibilities.
Dreams for us children
And dreams for the world.
Is my best friend.
I can tell her anything
Expecting no criticism
And just a listener.
I can say without hesitation that
She is the best friend anyone can have.
Is a young woman.
The wrinkles on her face tell lies.
She is younger than I.
Is a happy soul.
Even the darkest, most unpleasant feelings,
Upon touching her,
Become something beautiful,
Is a strong individual,
Walking through hardships
One after the other,
Gaining no scars.
Can be summarized in one single phrase.
My mother is the best and only mother for me.
My mother is the exact same way. You've descibed yours perfectly.
I love your poem and I really feel that it shows your love and emotion to her. I especially love the stanza where you say that inside she is younger than you.
I love how you decribe your mother and your love towards her.
Wow! Beautiful poem! I liked how you described your mom(:
Angela I really liked how you compared your mother to so many things and I like how you described her as such a great person.
You poem is much better than mine and I like how you repeated the "My mother"
He wastes away upon the coach
of the television
flashes before him.
My father rests; saving his strength for the new day.
I watch him.
He roars in his sleep.
He glows with an air of supremacy
but stills seems to be
a lost child.
He rusts with age
lumbering through the house
He seems to not understand
the way we feel
but knows more
than we know.
His profession consisted of creating
and he told me:
“Don’t give up! Never assume.”
He always assumes
And so do I.
His past is scarred
but he never gave up
and made it through.
has taught him about life
what to do
how to do it
before he acts
and even now
he wastes away.
Interesting... I know this is out of ignorance, as I only have your poem to on, but I must say, it seems you have quite the strained relationship with your father. I have gone through similar experiences in the past, I must add. I also noticed our fathers quote of 'Never assume!' My father used to say something along those lines quite often, actually. I just thought I'd add that. Before I bore you to death, I must add that even if your opinion of your father is a poor one, you still embodied that quite well in your poem.
My father is my pal,
he cares for me,
but at the same time, I’m also his friend.
He knows all of my favorite things,
like color, cake, and animal,
just like a friends would.
He has a kind hearted spirit,
always loving me and wanting the best for me.
When I ask if I can go out with friends,
he’s understanding and lets me go.
With just only his presence,
I feel safe.
Although he tells me to do a lot of chores,
I know that it is for my own good.
whenever he’s mad,
he’s not himself and I feel sad,
but I know that he’s not mad at me,
because he’s usually yelling at my brother.
My father is my pal,
so I think we will laugh with each other,
My Brother is Envious
He calls me ugly,
When we are practically identical.
Our personalities are very different,
We have the same habits:
Irresponsible at moments
Everyone that knows us calls us identical
We have the same genes
But the only difference to most people is our age.
My brother, J’Rick Quodie Lu is very smart, sensitive, funny and lovable.
He is the peson who sets my footsteps in life.
He took 12 AP’s in high school,
Second best in the Class of 2010 from Arcadia High School,
And currently a sophomore at UCSD.
Set to far for me to step on
Is it obvious?
I envy him.
He isn’t perfect.
He has many flaws.
He is short,
Not in shape,
Not the skinniest,
Nor has the best looks.
But he is my brother.
He is my role model,
I am very jealous of him,
But now he is struggling and shedding tears.
His life is getting too difficult as he is growing.
I, as his little sister, want to comfort him.
This is the side he shows to my family and me.
But to everyone else, he appears confident.
Forcing a smile upon his face.
I, hoping he can truly have a real smile throughout his life.
Without him at home, there aren’t many smiles around,
He was the joy in our family.
That’s why I am jealous of him.
He can struggle but still keep a smile upon his face.
Wow, i can tell that even though you may be mean to him at times, you still love him
My brother is nothing like that.
I like the poem, by the way
You no wat is funny, when you showed me your rough draft of this poem it was really not like your final. Great Job and i like it even more. :p
I can relate to you. My brother does that too, but that's because he loves me. Good job on your poem.
kkkkkk I like your poem and even though my sister and I am one year apart she's my rival kkkk I follow her footsteps and try to do better. So I also envy my sister too just like you envy your brother.
Someone who've been in my whole life,
just so happened to be my mother.
I never ranted much 'bout my life,
yet she knows me just as well.
She often asks me,
"How was school?"
I tried to cause no worry,
telling her I was just as fine.
To be honest, I really am not fine,
as I realized life was hard.
I managed to fool the others,
with this mask I had put on.
Yet, my lies can't deceive my mom,
as her pitch black eyes,
sees right through my lies.
I knew my mother well,
knowing she would scold me soon,
telling me she hated lies.
I flinched and closed my eyes,
Preparing for the nags,
yet they never came.
I glanced a peek at her face,
only to see her smile,
understanding my pain.
But I was young and foolish,
Not knowing that this wise old woman,
Had gone through just the same.
you and your mom have that spicy personality.
hehehe but i can relate to you and your mom with my stepdad and me.
To Josie, SPICY??! I dislike spicy, but when it comes to describing personality, I LOVEEE it (:
To Vivian, nice poem
My father is a loving
Yet difficult man.
On the outside,
It’s different then what he is actually feeling
On the inside
But he cares for my brother and I
And though he might seem a bit mean sometimes
I know it is because he cares
And wants the best for us
Even though I don’t feel it
At the dinner table every night
If he isn’t making fun of my brother
He tells stories
And teaches things to us
If he’s angry
He can yell so hard
That it scares everyone
Every time every day I see him
We hug and embrace
Showing our love for each other
He goes through a lot these days
Trying to earn enough money
To support me, my brother,
My mom and himself
He doesn’t show how hard it is
But sometimes I can see it
He walks around
Smiling and trying to joke about everything
Because of that
I really want to please him and make him happy
So I try hard
not to let him down.
It's so true how our parents yell at us, but only out of love. Their feelings outside can be totally different on the inside. Nice poem! It felt like I actually met your dad!
My father is a hard working man.
The smell of cologne floats in the air,
As a man, a giant indeed, brushes past me,
And says, “Good Morning,” in a solid, but gentle voice,
His solid gelled up hair,
A wrinkle-free suit,
A tie nicely tied to perfection.
The roar of his engine,
Reaches through my room,
I open my window,
As he drives off in the distance,
Until I can not see him anymore.
Though I do not see him throughout the day,
Until the sun goes down,
I know he’s out there, working,
Working to support my family.
Where would we be without him?
He sacrifice his time, money, and energy,
Just so we can live our lives everyday.
Nightfall comes as I hear the sound,
The sound of the door creaking open,
And hear him say, “I’m home,”
We gather around the diner table,
To share our adventures we had.
The lights go off,
As crickets chirp outside,
But what I really hear,
Is the snoring of a man,
A snore which sound like growling dogs.
Then another day comes,
And the lights turn on,
I hear the shower running,
The opening of drawers,
But this time I say,
“Good morning,” to my loving father.
English 9 Period 4
7 November 2010
Rory is my brother
Rory is the life of the party the kid everyone listens too
He helps everyone in time of need.
My brother has had many jobs from protecting me from my evil other brother
To being a lifeguard, a vet, a librarian, but he’ll always be my brother
Rory can’t be described in one word
But if you had to I think chill would be a good word for the coolest kid on the block
Rory learned to walk at eight months and never stopped moving forward
Rory was a protector a guardian angel in disguise
He had a great imagination and always made up cool new games
Like sword fights and trampoline pirates or his favorite swing set attackers
Rory also never called people names like stupid or dumb
He was kind and caring for all that had the honor to walk in his shadow
He was strong of mind and heart
The most adventurous man in the world would is nothing compared to my brother
My Brother has sailed the seas
And saved Life’s
And caught and relished great white wolves
My brother Rory is not just a brother to me but to everybody
He’s the kid that always shows 30 minutes early to practice and leaves an hour late
He’s the captain the collage teams wish they had
He’s the light in the sky the shines on all of us
Rory is adventurous, crazy fun, and totally cool
He’s the power in those steps that seem to take forever to take
He isn’t fake and shows his true face
Brave, cleaver, and cunning
My brother is the man
He’ll always have a plan to get you out of trouble
But knows when you’ve crossed the line
He’s magical eyes and makes the saddest person happy
He’s a warrior and a lover
The riddle you can’t solve
The ghost you’ll never see
The brother no one will ever be
Really good poem especially part when you said he learned to walk at eight months old and never stopped moving forward and I liked how you described him
I love how when you write you hint at the fact that you know you fall under your brother but that he never takes advantage of it so therefore it's an honored place to be. Great poem.
My mother is a rose
I peel her one pedal at a time
Sometimes it’s hard to understand the things she does
Like eating by texture and crying if the house isn’t clean
Though I know that that is just a disorder and tears of exhaustion
Combined into one woman who lives by perfection
It’s hard for her to accept a piece of work that is beautiful to another’s eyes
She searches for the wrong details, the wrong features
Searches for anything wrong with everything but her
When she looks at a rose, she finds a thorn
When she looks at a wall, she finds a hole
To her, the world is perfectly imperfect
And it drives her insane
24 hours, 7 days
She is a banker, a mother, and a pain
She gets on my back every single day
Though her’s, 6 herniated discs
It’s about to break
But if I could, I’d find a way to heal her pain
Because to me, she is more than just a mother
We share laughs on our way to the grocery store
And we sing along to our favorite song, Careless Whisper
She and I, we share more than just a mother daughter relationship
I love her with a heart that can’t be touched
My mother is too beautiful to be ugly
Too smart to be stupid
And too weird to be normal
We are the same inside and out
And with her, I have no doubts
I accept her the way she is just like my father
And I consider her more than just my mom
I consider her my best friend
My father, is an ordinary man.
He taught me how to shoot hoops,
to ride a bike,
and to snowboard.
He always pushes me to the limit.
"The sky is the limit," he would always say.
When I join something, he would always expect me to go 110%.
If I join a basketball team,
I would go practice 30 minutes early,
and stay after and play ball till the gym closes.
I love my dad,
but loving him is hard work.
If I'm on the computer, I have to study.
If I'm watching TV, I have to play basketball.
If I'm drinking soda, I should drink water instead.
I always hate doing this.
But I always appreciate it in the future.
If my dad did let me quit basketball,
I wouldn't be on the basketball team.
I'm what I am today because of my dad.
I like how you wrote a quote from your dad and how he influenced you to stay in basketball and give it your all.
Lol, Andrew i love how u would of not been on the bball team if it wasnt for your dad. Anyways good job!
I love how you wrote a quote from your father! Nice poem!
My mom is like her delicious lemon cake she makes every Christmas.
It’s warm and crazy good.
You start with an empty bowl, an ordinary
person, just a mom.
Then you add a familiar ingredient
flour as a strong base. She’s as
sturdy as a rock.
Everyone has their own personality.
Like sugar she is sweet and fun,
like lemons she a tart and witty,
like poppy seeds she is generous and can be everywhere at once.
Three eggs stand for her three daughters that
keep her on the edge and super
Baking soda is a classic component and when you add
It into the mix it fizzes like my mother’s bubbly behavior.
When you blend everything together it becomes a yellow paste.
All the ingredients are tangled and intermingled.
It can get really messy and problematic.
You bake at 350 degrees
until it’s a golden color.
But in the oven sometimes things can go wrong.
There’s heated arguments and burnt outcomes
but somehow in the end she pulls it all together.
The wondrous smell envelopes me with a
scent that makes my mouth water.
You cant think of words that describe it.
It’s like my mom.
She’s her own person, someone who’s herself.
She understands me.
When we see people we know or even people we don’t
cant help but smile and remember her as
a great person.
Everyone loves it.
Like how my mom loves the simple things in life. She
loves the smell of baby lotion and flowers.
Orchids, night blooming jasmine, tuberose, plumeria.
And let’s not forget the sensation in your mouth
The sweet and sour taste contradicting one another
yet harmonious together.
Last, she drizzles on a lemony glaze and
Sets it out for everyone to enjoy.
And like everyone takes pleasure in devouring their desert, all I saw was
my mom and how much I admire her many qualities.
Her courtesy, and quirkiness. She’s critical and loud, yet reasonable and charismatic.
And though her lemon cake is just a simple treat, she thinks life is both simple and
complex about life.
Dearest Katie, I loved it! (:
You made me very hungry, and I can totally see how this relates to your mom. Great job buddy. (:
Wow that was really creative good job I liked all your similies
My mother is monstrous and misunderstood
She thinks herself terrifying and controlling
But no matter what she promises, either good or bad is fool’s gold
Hairs out of place, mood swings, and stress present the monster inside her
She thinks she “broke” me, but only enraged the bronco of anger within me
Like a wild stallion, being broken would never become an option
It’s like being encaged and whipped with no food or water
She thinks that she is a professional steed-breaker, but my mare of anger would be her biggest challenge
She uses her spurs of discipline and reigns of torture to control me
But no matter how much she pulls back or kicks, she learns that the inside of me is too much to tame
So when we butt heads together, she surrenders and “loosens the reigns”
She gets off my back and gives me time
She becomes calm and gentle, like a mom and not a monster
My real mom is ordinary, easy to forgive
She is welcoming and supportive
Her threatening promises fall out of my mind when she fulfills only the best ones
With good fashion, she can control her temper and see the other side of things
She doesn’t let stress control her; she controls the stress
My mom knows me well and gives me room to let the bronco inside me run free
Without any cages, whips, reigns, or spurs she disciplines me not to hurt me but to teach me
I know my mom, like all moms, may lose their temper
But I also know that my mom would never let it out on me
She tries her best and would become the winner of “mom of the year”
And I would be miserable if I didn’t have her around
I like how you said "She controls the stress"
Your mother seems like my mom
and i totally agree with you about being miserable without my mom
My mom deserves a break.
my mother comes home from work
exhausted as always.
The first thing
she does when she enters the house
is rush to the kitchen
lay her hands on the utensils
turn the knobs on the stove to high
and prepare dinner for the family.
Without taking a single bite of her cooking
she advances to the washing machine
wash the ones that need to be washed
fold the ones that need to be folded.
she positions herself in front of the sink
ready to clean the dishes that once was accompanied by food
wiping detergent on every single spot
plate by plate.
Her daily routine has been finished.
Once the deeds are done
the time has finally come.
Time for her to relax
rest her blistered hands
rest her sore feet
forget about life and be in her own little world.
For all she’s done for me
she deserves a break.
I know what you mean. I feel that about my mom too, that's why I help her sometimes, make dinner, wash clothes, clean the table. Mothers all need breaks! Good job!
I guess that's how all moms are kkkkkk while I was reading your poem I thought you were writing about my mom. kkkkkkkkk All moms sacrifice for their children. kkkkkkkkk
My Mother is Not Perfect
Her native language is Cantonese,
It sounds cool, crisp, unlike mine
But her English is not as good.
Her vision has become blurry
She does not look like herself anymore,
But she uses the intelligence that she
Consumes and shares it
How does being perfect
I remember the morning after
An earthquake had shook us at night
My mother had asked,
Being the philosopher that she is,
What would be the first thing
You would take with you
During an earthquake
Being as young as I was
I had said money
Money I said firmly
She pondered my answer
And looked straight into
You wouldn’t save one of us?
I had never thought about
Sacrifices back then
I had never thought that if my mother
Had not left Vietnam
I wouldn’t be here right now
I had answered that question
Without a blink of the eye,
Convinced that money was
More important than family
I was naïve, confused,
Without the aid of my mother,
Helping me grow throughout my
I wouldn’t be who I am today
My mother taught me the
Importance of being a family
Capturing the memories
I look up to that woman
Who knows so much about the world
Who comforts me when needed
Who always says the right things and yet,
My mother is not perfect,
And that’s okay
wow great poem i can really relate to this because my parents have also moved out of Vietnam and speaks Cantonese
My father is a complex person,
And I guess I am too.
We're both interesting people
With what I would call
A sort of love-hate relationship.
We have our better days,
And we have our not so good days.
On the good days, most everything goes smoothly;
We talk like a father and son should,
We interact like a father and son should,
And I look up to him,
As a sort of role model,
With a sense of pride.
We also have our not so good days,
Where almost nothing seems to go right,
And we don't always talk like a father and son should,
And we don't always interact like a father and son should,
And I look away from him,
As someone I don't look up to,
Without even the most remote trace of pride.
But no matter what I have to remember that he's my dad,
And I'll do anything for him.
I'll always look up to him,
Always proud, with no regrets; with love.
He's a hardworking man, and I admire the work he's Accomplished,
Including serving in the LAPD for 26 and a half years,
And raising my brother and I with my mom.
I love them all.
I love my dad.
And I always will.
I like how you start off at the beginning with "My dad is a complex person..."
Everyday it’s the same
My mother wakes up
Early in the morning
Dedicated to fill my needs
She makes me breakfast
A breakfast like no other
She wakes me up and says
“Wake up little man it is time for school!”
I wake up to be astonished
To see how much effort she has put
Into making the most pleasant strawberry pancakes ever
After that she takes me to school
Then she goes to work
When she is finished
She comes and picks me up
When we get home she makes me lunch
When we finish eating she washes the dishes
After that she would water the plants,
Wash our clothes, and changed the bed sheets
But she is still not finish
Because I still see her
Making me my lunch for school
Then she makes dinner
I know the only reason she does this
Is for me, because all of this time she
Could be satisfying her own needs but she chooses
To satisfy my needs
She finishes her day by
Tucking me into bed and saying
“Good night Peter, sweet dreams.”
Only to start the next morning the same again
My mother is like superman.
She dresses like a supermodel.
She wears all the most classy styles from every brand there is.
Her closet is made up of Coach, LV, and Ceche.
My mother is working at home.
She and my dad are open a company.
She insists that I inherit the company.
But since I have my own dreams, she supports me to the end.
I will always look up to her for caring how I feel and how she managed to be so considerate of everyone around her.
At times I just lay nest to her like a baby and listen to what she wants me understands or should knew already.
But if she's nagging me about something, I just went to sleep.
Although, I think it is bothersome hearing her nagging now.
I realize in the future or now, they are most important.
She has went through all the things that I need went through later, so right now she is teaching me how I shouldn't give up just because there is a hard test in your way.
Once you want something you strives to be the best.
Such as not even having the money to take private lessons and later on I will be more successful in the future.
She is a sage that can solve anyone's problem, a mother that is the most caring and loving.
A mother that will never give up till' she has met her goals.
She always has a beginning and an end.
I hope to be just as caring and loving as she is to everyone around her.
Just like the Super man, the one I love the most.
Don't like it when your so over protective,
But I know its just because you love me,
You want to keep me forever,
At the same time,
You can't wait for me to leave to college.
You have a laugh that is so loud and hilarious,
It makes me want to laugh,
I mock you,
I stop laughing,
Though your frown is even funnier.
You with your words like knives,
Darts to my goals,
So then I can follow your footsteps,
Of being happy in life,
Encouraging me to be better and better.
You are the type of person who I would go to,
When I'm sick,
But not when i need opinions,
You with your words like nails on a chalkboard,
Always talking about staying in school,
And try better than what is possible,
Repeating it over and over,
And although you are over protective,
I love you,
You love me.
My mom is an ant
She works day in and day out
With family in mind
Small but strong
And no matter how hard she gets stomped on
She always manages to get back up
But when she bites
You don’t want to get in her way
Because you will be injured all night and day
She is the family leader
And guides us to our destination
She is the main part of my family
Without her we will be helpless
So I study hard everyday
To repay all debts I owe
My mom is a hardworking ant
My brother is life
Providing the vigor and soul-enriching
Energy to endure this harsh reality
Yet he is also death
Our vendetta leads to the fallout of his blood-rising temperament
That he cannot control,
Only to explode like a volcano absent for years
Only to puncture me like a dagger
Leaving remnants of his destruction to objects around him
The smashing of the table,
Slamming of the door
And his yelling which resembles a bat screeching through the dark,
But within him is also the power to award those around him
With great happiness and life
Years of being alongside him has inclined me to great highs
He is the potion I drink and nourish off
The one who picks me up when I fall
The one who bestows life to me
Like a garden of undying green lush with life booming to the infinite
The looks of his cheerful eyes, skinny torso, chicken hair, ear-attracting voice, splendid and funny sense of humor
Radiation of life seeping through him
He is the potion
Every sip I take
Every wrong I do
Every right I do
Is his choosing
Give me life
Or give me death
He is the volcano,
Or he is the lush garden
He is indeed MY brother!
As we ride in our truck it reminds me of him
The hard outer shell
The inside is leather… slippery
Just like his moods but comfy and warm
Like his personality.
My dad is my rock
His family is his prized possession
He is there to cry on and hug
But he is also here to lecture and offer advice.
My dad is my best friend
He is direct and confident
Just like me.
When he cries he chokes on the tears that never fall from his face
Just like me.
He doesn’t back down or show weakness
Just like me.
Everyday I strive to be more like him
As his first daughter I feel more pressure to beat the bar he set.
People say I am his spitting image.
Tall, smart, athletic and beautiful.
Just like him,
though I can’t seem to see myself anything like him.
He is my simple dad,
Yet I see him as a god that cannot be touched.
There are two sides to him.
The dad and the other dad.
The father figure who teaches you right from wrong and keeps you in line,
But also the dad that protects and serves his family.
The clay sculpture of the dinosaur I made in sixth grade lies by the computer in his room.
It is a symbol of my sister and me on his back,
As he is carrying us through life.
I don’t think he understands it,
But every time I see it,
It reminds me that I will one day have to carry him through his life
In hopes that he will be proud of how strong he has made me become.
I like how you wrote about your dad and how you are similar to him.(:
I love the comparrison u make between you and your dad. I thought the poem was amazing
My Mother is strong, mentally and physically.
She is a single parent.
She uses all her might to
take care of us.
She is as protective as a lioness.
When struggling with money
she prays to god that times change.
She can be as furious as a bull
when I fight or argue with my siblings.
But in the end,
she will always love me.
I hate when she doesn’t get me new cleats on
but in the long run
she eventually buys me them when she can.
When not working or nagging me
she gardens to relieve stress.
She works day in and day out to support us.
When I’m feeling down she helps me stay positive
She is the sunshine to my day,
she is warm in the inside and always make me
My Mom is the part of my life that
makes me wants to live.
As she walked through the wooden
door of which stress comes. Looking
from side to side of the house,
anger rising with each little
step she took. The house was messy.
Watching her come through
the door lazily with all the
constant stress from work.
We clean the house before
she walks through so we don't
give her a chance to talk
As she sits down on the dinner
table, the work isn't over yet.
Questions about homework,
questions on what we are doing
over the weekend,
questions, that fill her with her
job at home, as a mom.
Each weekend she fills her plate
with weekend homework.
Running a girl scout troop,
helping Sunday school as a teacher,
taking us to and from school when my dad
is away in business trips,
helping my brother with his boy scout
as a troop mom.
She does everything and anything for us,
hero comes in all shapes and sizes,
and she is mine.
The Sky in my world
isn’t clear and blue.
It’s dark and it’s filled with storms
Dark clouds cover the sun,
where the sun is nowhere to be found.
However sometimes, only sometimes
There is a glimpse of sunlight,
where there is hope
A rainbow shines after storms
for merely a second and fades away.
She’s like a devil in heaven.
She takes care of the house.
And she doesn’t tolerate of having dirt in the house.
Inch by inch,
my mom cleans.
And Inch by Inch as I clean the cracks in my life.
The risks she takes.
Looking after us,
having arguments with my father.
Just to bring happiness to our life.
As much as she tries
She doesn’t succeed.
Her lavish spending on fine jewelry,
is the only thing that makes her satisified.
She doesn’t seem grown up.
The sacrifices I’m willing to take
just to protect her from hurting herself.
I cry in pain
as I am the one being hurt instead.
I take care of my mom,
instead of her taking care of me.
wow that was really good, i like the way you described your mother with out mentioning her
Since the beginning,
Greatness can be achieved,
but only through a certain
amount of sacrifice.
The sacrifice she gives
allows me to prosper.
And that prosperity
is taken by me
yet I know what she
gives to me.
She is strict
as a snake,
lashing out with disappointment
as if I was a passing rabbit.
But the lashing will wait
waiting for a mistake to arouse
and I hate it,
yet I know what she gives me.
She loves me
with all her might.
Fearing I might be harmed
or I will fall
standing next to a cliff.
I know and see that its there,
but I try to ignore it,
when I'm near friends.
Although I show no sign
of love back, I have it
deep within my heart.
It sometimes disappears,
yet I know what she
gives to me.
She is my superior,
commanding me what to do,
I follow the orders,
but I hate it.
She doesn't see it,
but I know that
Constant chores that
are gruesome to me.
Pain of inability to do
the things I like, builds
And I hate it
yet I know what
she gives to me
English 9 Period 1
07 November 2010
Cocky and selfish
is what my brother is.
Thinking he should
like a king
just because he is the
Bossing me and my sister
around to do
things for him.
being really close to him
when we were younger.
with each other
and making each other laugh.
Comforting each other
when we would
get into trouble.
And even telling each other
our little childish secrets.
Things started changing
as we were growing up.
Year after year
we would be more
distant from each other.
Acting as if we aren’t even related.
Not talking to each other.
Acting if we are
The only time we actually talk
Is when we get into arguments.
That isn’t a type of
relationship that siblings
I wish to be closer to him again
Just like when
we were younger.
The relationship between you two is very sad and I could feel the emotion being conveyed. I can compare the situation to my own with my brother too.
supports me in every way by
helping me on things that I don’t get.
Sometimes I get distracted easily and do things very slowly,
but she is always there to get me back up on the track.
No matter what happens, she’ll always support me in every way she could.
That’s what I love about her.
Not only of helping me on things, she sacrifices her time too.
When I stay up late doing a project,
she’ll stay up with me until I finish.
Her kindness, her caring, her worries always
manage to help me get back up.
That’s what I love about her.
She sacrificed her time and energy
to help me be who I am today.
She shares her wisdom with me
telling me what kind of things we should do and not do.
The most caring, helpful person I ever known in my life
is that is my mother.
My mom, is different
There are too many things
That I can describe her with
But to me,
She is super, like a superman.
She doesn’t fly,
But she cooks well
She doesn’t fight
But she is very good at arguing
She is not as strong as a man,
But she is able to carry the whole family
Of all the things she does,
Is mostly for me
She is smart,
She wakes up early,
Sometimes comes home late
She doesn’t finish all her work
After she comes home
Since her work last through her life time,
And her work, is me
It is fun to love her
Loving her gives me all the power I need
She is like a peacock,
Protecting me from any danger
I always wonder
What I can give her
After I learned so many things in life,
I realized that all I can do
Is to be useful
Take over her job in the family
And take care of her in return.
your mom kind of reminds me of my mom, and i like how you used superman in your poem
My mom is my best friend,
Always willing to listen,
Willing to sacrifice anything for me,
And ready to tell me the truth,
Even if I don’t want to hear it,
Sometimes we argue and I say I want to runaway,
But it never last longs because I realize she meant for the best,
This is to keep me happy.
The best day of my life was two days after I was born,
Even though I don’t remember,
Because that is the day that my mom took me into her life,
People ask me if I want to meet my “real” mom,
But my answer is simple,
She is my real mom.
Her lectures make me cry so quickly,
Because I feel like a disappointment,
She can make me feel so low,
But I know she’ll always love me,
Because she says it after every fight we have.
She’s not as young as most parents are,
And it scares me,
I feel weak to my knees at the thought,
But forever and always,
I love my mom for her never ending love.
I liked your poem, it's good show your mom, because she really is nice.
English 9 – Period 1
07 November 2010
Poem about my mom
My mom is like a bar of soap.
She makes me clean and pure.
If I take too much advantage of her,
She will soon run out.
She takes the dirt off my hands,
My brothers too!
My mom is the most nature freak ever.
She lectures me about the beauty of nature,
How she loves it.
The trees, the grass, the flowers, she loves them all.
Picks up the trash on the road if there was any.
She lectures me about respect,
And what it does for me.
My mother is always reading,
Eagerly to learn more about this world.
She’s like my very own encyclopedia.
My mom is a very sacrificing person.
She moved to America because I wanted to.
Gave up her job, her friends, and her family.
I don’t know how other moms can compete with her.
But she also is very naggy.
Rants about everything I do.
Nothing I do is good enough for her,
She wants me to do this, do that, and do this.
Before I can finish one thing she forces me to do something else.
She gets mad really easily,
One mistake and you get 2 hour lecture.
Though the bad times, she puts me in front of her.
She tries to get this I want,
Instead of buying herself dinner, she used that money to buy MY dinner.
She watched as I ate and took my leftovers.
I don’t know how I’ll ever repay her.
how true, my mom lectures me about respect! People might be able to connect with your poem! Great job!
Nice job ! really like how you wrote it ;kinda made me laugh.
That was extremely insightful. Sounds like your mom makes a lot of sacrifices for you. My mom wants clean hands too.
She looks straight at me with gentle soft, brown eyes.
She always reminds me of how beautiful I am inside and out.
She see me as a smart, and graceful, yet naïve, and aggressive.
My mother is somewhat of a perfectionist, but still makes many mistakes.
She’s so independent and only takes orders from herself.
She likes to sing loud and proud,
Even if she knows she’s not the best.
You can’t stop her from expressing herself.
When I fight with my sister,
She can’t help but to yell and scream her head off.
She speaks calmly and gently before she explains her life lessons.
She doesn’t scold us for our flaws, but instead helps us fix them.
In the car, she sings with her scratchy, hard voice.
I start to sing along and she tells me how to improve on everything.
She may not know how to sign very well, but she sure knows how to work it.
My mother is talented in many different ways.
She looks at me and sighs.
She says in a disappointed tone, “How’d you get to be that skinny?”
Every time she says that, I feel as I disappointed her.
She can be cruel, but she never lies.
My mom is always so cheerful and always so happy.
Her smile is so contagious,
Once you see her, you can’t help, but to smile.
Her intelligence is as bright as her smile.
She’s so smart and so fun to talk to.
She’s so interesting and filled with wonderful facts you never knew.
Whenever I talk to her, she talks to me not like a mom, but like a friend.
She’s easy to talk to.
I hear her words of advice.
She’s so wise and intelligent.
She has so much to say, yet she only tells me the important things to know.
She give great advice.
Every word I say, she listens from the beginning to the end.
She always listens to me, and then gives me her award winning advice afterwards.
I try to be as good of a listener as her, but it’s hard to be as great as her.
She’s a great listener.
My mom is the best.
She’s smart and funny,
And she is one of my best friends,
But she’ll always be my mom.
My father is a crazy man
Looked for the adventures in life
Never stopping for education
That is all I know about him
My father is a handsome man
Blond hair, blue eyes
On the short side
I only have one picture
To keep me from forgetting his face
My father wasn’t a reliable man
Didn’t watch me, let me fall
From a tree
Left me with an ugly scar
To remember him by
My father is a fading man
He lives on the other side of the world
My father wasn’t a forgiving man
He didn’t seem to understand
That when he left
Me and my sister could barley write yet
And held a grudge for not trying
To make contact
My father is a man that was never there
For me or my family
Left me with nothing to remember him by
But the few memories I still have
Wow, I'm sorry it was that way. Very precise description though
My dad is like a cactus
Strong and unbreaking
Prickly and tough on the outside
But caring and nice on the inside.
His tough exterior covers his warm and caring heart.
His thorns protect us. protects me from anybody that wants to hurt me.
He and I do everything together.
No matter how much I may think I'm different from him
I'm a spitting image of my dad.
He and I have the same horrible temper
But we also have the same fierce loyalty.
When my dad yells at me I know it's not just for the sake of yellling.
I know its because he worries about me and wants to protect me.
I know he tries his best to help me.
And for that I love him dearly.
And even him, a cactus needs something to help him live.
That's what my family and I are.
When he watches me play sports I can see the pride in his eyes.
When he tells me to try harder or to do it better
I know its not because he wants to be criticizing.
I know that he does what he does to make me to do better.
I love my dad so much and I never stop appreciating what he does for me.
My dad is a cactus, expect I'm not sure if he has a warm and gentle side.
I really enjoyed the analogy of your dad being like a cactus. That was very creative.
Good job Mike (:
I love this poem! It really reflects how you feel about your dad.
I love how you related your dad to something so harsh yet you love him so deeply. It says alot about your relationship. Good poem.
How would I live without my mother?
The breakfast she makes, the dinner she crafts.
From the excuses I make, for the wrongs I have done
It’s stunning she still loves me.
It seems to her I don’t know how much of her time and love she had dedicated to me
It is true, I had forgotten.
Every day I live she had always been there,
Within her abilities, make my day the best it can be.
If I paid her a dollar for everything she had done, I promise you she’ll be the richest person in the world.
With every meal she had fed me, I know they were always her best.
In my life, no one is more sincere to me than my mother.
Sometimes I even think she is too good to be my mom and what did I do to deserve such a good mother.
But I think the opposite sometimes, because when she gets uneasy and mad, she turns in to a virtual monster, crushing everything in its way.
But after all the patience, money, time, and love she had given me; all is forgotten.
Not saying she is the perfect mother, in my eyes, she is.
Although she might contradict, I can’t define what a perfect mother is.
From the ground up, my mother, my sister, and I have always had an abnormal relationship.
It used to be that we didn’t understand each other very well,
But as the years grew many and as we grow, we sort of have this relationship that is like friends but not quite.
But she would occasionally have fuzzes about what I had done or not done. But I have discovered how to end it quickly, just listen to what she has to say, don’t try to prove it’s wrong, and at the end, say you’ll improve.
And in the end, I built myself from these arguments.
If I could ask for a better mother, I wouldn’t.
The reason why I’m here is because of her.
So how would I live without my Mother?
Annoying, disturbing, irritating,
But cute, loved, and always mine.
Eighteen, tall, skinny, filled with joy,
Hee is always fun to be around with.
From moody days to happy days,
Hee is always there.
When I have my bad days, I get angry at him for no reason.
When he comes up to me, I ignore.
When he talks to me, I get mad.
When he walks away, I regret.
Helpful, funny, and hardworking,
He will always make my day.
He makes me laugh,
And sometimes even makes me cry.
When he is thoughtful,
I cannot do more but thank him.
And for that, I love him to death.
We are not one of those families on TV.
When they crack jokes and bond every day.
But a normal family...
A normal family would fight at times, and make up the next time.
He sacrifices a lot for me,
When I'm sick, when I'm down, whenever I need anything,
He's there for me.
He hopes for the best in me and everyone else,
And I hope for the best in him too.
Even thought he's eighteen,
He still works hard everyday.
To achieve his goals and get a good job.
He wishes to make his family proud,
By doing his best in everything.
In the past, we were super close.
He would give me piggy back rides, and make me laugh.
But now that he's gone back to Texas,
All that is gone until we see each other again.
After a couple years past, we see each other again,
When I'm eleven, and he's sixteen...
We didn't even notice each other.
Everyone changed since we were little.
We played GameCube, only knowing they were our grandparent's friends,
But then they said they were our cousins.
That's when I remembered everything.
All the fun times when they made us laugh, piggy back rides, everything.
I had missed them so much.
When I was younger, I knew him like he was my own brother.
But now that we have grown apart for a couple years,
I don't know him as well.
But as we mimic the things we did in the previous years, I think, 'my cousin is amazing'
Victor Tran, you are the greatest cousin in the world,
And I could ask for no more.
You help me when I have my ups and downs.
You're there for me when I need help.
You made my day, even though you're not here by my side.
I thank you for always being there for me, and I hope you know that I love you so much.
My mother is like a fish in a vast river,
She can wiggle free,
Of the tight grip,
Life has on her,
She keeps us safe,
But when the time comes,
She will set us free,
Into the worlds' river,
Where we use our skills,
She taught, to survive,
When times are easy,
She coasts down lifes’ river
When she finds herself in times of trouble
She struggles to get up the river.
But with her persistence,
Fights past the toughness,
And emerges on the other side, victorious,
From a young age,
To her now “youthful” age,
She has kept the same principles,
What she likes and dislikes,
And how to treat another person,
Passing them down to her successors,
I was born with a talent,
As a marlin is with a “sword”,
She taught me how to use it,
To fend off others,
To live a prosperous life,
Without her I would be nothing,
An appetizer for a large fish,
But because of my mother,
The base she has given me to grow upon,
Using her lovingness and helpfulness,
She has really taught me to prosper,
In the worlds’ river
The hours put in for us kids,
Can be unappreciated,
For the work
She should be thanked,
For the dedication
She should be loved,
For the love,
She should be praised
Jack (: I really enjoyed your poem, especially because you had a lot of great details!
You sound very appreciative of your mom. (:
From someone who wishes to remain anonymous:
As years go by
You see me change
You stay the same
while my time is arranged
When my grades are low
And you yell at me
Its only because you care
Of what I will be
You give me all these lectures
That I hear before
Yet they are useful
And mean much more
Your hair is brown
And purple in the sun
It is soft
As silk runs
Your eyes have many expressions
Of fear and excitement
And so much more
But mostly love that is pleasant
and that makes me adore
As I climb up a hill
And fall down
You always cheer for me
And seldom frown
I am thankful that I have you
As a mom
You work hard
To show me that
Hardworking brings happiness
My mom is the same way, expect sometimes she goes a little to extreme with her punishments.
My brother got a clue
That's why his name is Leon Lui
Are relationship is crazy
When he's happy, he gets with the ladies
When he's sad, he beats me till he's pleased
He hopes that his desire to transfer to the air force academy
His only fear is that he'll disappoint his grandparents
He sacrificed everything for his school practices
He's good with his friends, good at school and sports
He gets easy A
But still says it's not a pleasing grade
Man I plead for a C
His only weakness, is that he doesn't share his felling or fears
He was born in China but raised in San Gabriel
Now he's in college and trying to join the air force academy
He loves to learn and fly in the air
He hates it when I beat him, He cries when the grandparents disapprove of him
We are a 10, just because we like the Benz,
My brother knows everything about me
He knows what I do in school
He always said
"I get 4.0 and scholarships,
you get 1.0 and phone call homes"
He is right,
Boy those his words bite
We are nothing alike yet we are so close
He says I'm number one on the fools list
If he saw me waling home on a hot day
He'll drive by and tell me where to go and then drive away laughing
But without him, I'll probably be lost on 8th street and when I finally get home I probably get a spanking
He knows me so well, if he had to take a quiz about me
He probably will get a 10 out of 10
Once I grow up I'll race him in my Benz.
I think you mean "Our relationship is crazy" Good job otherwise!
From another anonymous author:
Sitting there like a cripple man
Nothing better to do
But play games
Every time I see him
He’s like a useless person
Rotting away his life,
And play games
Just watching him pains us
Whenever my parents help him
He thinks that they are just a nuisance
He would give them attitude and [stuff]
Even they have always tried their best
I can even see my mom is pain
I just hope one day he will do some thing
With his life
One more anonymous author:
Since the beginning
She has been yelling at me
About many things
But I know she loves me
She yells about my many problems
How I am lazy
How I sit in chairs
How I don’t do work
How I lose everything
But I know she loves me
She yells about the way I do things
The way I talk
The way I work
The way I watch TV
The way I play games
But I know she loves me
Since the beginning
She provides me with my needs and wants
She cares for me
She works all day
To put food on the table
Help me whenever I need it
I always ask myself
“When am I going to repay her back?”
She does everything for me
Buys my clothes
Washes my clothes
Help me with homework
Pay for afterschool
Prepares my meals
I think to myself
“When am I going to repay her back?”
English 9-Period 1
7 November 2010
My mother is that bowl of candy
That sits on the counter in our kitchen.
Like the tootsie roll pops I enjoy so much,
She’s firm yet but sweet.
In times of need, there is only one person I have.
Lonely or upset, she’s still there.
She’s that warm cup of cocoa,
Filled to the brim on chilly winter days,
That invites you and keeps you feeling warm inside.
It’s an absolute happiness, from simple things like this.
And she’s still there.
But here are moments in life where you lick that lollipop
Its sharp edge cuts your tongue
You know you’ve been bad.
She’s still there though.
My mother is what makes me a good person.
She is what makes me bad person.
She is my influence in daily life and my future life.
In my times of doubt or depression
Or that lack of confidence that eats away at me
When I began to question the point of everything
Those times I’ve hated being who I am
She’s still there.
Like a sour patch kid,
The fearsome clouded mood of my mother
Would frighten even the manliest of men
Her words are like burns from the iron
And there is no escape from the fate
As soon as you commit the deed, but
The scary mood soon passes and life goes on
My flaws may be different from hers but there are many in numbers.
Saying those awful things without meaning
When I make mistakes, occasionally on purpose
She’s still there.
Friends have become ex-friends like this.
Her faults are no less than mine, perhaps even more.
The past has revealed it to be so.
Yet, there is something infinite about this one person.
There is something about this person that assures me
No matter the condition, place or time,
She’ll still be there.
And I am grateful to be the daughter of somebody like her.
And when she needs me too
I’ll be there for her.
My father is the coach
For me has always been so, and I expect he always will be
He is advisor, teacher, and leader
Which makes me his student and follower.
He sets a high bar.
He leads a principled life
and expects me to live up to his ideals
Foremost is respect
Respect for yourself, property and others
For yourself- reach your full potential, give your best effort, be responsible
For property – care for your possessions because “money doesn’t grow on trees”
For others – be kind, be courteous, be giving.
“Do it right the first time.”
“Be aware of your surroundings.”
“Practice doesn’t make perfect. PERFECT Practice makes perfect.”
“Prior preparation prevents poor performance.”
“Don’t waste… things or opportunities.”
“Use your brain. Think about the consequences.”
“Take care of your family.”
This is what he tells me, but it’s also what he lives.
My dad grew up dirt poor.
He spoke no English when he came here.
He conquered so many challenges to succeed in life
He excelled in school, sports, and always worked
Despite lack of support and understanding– he had no fans.
If I play a game: soccer, football, baseball, golf
I hear about what I did wrong and how to improve
He always tells me “don’t repeat mistakes”
It is not easy to be his son, but I know he is proud of me.
He always supports my endeavors.
He is not just my coach, but he is my biggest fan.
You described your dad very well, good job, i like your story.
English 9 period 1
7 November 2010
As the clock strikes 12
I’m still on the computer
hoping that my mom won't come in
hearing the slightest creak
I turn off the lights and run to bed.
As minutes go by
I slowly slip away,
Hours felt like seconds.
I wake up to the sudden whoosh feeling against my head
that dreadful yelling in and out at 7:02 in the morning
the sound of my dog scratching on the door after getting thrown into the kitchen.
In another perspective,
mother wakes up at 6:00 in the morning 3 hours after I feel asleep
she takes her shower
refills the dog’s water and food
and make her bed while crunching coffee beans in the kitchen
an hour and 2 minutes before I wake up
we are like two people going on two different trains heading to different locations
I go to school
She goes to work
but in the end
The two trains always come back to the same place at the end of the day.
English 9 - Period 4
7 November 2010
Brave, strong, helpful, respectful
A retired Taiwan pilot
He was the MVP
Of the Taiwan army
He then retired
From bombing .
He then found a job
as a texture designer.
Because he lived in a small valley,
Everybody knew him
He designed clothing for everybody
Then after his long hard fifteen year career
He became a rich man.
Where does he spend all that wealth?
He then came to America with my grandmother
and his three sons, which were all old enough to move out.
Sadly, all of his sons don't have enough money to buy property.
Then, my grandfather bought three houses.
He bought three houses.
He gave those three houses to his three sons.
When my mother was pregnant,
My grandfather sensed something,
Something great was going to be given
To this family.
Then I was born.
Then he thanked Buddha for me.
He has believed me since I was born,
I don't know what I would do without him.
I don't know what I would to do without him.
Without him, I would live a horrible life,
I don't know when I can let go
So I could live the same life.
My grandfather is a busy man.
He is a busy man.
Everyday he would go out to the garden
And water the garden.
This is my grandfather,
My Grandpa Chang.
As I walk home from school,
I call my mom for directions.
Through few responses,
99% of the time I walk home.
After each call I would think of my mom
Mom…very caring, sincere, cheerful, etc.
My mother never forgets the things I need to do
Even though I had forgot about them
I complain and I don’t want to do it
She always finds a way to change my mind
I don’t know why but I always give in
I guess that is the power of my mom
My mom is always there for me
She will be willing to support me
Even though times are tough
I would never forget the time
And effort she gave in for me
My mother is one in a million
She means so much to me
More than you will ever know
She picks me up when I’m down
And always encourages me to do my best
Everyday she works her hardest
Cleaning the house
Making us food
Getting us supplies
Washing our clothes
Taking care of the dog
Helping me with homework, sports
And much more
She wants the best for me
And that’s why she is so hard on me
Even when she is angry at me
She still loves me
She tells me to never give up
And to keep trying until you reach your goal
She is honest, caring, and passionate
And does not want but gives
All she wants is for my family
And I to be happy
When I do something extremely bad
She gets very angry
And gives me harsh punishments
But she does it
So that I learn from my mistakes
And avoid doing it again in the future
My mom is like no other
She does so much for me
And teaches me so much
From school work to sports
She always tries to help me achieve my goals
Your mom sounds really nice and I liked all the examples you had.
My father is a tree, tall with firm roots & incredible strength.
He is loving and always calm, any way the wind blows.
“A father is a man with pictures of his children in his wallet where his money used to be.”
As humorous as this saying is, it has an underlying tone of somber truth to it.
He fights day and night, to provide for me, for himself, for all of us.
He fights and fights and fights, struggling wickedly against the economy,
Just as a tree pushes hard against a storm,
Trying desperately to keep its roots.
I exaggerate of course,
We are not poor; better off than many people in other places,
Yet I feel a deep pain in my chest every time I ask him for more
Because that’s all I ever want is more, more, more.
And here he is, this compassionate giving tree,
Always gifting, rarely receiving.
But does his large, inviting grin ever leave his face?
Never, my dear friend; the answer is never.
Just as a tree is the gentle leader of a forest,
He is the gentle leader of our family, our house, our home,
Solving quarrels, creating peace, he is ever kind and slow to anger.
As I said, he is our provider,
Giving shelter, food, warmth, comfort,
Just as a tree does to those in need.
And just as a trees leaves shake when it laughs and plays with the wind,
My father and I laugh passionately,
Enjoying the little things in life.
This, we both feel, is completely necessary.
We are given a short life on earth,
Therefore we must enjoy the little things:
A baby’s first step,
A lucky penny on a street corner,
A fat red A+ on a test,
The sweet strums of an acoustic guitar,
The fresh scent of morning dew,
A mother’s warm embrace,
The rustling of a trees leaves,
A father’s selfless love.
My mother is half of a piano
Where she is the low notes
If u push the wrong buttons
You will hear an unpleasant sound
I on the other hand
Are the high notes
We are yet different and alike
You need both of us to make
The sounds of a piano
Our relationship is all about
She loves it
While I hate it
I played it
And so has she
I followed her footsteps
And finally I have made my own
I quit and stopped playing
I couldn’t stand the arguments
Over this instrument
Oh how I hated it
It was the same thing
Over and over again
Go play the piano
Redo that part
You’ve only played for 10 minutes
You're wasting my money
You're not improving
You're not even trying
You wasted my money on this piano
Do you see your cousins playing like this?
They work so much harder than you
I asked myself why am I doing this anyways?
And the only reason was
I was doing it for my mom
I never wanted to play the piano
I don’t even know how I got myself into it
But I played every week
Just for her
Not for me but for her
She does a lot for me too
And always says I don’t appreciate it
But I really do
I just don’t know how to say it
But sometimes I don’t think
She remembers what I do for her too
When the wrong buttons are pushed
And there is no stopping of it
This usually happens on a daily basis
But I’ve gotten used to it
And it is about the littlest things
But through all the rough times
She has always been there for me
I can always count on her
She’s got my back
I’ll always love her
I will follow her footsteps
To how she loves her mom
They have an amazing relationship
That can’t be described
The love they have for each other
Is what I wish to have with my mom
My mother is the boss.
She pushes me.
She works very hard to keep me being a good child.
As she always pushes me and keep me good.
That is because she cares about me.
She works ten hours and sometimes more in a day.
When she comes back she still organizes me.
I knowledge she is tired,
and annoy by my mistakes.
or at least tried to fix my mistakes.
I like my mom,
but then her way of things just seem unfair.
When I am wrong she yells at me,
when she is wrong she doesn’t get yell at.
She never wants to see me be bad,
but as a I get older she can’t control me.
Without her I wouldn’t be as good I am today
Thank you for caring mom.
My sister is not a simple person, she’s actually quiet complex
She yells at me and get mad at me, like typical sisters do.
But I know she only does it because she cares
She makes me happy, but sad whether she knows it or not.
I could tell when she’s disappointed in me by the faces she makes.
I can read her easily
But sometimes, just sometimes, she gives me mixed signals
My passion is band and the music we play
And she’s in the pep squad
We aren’t alike in many ways but we seem to click
Like how the color blue and orange go together so well
She’s like my personal sweater,
She’s always there for me whether it’s raining or shinning
Despite the messy flaws in between.
She loves me for who I am, and not just because she has to.
People say we aren’t alike in many ways but,
They say we do the same things and act the same way.
She’s fun to be around, even when we aren’t talking,
We just stare at each other and start cracking up.
Those are the moments I love.
The moments that I remember and that I cherish,
Those are the best moments with my sister.
One more anonymous author!
She isn’t the best cleaner
Or known for being on time
But she doesn’t mind.
She could care less about who
Is on the news or
What airhead is making a movie
She just cares about what is
she doesn’t shun me or ground me
on the spot if I get a bad grade
she just waits to hear my excuse.
She isn’t my best friend
But she isn’t my enemy either.
I can tell her all my secrets and the gossip
I hear daily, knowing what I say to her
Wont be repeated again.
She understands me when I say a band
Is great even if they scream nonsense into
She doesn’t care because she was once like me.
She lived to hear the next best rock song
Now she just watches shows about the men
She thought were irresistible on “Where Are
She has had countless dreams and emotions I have
Felt so far and yet, sometimes she doesn’t understand.
When we fight, she tells me how she can’t stand to be
mad at me, but I don’t care
because I will just walk away and scream words that
shouldn’t be said by a fourteen year-old girl.
Sometimes she annoys me with questions
About my life but I just tell her I don’t want to talk.
I feel if I tell her things that I want in my life, im afraid
She will reject it and forget I said anything.
To her she has other plans for me:
The college I go to, the job I have, and the
Kind of person I should marry.
Yet she reminds me to stay true to myself
And not hide behind a mask.
She amazes me and confuses me as well
My mother is immortal. Not like the vampire immortal
But after her death she will be remembered and won’t be
Forgotten to me.
Every day you woke up early
You work and work and work
When night comes you wouldn’t selfishly take a second for you own
When I was in my bed I can still hear you working
It seems like it is never ending for you
You carried me for ten months
You gave birth to me
Yet these fourteen years I have done nothing to repay you
It is sad to see those frown
You always complain
And I always ignore
Yes this is my mom
She looks weak on the outside
But she has a strong heart than anyone inside
She is not as shrewd as any other
But her love light up our family
And I am proud to be a son of her
All that she has given up
providing food and shelter
driving me everywhere
blah blah blah
but there is someone who has given up even more
someone who took care of me after I was born
fifteen years out of her enduring life dedicated to me
and even more years to come.
She is the one who bakes the flour into bread
steams the rice
sautees the shrimp
spices the beef
boils the soup
and stirs the porridge
She is the one who checks on me to see if my fever has gone down
She is the one who puts my dirty clothes into the washing machine
and hangs them on the porch
She is the one who makes this house a home.
She left the farmlands to start a family in the city
Then she left the family she worked so hard to create for me
half way across the planet
She also has two other grandkids
but she chose me.
All she wants is for me to have a good life
go to a good college
and become rich
and I will
and I'll do it for her
for the fifteen years she could've spent worry-free
for the gray hairs that took over
for the leg she injured while bathing me when I was little that still hurts today
and for the years to come
though I may already know more than her,
I will never be as wise as her,
a woman from the farmlands of china.
Her unconditional love and care never ceased to amaze me.
Maybe It’s Not Too Late
My father is an old, beaten up journal
Written in barely half way.
like years of his life are scribbled,
without much planning or tribulation.
Strange contemplation written all over
His worn down face.
This strange contemplation is not one of defeat though
It is, what I see, as the beginning of another page,
added to the collection,
of those that make up Ishak Bishara.
The end to the story is almost always the same,
He discovers something about someone.
He lives in a world of black and white
Much like my own world,
Much like a journal,
And he almost only gets upset when someone crosses that line.
He is confused and hurt by all the good people who do wrong in his life,
So maybe he is innocent,
Almost naïve in some way.
What an idea!
My strong, leather bound father having a weakness
Being less than perfect.
Yet to no avail, he remains as picture perfect
As an old leather bound book should.
As he sat, with this strange contemplation,
I told him about this old journal
Filled just half-way.
His harsh face softened into a beautiful smile
That innocence was awakened.
I knew these words would eventually be a part
Of that thrown together, piece magnificent elegance,
That most people would call his writing,
So now I write with overwhelming honor.
Because I’ve always wanted to be a part of my father’s beaten up journal.
My father is a passionate man.
He’s the smartest Dad I know.
He almost spent his forty years
Of life studying. He attended numerous
Numbers of colleges. From math to science
English to history, he knows many things
That most dads don’t. His passion
Towards studying is unstoppable.
He is a minister at a church.
He spends his time writing sermons.
When I sleep he wakes up
When I wake up he’s gone to his work.
He would gladly spend his sleeping
Time writing sermons and working his
Tasks at church. He enjoys his work
At church and he likes sacrificing
Himself for church. His passion
towards working Is unstoppable.
My dad also loves sports He goes
hiking or plays tennis on Monday
mornings. Then he goes swimming at
night. On Saturday he plays golf or plays
table tennis with me. When our guests
visit our house, he would spend time
playing sports with them. His passion
towards sports is unstoppable.
When I have question or don’t
understand something in any
of the subjects, he would
teach me in an easier way.
Also when I am stuck with
Something, he would find
A book on the subject I
Have hard time with, out
Nowhere and would start
Teaching it to me so I can
Understand. He knows so
Many facts and is knowledgeable,
Therefore he is a good teacher to me
And teaches me and tells me more facts
Than I need to know! His passion towards teaching
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