January's End

No longer a sky of jovial baby blue -

Darkened now

as the depths of the sea.

No longer whispers of spring -

winds scream in ferocity

angry words at the trees.

No longer budding flowers

a sun shining life and warmth

into every hibernating soul.

No- now the sky bleeds

blacker and greyer.

A raindrop,

thick and full,

splatters across the concrete path.

Then another -

like kamikazes of the clouds -

attack the pavement

one by one

side by side

hard and swift as the peregrine hawk

diving

for its prey.

Thousands now, millions,

bam bam bam

hitting the grass, the trees, the sidewalks,

with unparalleled fury.

No mercy,

Not for anything or anyone who

DARES

brave the cold angered wet.

Bells are ringing  - 10 to 1.

Students sitting,

huddled in shelter

watching with blatant sorrow

as their path to class becomes

a thick obstacle course with little

hope -

Only  a full-on soaking.

A spare few open umbrellas,

thin poles arcing wide and glorious.

The envious mutter under their breath.

Students eye the puddles,

the never-ending seas,

think of wet sticky socks and paper-thin shoes

clinging to ankles

all night.

Hoods dawned,

backpacks zipped,

determination burrowed into forehead wrinkles

brave intrepids venture to the door.

A final look,

farewell and good luck,

then they embark,

race through the torrent,

the angry sky plays dodgeball,

strikes them down

faster than a machinegun

reaches its cold all the way to their shivering bones.

Descriptive Paragraph

The sky is no longer a jovial baby blue. It no longer whispers of spring time and budding flowers and a sun whose only goal is to shine its life and warmth into every hibernating soul. The sky has darkened; its shade more like the color of the depths of the sea, and as the winds pick up in their ferocity, whispering angry words to the trees, the sky continues to bleed out blacker and greyer, bringing on early night. A raindrop, thick and full, splatters across the concrete path. Then another, right behind it, like kamikazes of the clouds they attack the pavement one by one, side by side, hard and swift as the peregrine hawk diving for its prey. There are thousands now, millions, bam bam bam, hitting the grass, the trees, the sidewalks with an unparalleled fury. No mercy, not for anything or anyone who dares to brave the cold and the wet. It is a torrent now, and the bells are ringing  - 10 to 1. Students sitting, huddled in the safe shelter of a community building, watch with blatant sorrow as their path to class becomes a thick obstacle course with little hope for any result better than a full-on soaking. The spare few who have umbrellas open them, the thin poles arcing wide and glorious, and the envious mutter under their breath. Those with sneakers, toms and ballet flats eye the puddles and the never-ending seas they are about to trudge through, thinking of wet sticky socks and paper-thin shoes clinging to their ankles for the rest of the night. Hoods are dawned, backpacks zipped, and determination burrowed into the forehead wrinkles on all the brave intrepids who dare to venture to the door. With a look at one another, a farewell and a good luck tucked away in a final nod, they embark, racing through the torrent, the angry sky playing dodgeball with each new target, striking them down faster than a machinegun and reaching its cold all the way to their shivering bones.

250s words or less

To begin writing my second task poems, I first read the paragraphs multiple times to try and find some meaning within the words, a point that the paragraph was centered around. I then used this to shape my poems - I kept whatever I felt like made the main theme of the poem thrive. In my 2nd task poem for the 2nd paragraph, I wanted to be sure to keep the heavy description and overwhelming nature of the work that Charlie and his family does. This intensity of image is what my poem focuses on, in order to make the endpoint stronger, as the importance of the 75 dollars he receives is illuminated by the family’s hard work. Also, I kept in the part about the supermarket and the pickers because I thought the kindness of a stranger who easily could have kept the money for himself is also a main part of the piece, as it too shows the how fortunate it was to receive the money. In my first second-task poem, I centered the poem around the rumors of the witch. It is her mystery and her power that I feel like is most important, so anything that alluded to that point I kept in there. I also ended it with the aspect of mystery, as to this day still no one has found the gold. I broke up stanzas wherever I felt like a new idea was being introduced, like points in an essay.

4 Poems

1.

The Pine Barrens once

had their own particular witch.

Pineys put salt over their doors

to discourage visits

from the Witch of the Pines,

Peggy Clevenger. It

was known she could turn

into a rabbit,

for a rabbit jumped through

the window and there -

in the same instant,

stood Peg Cleven-ger.

On another occasion,

a man, kill a lizard by

crushing with rock.

Disappear Peg-gy

‘terial-ized, smacked

the man. Clev-enger

lived in Pasadena,

5 east of Mt. Miser

-y. It was said that she had

a stocking full of old.

Her remains were found but

no trace of the gold.

2.

The Pine Barrens

once

had their own particular witch.

the Witch of the Pines,

Peggy Clevenger.

It was known

she could turn herself into a rabbit,

a dog was once seen chasing a rabbit and the rabbit jumped

through the window of a house and there

- in the same instant, in the window –

stood Peggy Clevenger.

On another occasion,

a man saw a lizard and tried to kill it by crushing it. When

the rock hit the lizard, the lizard

disappeared and Peggy Clevenger materialized on the spot and

smacked the man in the face.

It was said

she had a stocking full of gold.

Her remains were found

one morning

in the smoking ruins of her cabin, but

there was no trace of

 the gold.

3.

We had come to a clearing where thous

-ands of blue-berry bushes grew. a low

building with open win-dows

on all sides. In front of it was a school

bus marked “Labor Transport.”

The driver stood be-

side his bus. A tall

man. He wore gree

-n trousers and a T-shirt. The end

had come. Pickers were swarming

around a pump - old women, middle-aged men

A line was waiting

Inside the packing house, berries

were rolling up a belt. eventually

into pint boxes. Charlie’s sister

was packing the boxes. Charlie

-’s daughter

-in-law was putting

cellophane.

 Jim was sup’vising

 the operation. Charlie told me

with disgust some chains kno-

ck off mounds, three extra berries

per twelve-box tray. At one win-dow,

turning in tickets. They were

given cash in return. One picker,

in his sixties, tapped Charlie

showed him tickets held together

“I found these,” the

man said. “The-y

must have fallen. Tickets

are worth sevent-y.”

4.

In the center of it was the packing house –

a small, low building

open and screenless windows.

 “Farm Labor Transport.”

The driver - tall and amiable,

bare feet, green trousers a T-shirt.

The end of the working day.

Pickers swarming around a pump

- old women, middle-aged men, a young girl.

to use an outhouse.

Inside the packing house,

Berries

half an ounce thick

rolling up a conveyor belt

into pint boxes.

Charlie’s sister

packing boxes.

Charlie’s daughter-in-law

cellophane over them.

Charlie’s son Jim

supervising.

Charlie picked up a pint box

berries mounded high,

“Some supermarket chains knock off these mounds

and put them in new boxes,

three of four extra berries pints per twelve-box tray.”

At one window,

pickers turning in tickets,

various colors,

cash in return.

One picker,

at least in his sixties,

tapped Charlie -

a thick packet of tickets

held together with

rubber band.

“I found these,

They must have fallen.

Your son’s pocket.”

Charlie said - “Worth

seventy-five dollars.”