Monday

"Twenty Bucks" by Darren Sardelli

When I asked dad for twenty bucks,
he said, “Lets make a deal.
I’ll give you money only if
you eat a healthy meal.”
I found him sitting on the couch
before I went to bed.
I looked into his tired eyes
and this is what I said:
“I finished all my vegetables.
The carrots tasted great!
I ate the piece of celery
that mom put on my plate.
The eggplant was delicious
and the string beans were divine.
The peppers were fantastic
and the broccoli was fine.
The giant baked potato
was the highlight of my night.
The juicy red tomato
filled my belly with delight.”
My dad said he was proud of me
and handed me the cash.
I hope he doesn't find out
all this food is in the trash!
I picked this poem because it reminds me of my childhood. I hated eating the vegetables my mom cooked and I'd do everything and anything to get out of eating them. My dad never promised me money, but he did promise me a new toy,depending on what I was into at that time. I remember him promising me a new Barbie camper (with a mini kitchen and closet built-in!), new pokemon cards, and new Beanie Babies. And this actually worked! I used to eat all my food at dinner, but I remember one night when I just didn't feel like eating it, so I slipped what I didn't like into the garbage when no one was looking. Yeah, I was a rebel.
Every now and then, it's nice to read a poem like this that we can relate to. And it's a nice change from the usual verbose and obtuse poetry we have to deal with at school. 

Sunday

"Derelict" by Young E. Allison (Fifteen Men on a Dead Man's Chest)

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
The mate was fixed by the bosun's pike
The bosun brained with a marlinspike
And cookey's throat was marked belike
It had been gripped by fingers ten;
And there they lay, all good dead men
Like break o'day in a boozing ken.
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of the whole ship's list
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Dead and be damned and the rest gone whist!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
The skipper lay with his nob in gore
Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore
And the scullion he was stabbed times four
And there they lay, and the soggy skies
Dripped down in up-staring eyes
In murk sunset and foul sunrise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of 'em stiff and stark
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Ten of the crew had the murder mark!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Twas a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead
Or a yawing hole in a battered head
And the scuppers' glut with a rotting red
And there they lay, aye, damn my eyes
Looking up at paradise
All souls bound just contrariwise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of 'em good and true
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Ev'ry man jack could ha' sailed with Old Pew,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
There was chest on chest of Spanish gold
With a ton of plate in the middle hold
And the cabins riot of stuff untold,
And they lay there that took the plum
With sightless glare and their lips struck dumb
While we shared all by the rule of thumb,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!

More was seen through a sternlight screen...
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Chartings undoubt where a woman had been
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
'Twas a flimsy shift on a bunker cot
With a dirk slit sheer through the bosom spot
And the lace stiff dry in a purplish blot
Oh was she wench or some shudderin' maid
That dared the knife and took the blade
By God! she had stuff for a plucky jade
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
We wrapped 'em all in a mains'l tight
With twice ten turns of a hawser's bight
And we heaved 'em over and out of sight,
With a Yo-Heave-Ho! and a fare-you-well
And a sudden plunge in the sullen swell
Ten fathoms deep on the road to hell,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!

This is a popular song used in all kinds of movies and books about pirates. What a lot of people don’t know is that it was a poem. Robert Louis Stevenson wrote the four popular lyrics for a song in the play, Treasure Island. Then, Young E. Allison expanded on them and wrote this poem. The only reason I know this is because Mrs. Winters was talking about it during Mythology my sophomore year and for some odd reason it stuck with me. Compared to what I was expecting from a pirate poem, "Derelict" is really composed because of the chronological order and clever little rhymes. At first this poem can seem like a tough read, but when you read between the lines and figure out what Allison is saying, you can see that it's a pretty good poem. I spent a while reading through and analyzing it, and it's definitely one of my new favorite poems. So yo ho ho.

"Still I Rise" by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
This poem is a classic “you can’t knock me down” poem, but because of the author Maya Angelou, and her life story, it means so much more than just that.  Not many people have read Angelou’s biographies or know anything about her at all. To me, she is one of the strongest women I have ever read about.  The poem is about her struggles growing up as a black child and being discriminated against, but it also has to do with her own life and her struggles with herself. Her parents divorced and she was abused by her mother’s boyfriend when she was barely ten. Although her uncles killed that guy, she was still bruised mentally and she became a mute for a few years after. She has literally done everything, from waiting tables, to owning a brothel, and to even living in Egypt. So when you can understand how much she has done and been through, you can read this poem in a whole new light. If someone like Maya Angelou can still rise after everything and smile at her haters, then anyone can.  

"Where the Sidewalk Ends" by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

When I was little I got Shel Silverstein’s book as a gift and my favorite poem in it was "Where the Sidewalk Ends". I think it was mainly my favorite because that’s what the book was called, but I remember liking the poem a lot too.
I like the rhyme-scheme and the way he words his sentences. The sidewalk can be seen as a path that can get someone through a rough time in their life. To me, this poem seems like it was written from a child’s point-of-view. He talks about leaving a place filled with pollution, “where the smoke blows black” and where there are “dark street winds” to where the grass is soft and the sun shines much brighter. Silverstein makes everything sound better than it really is and emphasizes that we think too much and then as a result, complicate things. If we could all imagine the good or positive side of things, like the place at the end of the sidewalk (like children do), then everything would be better.

Saturday

oh heyy JJ

Tom Tucker- A local family is forced out of their home by ghosts. Who they gonna call?
Diane Simmons-Ghostbusters, Tom.
Tom Tucker-No Diane. Their insurance company. That's just stupid what you said.