Attentive Resistance

ENGL210 Introduction to Creative Writing

First Poem (due Sunday 02/04 by 6pm)

For Monday, write a 6 – line poem in which each line compares an object or action to something it resembles (alike). Think of a theme or just see where your imagination goes. Simile (X is like Y) or metaphor (Z is Q) are some poetic devices you might use, but you’re welcome to use any other approaches to show or suggest comparison.

Post by Sunday at 6pm so we all have a chance to read each other’s work before class.

Here’s an example of a response to this prompt:

A small earthquake is more of a sneeze

when people are dutiful bugs, half-willfully,

an ant or bee, they’re more like an anthem

than a song is to a breeze.

Thankfully, webs of time invite a spider’s neglect

when the buildings shake like trees.

16 thoughts on “First Poem (due Sunday 02/04 by 6pm)

  1. A tree is like a large sprout,
    on the earths surface like a small garden,
    that sits in the front yard like the desk of a full-time worker,
    whose job is like a marathon,
    which he trained for like the discipline of a monk,
    who is silent like the night.

    1. A tree is grown from a large sprout,
      on the earths surface which holds small gardens,
      that sit in people’s front yard like the desk of an office worker,
      whose job may seem like a marathon,
      which he has trained for with discipline like a monk,
      who is silent as the night.

  2. The mountains are a huge skyscraper
    on a cold winter morning
    The eagle sits like a hunter poised for the kill
    She flies alone
    Her chicks cry like hungry babies
    She is a determined mother

  3. A smile is a greeting, hello to a friend,
    but not to a primate, for they will bite.
    Braces are like prison,
    freedom is restricted.
    Brushing is like a clean slate,
    scraped of all imperfections.

    -Samantha Aversano

  4. Poetry is connection.
    As Relief is your mother’s hug after a long, exhausting day,
    As Inspiration is looking at a colorful sunset while listening to your favorite song,
    As Love is the explosion in your chest and throat when you kiss your beloved,
    As Serenity is laying on the grass on a starry night, appreciating another day of life.
    Daily experiences, and its connections with feelings is Poetry.
    -Elizabeth Lozano

  5. Your love is like a cotton candy machine
    you spin me, like a carousel in the middle of my dream.
    The place where popcorn pops like a gun,
    and kids move swift like a bunny for fun.
    Where movie time becomes unity,
    a unity as close as you and me.
    -Alisha Matthews

  6. Birds chirping on a Sunday morning like singing a lullaby
    is as blissful as the sunset’s glow through the window like a laser beam
    The touch of sand in between your toes seem as silky as satin
    And the water from the waterfall rushes down on you like a storm
    Nature is awake just as a baby awakens from a nap crying
    The storm is frightening but the calm after the storm is the most sensational and inspiring song ever heard.

  7. A summer day’s sun is your smile
    Warm and bright like the rose in my cheeks
    When your eyes are a secret, that only I can hear
    When your arms are a blanket, I wrap into after a long day
    And your breath on my cheek, whispering like the wind
    Says what our voices are too afraid to say

    – Jessica Martinez

  8. Patience is peace for the soul
    It is the kindest and purest form of love
    Life is not set in stone
    Lessons all of kinds have to be learned
    Bridges have to be crossed and at times burned
    A fire has to ignite
    Mountains have to be moved in order to move forward
    One must trip over pebbles in order to gain the strength to climb up a hill
    Only patience can keep you still
    Patience is the only peace for the soul

  9. We’re tossed from hand to waiting hand like a relay baton,
    Tiredly feeling for grip holding firm as a stevedore-hefted burden,
    On the sliver-chanced wager like a ball searching the roulette wheel to catch one green-felted slot.
    Then we’ll send ourselves quiet lies on a whisper bed like the briefest puff of breath insisting
    That we’re not summed and rounded-up like six point five nine nine nine nine nine nine nine

  10. In the atrium of the natural heart storms of discord build
    Streams of charged ions, buzzing worn nerves
    Sparks of chaos spring forth like lightning
    Two worlds revert to the hectic laws of Nix
    How silly it is humans praise the complexities of the storm and life
    Yet an electric gradient within leaves the greatest conventions in strife

  11. Juliette Aldana’s submission

    The mind is like a prison
    It’s endless limitations slowly bind like a snake catching it’s prey.
    Freedom is like a bird, something that can be observed from afar but always fly away when we get too close.
    Maybe humanity is a disease, one that infects and only desires.
    Maybe knowledge is ignorance.
    Maybe the truth are lies and the lies are truth.
    Maybe, just maybe we make our own minds our prisons and we’re the warden.

  12. Tick , Tock goes the clock.
    I look back at my homework, feel as if I’m being being mocked.
    Times moves forward and still on the same thing.
    Forgot procrastination and I are committed with a wedding ring.
    It’s a cycle that never ends,
    But like always I leave it for the weekends.

  13. her face was once like glowing amber,
    no longer held the light within.
    alabaster roughened where
    crevices formed as she smiled
    as if engraved by years
    of tears that flowed through like rivers
    that now runs dry

  14. comfort in the Dark (first poem)
    by Reign

    Those words a tattoo against my soul
    They echo like knives
    The past cuts deeper than shards of glass
    I stare down into the sea of my dark thoughts
    The darkness my only sanctuary
    I flee from the hunting, unaffectionate sunlight

  15. Third Point of View
    (First Poem)

    Being Loving and caring
    came with the position.
    She is the one
    who follows the traditions.

    Though she is the
    second in line.
    To be the first is
    her goal in mind.

    Young as the budding
    flower in Spring.
    Who thinks she has
    figured out everything.

    Somewhere between two and four,
    who all, she adores.

    – Mursal Sediqi

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