Skill in using language
Effectively and persuasively:
A RHETORIC.
The consequences of
A position of duty.
Our general agreement
Of essays, papers, our/my writing
Assignment. It is
This composition: seen unconventional.
The steady, stop
Sluggish speech
Make you state
This structure
So. Slowly.
Take the time to comprehend
These words, syllables, conversations
In which your grade will never
Give proof you are learning.
Taken back to Normal Schools,
I can prove knowledge gained.
The frustration of English
Gone askew.
Oh, we learned once upon a time
The meanings of nouns, verbs, adjectives;
But prepositional phrases seemed too
Complicated for pre-university graduates.
Attentive, in the front,
I felt the annoyance
Screaming from my professor.
Pursed lips, heavy breathing,
Screaming inside: She and
Me. Better stated
I. Found. My passion.
To teach. To learn why
Do you not know how
To speak English?
Back another two years.
Tick, tock, spits the clock.
Tap, scribble, scribble, erin
Oh, I dont know...fo-cus.
Poe uses a lot of assonance.
See, theres a lot in his poe-
M called Annabel Lee
At least I knew what a noun
Is.
But my eyes quickly dropped
To my notebook
Back to work.
[I Was Robbed Once]
[December 11, 2003]
The silver of half-stormy grey days.
The handle is of mutilated oak.
Your grip is as firm as my gaze;
Yet, you dont understand Im broke.
Demanding Jacksons, or else my life,
Hardly able to hold up under my knees,
As I feel the cool silver of his knife,
I try to scream, Oh, help me, please!
But my mouth, just too scared to listen,
My attacker beginning to become distressed,
Swiftly swings his knife as it glistens.
The cold, sharp pain makes my lungs compressed,
The crimson, hot, sticky blood drools my chest,
As does the one salted tear from my eye.
Before the darkness came, I hoped for the best;
As I clutch my body, my life, I die.
Lost in writing
Stories untrue.
Relieving pressures
That tighten around me; engulfing
All; everything.
High School students need to be
Pushed farther than ever.
In those four years,
best of our lives,
Have we still not understood
Grammar? English? Writing?
Whats the rhetoric for this?
In the passion for writing itself
New passions arise, desiring
To smear knowledge on thick
To these pre-university graduates.
A dream that I cannot awake from.
This engulfs me, too.
Year before, new adventures:
Writing: creatively.
A class in which I was free
Of poor grammar, rules, structure:
The usual; the works.
There were no boundaries within
Assignments.
I threw words I never spoke
Towards the elderly; both [of us being] wiser.
But I had this option and used
My opportunities [appropriately]
Writing the best:
Having the best:
Time of my life.
In a sense, all this passion for myself
Made a loss of my passion to pass on
The knowledge they needed; not I.
But, I suppose, true dreams do not die.
Perhaps I did awake, but I fell back
Into the same passion [thankfully]
So.
To prove Ive accomplished something.
Gained, learned anything.
Ive taken in too much the past year.
Accomplished goals I never made.
Received grades [I still think] I do not deserve.
But, I am no teacher [yet]
I do not have the requirements
Or abilities [by law] to state
My academic achievements.
Is that a rhetoric?
My degrees, experiences, and time
Auto-qualify me?
A chance my elders must take on me.
A chance so that I may
Never awake from my dreams.
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