45bd27a25f47394e.jpg .
Myname will be Stank.

When I was born my name was Dusan “STANK” Anthony Davis Jr.





name…………………


Today my name is Dusan.


Tomorrow my will be Davis.

Yesterday my name was Anthony.

Tonight my
Analysis


Basically I am me no one else. I’m only me. I can’t change it if I tried. I wouldn’t try if I could. Just because I’m me.




My name is Dusan Davis.
The son of Dusan & Toshiba Davis.
I have three siblings Delvin, Davion, and Dasani Davis.
I plan to be a computer engineer.
I plan to precede that at Alabama A&M.
And that’s my life.
So far……………………………………………………….











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The Shock of the year


Always sad year by year.
Needing help week by week.
They need help in this hot city.
Who can help, we need a breeze?
How about Drew Breese?
The New Orleans saint needed help, and they found it.

Here’s the shock.
They won the NFC Championship.
Just one game from the Super Bowl.
Hard game tough loss.
Strong or weak heart they still loss.
Everyone’s still proud of the Shock of the Year.





Analysis

Now this poem is basically a mystery. The Saints have a history of losing. Example every win follows six losses. New Orleans is a hot city. So I used a riddle as in Drew Breese settled both problems. The heat and the losing streak. They strived to make it to the game, before the Super Bowl. Even though they loss people were happy because of a change finally.




I could be……………..

I could be a start.

I could be an athlete.

I could be a technician.

I could be a doctor.

I could be pharmsist.

And a building designer.

But I choose to be a computer engineer.

Why because that’s what I desire.

45bd27a25f47394e.jpg
Unfolding Bud
One is amazed
BY a water-lily bud
Unfolding
With each passing Day,
Taking on a richer color
And new dimensions.


One is not amazed
At a first glance,
By a poem
Which is a tight-closed
As a tiny bud.

Yet one is surprised
To see the poem
Gradually unfolding,
Revealing its rich inner self,
As one reads it
Again
And over again.

Naoshi Koriyama




Analysis


Basically this poem is a descriptive poem.
It desribes the liily infolding. It also describes the sight of it.
As the lily unfolds the colors are changing . When its done you get to see the bud and thats the middle.






I refuse to be a black statistic



I refuse to be a black statistic.
Bumming on every street.
Not knowing where my next meal is coming from.
But when its time to eat theres no place to eat.
I refuse to be a black statistic.

I refuse to be a black statistic.
getting below average on the leap test.
because you don't know where you come from.
Focus on now and forget the rest.
I refuse to be a black statistic.

I wont be a black statistic.
Why?
Because I have enough since to write this poem.
I wont be a black statistic.






My name…..


Today my name is Dusan.

Tomorrow my name will be Davis.

At home my name is Stank.

In La 63 my name is Davis.

When I entered the world my name was

Dusan Anthony Davis Jr.




My name…. (Analysis)


Basically I am me no one else only me. I can’t change it if I tried. I wouldn’t try if I could. Just because I’m me.




My life……………………..

My name is Dusan Davis.

The son of Dusan and Toshiba Davis.

I have three siblings Delvin, Davion, and Dasani Davis.

I plan to attend Alabama A& M.

There I want to achieve my for to be a computer engineer.
And that’s my life so far…………………………..




















The shock of the South



Always sad year by year.
Needing help week by week.
Who can help its hot we need a breeze.
How about Drew Breese.
He helped, but not enough.

Here’s the shock.
They win the NFC Championship.
Just one game from the Super Bowl.
Hard game, but they loss.
Strong or weak they still loss.
Everyone still proud of the shock.



The shock of the year (analysis)



Now this poem is basically a mystery. The saints have a history of losing. One win equals six losses. New Orleans is a hot city. And the Saints need help. So Drew Breese came as both. They made it to the game before the Super Bowl and loss strong game.



















I could be…………………..


I could be a star.

I could be a athlete.

I could be a technician.

I could be a doctor.

I could be a Pharmacist.

I could be a building designer.


But I choose to be a computer engineer.



I could be (analysis)


This poem is really self explanatory. Be who you want to be. Don’t let anyone tell you who you’re going to be. Follow your heart for where you feel you need to be.

































I Refuse to be a Black Statistic


I refuse to be a black statistic.
Bumming on ever street.
Not knowing where my next meal is coming from.
But when its time to eat there is no place to eat.
I refuse to be a black statistic.

I refuse to be a black statistic/
Getting below average on the LEAP Test.
Just because you don’t know where you come from.
That’s not your fault.
Focus on now and forge the rest.
I refuse to be a black statistic.


I won’t be a black statistic.
Why?
I had enough since to write this poem.
So that means I can achieve them all.
I won’t be a black statistic.



I refuse to be a black statistic (analysis)



This here is a life time poem. If you can’t achieve this you’re stuck.
Everyday someone is stuck on the street. People don’t realize they messed up until, they have messed up. Messing up in school all that catches up with you. DO right so you can be who and what you want to be.














How to eat a poem?
BY: Eve Merriam


Don’t be polite.
Bite in.
Pick up your fingers and lick the juice that may come down your chin.
It is ready an ripe now, whenever
you are
or plate or napkin or table cloth

For there is no core
Or stem
Or rind
Or pit
Or seed
Or skin
To throw away.



How to eat a poem (analysis)


Basically this is it. When you’re writing don’t you hold back on anything? Get a pen and let your thoughts flow. Write any and everything that comes to mind. There is no middle. No end or extra stems just let it flow.

















See You Next Year (for Donna Leombruno)

Thanksgiving is in the tears
that burst like ripe grapes.

Proclaiming, see you next year,
we wave, begin to panic.

With these tears, the further we go
the tighter we are entwined.

We hold onto each others image,
hold each other way-deep

as the bus pulls us apart,
stretching our gratitude for miles.

-Judith Pordon



See you next year (analysis)

See you next year is a good bye poem. A lot of people come and go. But not all come back. IN this poem someone is leaving, and planning to come back. The tears make them stronger in their trials. As the person leaves the love for each other gets bigger.













Lost

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you,
If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

David Wagoner




Lost ( Analysis)

This is a nature poem. It says everything around you is present. And trust none.
Signs is all around pay attention and you’ll see. Everything revolves around you rather you know it or not. Nothing will stay the same get it while it last.





















AT THE END

He was so old his bones seemed to swim in his skin.
And when I took his hand to feel his pulse
I felt myself drawn in. It was as faint
as the steps of a child
padding across the floor in slippers,
and yet he was smiling.
I could almost hear a river
running beneath his breath.
The water clear and cold and deep.
He was ready and willing to wade on in.

Ed Meek




This is someone’s last word into a poem. Basically he is dieing he feels his pulse its low. He starts to stutter and the signs of death. There begins to have no spit he dies.