First Quarter Poetry Journal Reflection

Mr. Snail

A snail is climbing up the window. Inch by inch, it reaches the top of where my window ends, leaving the grotesque slime behind in a streak. I'll call him Mr. Snail. Momma will be mad if Mr. Snail leaves a stain on her window. Rain is coming down hard, soaking the ground. Momma will be bad if I track in mud. The snail awkwardly shifts, and I see it, almost in slow motion, lose its hold, and fall some ten feet below my window, to its demise.

The rain. The rain killed it. Momma will be mad if she knows I killed a snail. I'm not sure how, but I did. I always do things that makes Momma mad.Why rain? Why did you kill my new friend, Mr. Snail? I bet God's mad, like Momma, so he's crying. That's what she said the last time it rained, and I had been goofing off,  horseplay she called it, and had knocked over her favorite blue vase. That vase had been there for all of my few years. That vase had held a bouquet of fake flowers. (I asked her why they weren't dead, and she said that God preserved them because he wanted her marriage to last. It didn't, that's what she told me. They feel like plastic). That vase had shown what Momma did before I came, and I guess she liked those days. She told me that God was crying because I broke that blue vase that was there forever, held her wedding flowers, and her favorite thing in the world. What did I do this time to make God cry? Why did Mr. Snail leave me?

Remember? The light?
       
        the mountain                                glistening down on earth
walking up                                  thinking of her

             a room                                         whisper
     light up                                          giggle
she can                                        laugh
 

               at school                                    nor there
she's at the pool                           neither here


            everywhere                                   in the forest
but in fact                                    where bears play

                in the stream                        and in the rain
where fish sway                          in the fountain
           
            to stay
        is here                                               a monstrous fright,
and she.                                       alas, in the night

                    you say?                               because it's finally day.
scared of the dark                        not for long,



I chose this first response because I liked the character that I had started to develop, but the story needed a little work. I tried to further develop the plot and events without changing the character's personality. I tried to portray this character as a young child, wondering about life and why his mother is the way she is. I decided to include the second poem because I loved the structure, in which I based off of the poetry response that was provided. In this poem, you read the line the is furthest the the left first, then the line that is offset to the right, but is above it. This is iconic because of the subject, which is light. It shows that light moves, and in the poem I reference different things that also support light's movement. I enjoyed writing both of these pieces, and enjoy being given the class time to write about whatever I want, whether it be a poem mimicking the structure, o using a line from the poem.