Christian+Gelbolingo

"Poetry is the doorway to your soul." - Floria

__ **Ode to Music - Christian Gelbolingo** __

Your voice, your voice so mellifluous, I'm in a utopia when you speak. You are the sharp wind in the winter months, giving me rosy red cheeks. You turn my personality from dull and lifeless to lively and effervescent. You have the power of calming me, soothing me, very emollient.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOOM! The beats change, my heart's beating like a drum. You send chills down my spine, this time leaving me wordless, "um..." What is this I hear? Punk rock?! Metal?! It's hurting my ear, "ouch!" Can we go back to soft, smooth, music. I don't like this very much.

Sometimes you make me feel disoriented, like a mouse in a labyrinth. But other times you leave me with a smile on my face, feeling very cheerful and blithe. Music, this is my ode to you, you are everything to me you see. Don't you know you know you make me free from anxiety feeling so care free?

__ **Sonnet about writing a sonnet - Christian Gelbolingo** __

Write a sonnet, you say? Sure I’ll do it Do it later im extremely tired This is some hard shit I’ll have to admit fires

Six hours passed, don’t know what to write about Haven’t been productive slept in all day Keep in track don’t want to be a burnout Three in the morning listening to fray

Six word written down, fiending for a cig I stayed up at two thirty to do this Hairs about to fall out, I need a wig I'm almost done I gave a sigh of bliss

__ **Raised by... - Christian Gelbolingo** __

I was raised by The fashion obsessed Caramel Macchiato Grandpa sweater wearing “I liked them before they were cool.” Type of people.

The four lokos hangovers Care free livin’ Out all night “Smoke ‘til my eyes are uneven” Type of people.

The crispy tan skin Maximum hold hairspray Gossip Girl watching. “She’s fabulous, but she’s evil.” Type of people.

The peaceful and innocent Pure as a driven snow Always smiling. “Wanna be friends?” Type of people.

__** A poem of your choice - **__ __Hope is the thing with feathers__

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.

__**Statement about my poetry**__

The poems I write about are mostly inspired by my life. My teenage years are when most of the exciting, and miserable things happen and I find inspiration in that. The techniques I mostly use are rhyming lines, imagery, and of course, the basic figurative language (metaphors, similes, etc). Rhyming, to me, is sort of a cop out to write poems but I feel like it’s easier for me and I could get my ideas out more. Imagery is another technique I like to use. I like using imagery because it helps the reader understand what the poem is about using mental images when they read a poem.


 * Emily Dickinson - www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/155**


 * __Hope is the thing with feathers__**

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.

Analysis - Emily Dickinson’s use of imagery and visual description helps the readers build a mental image of hope as a bird. On the first stanza, the author describes hope as a bird. It says, “Hope is the thing with feathers/ That perches in the soul,/ And sings the tune without the words,/ And never stops at all.” It is also describes as singing with out words and without pause meaning that there is always hope. On the second stanza, Dickinson, says that the song of the bird/hope is the sweetest in the gale. “And sweetest in the gale is heard;” Also, she says that only a storm could disturb the composure of the bird that has given hope to everyone. “Abash the little bird/ That kept so many warm.” On the third stanza, she says that the song of the bird is heard in the “chillest land” and “on the strangest sea;” but it had never ever asked for a crumb from her, “Yet, never, in extremity,/ It asked a crumb of me.”

__**Knows how to forget!**__

Knows how to forget! But could It teach it? Easiest of Arts, they say When one learn how

Dull Hearts have died In the Acquisition Sacrificed for Science Is common, though, now —

I went to School But was not wiser Globe did not teach it Nor Logarithm Show

"How to forget"! Say — some — Philosopher! Ah, to be erudite Enough to know!

Is it in a Book? So, I could buy it — Is it like a Planet? Telescopes would know —

If it be invention It must have a Patent. Rabbi of the Wise Book Don't you know?

Analysis - Both tone and punctuation play a big role on how the readers understand the idea, which the author is trying to convey. In the poem, the author, Emily Dickinson, uses a curious tone as she asks a lot of questions in the poem. The first stanza of the poem begins with the sense of curiosity and playfulness. Reading this stanza makes it seem like as if a naïve child was asking these questions. On the first and second line of the stanza, Dickinson says, “Knows how to forget!/But could It teach it?” making reference to how to forget something. She is asking it in a way that makes it seem like she is playful and lively. On the third and fourth line, she says that it is “Easiest of Arts” when one learns how to forget.

// Knows how to forget! // // But could It teach it? // // Easiest of Arts, they say // // When one learn how //

The same tone goes with the fifth stanza. On the first and third line, she is asking, “Is it in a Book?/Is it like a Planet?” Both book and planet emphasized shows that Dickinson is giving special importance to the objects. She is asking if the act of forgetting something can be learned or bought, which it cannot be.

__**I felt a Funeral, in my Brain**__

I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading – treading – till it seemed That Sense was breaking through –

And when they all were seated, A Service, like a Drum – Kept beating – beating – till I thought My Mind was going numb –

And then I heard them lift a Box And creak across my Soul With those same Boots of Lead, again, Then Space – began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell, And Being, but an Ear, And I, and Silence, some strange Race Wrecked, solitary, here –

And then a Plank in Reason, broke, And I dropped down, and down – And hit a World, at every plunge, And Finished knowing – then –

Analysis - In the poem, I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, by Emily Dickinson is an allegory of where her mind had ended. The first line of the poem, "I felt a Funeral, in my Brain," is a metaphor for the death of her mind. The next few lines, "And Mourners to and fro/ Kept treading – treading – till it seemed/ That Sense was breaking through –" states that the reader is mourning the loss of her mind. The mourners are a metaphor to show her pain. Their treading, which is repeated twice, indicates a pressure that is pushing her down. As the poem goes on, Dickinson, illustrates a series of events that happens in a funeral, "And when they all were seated,/ A Service, like a Drum –/ Kept beating – beating – till I thought/ My Mind was going numb –" She was NOT in a funeral but rather giving the details of it. She uses a simile comparing a service to the beat of a drum. The beating, which is also repeated twice puts more pressure on her. Her mind becomes progressively worse when she says, "My mind was going numb-" On stanzas 3 and 4, it is evident that her loss is becoming worse as she sees herself as, "Wrecked, solitary, here –" on the last line of stanza 4.