Jarred+Luckey

“Poetry is a universal language…” _ William Hazlitt “Poetry is a doorway to the soul.” _ Florida

Ode Philadelphia

City life Could be a pretty life Or it could be pretty crazy From the grown men on the corner selling because during there childhood they were lazy Or those kids who all want to make it like Jay-z who are beginning to act like there fathers Shady This city can be hectic But as I reflect on it This city has been my friend Helped me become me This city can bring the worst out of you But I know many who have been shaped into real men From the slowed pace of North side To the lively part of south west Or all the parties in south And the center of this city which is very busy My home to some seems to stay the same But it is rapidly changing Rearranging As time goes on.

Sonnet

Hey keep your head up be strong little one You will have many trials to be said he As long as you keep your eyes on the son Have fun, be wise, do things mom likes said she You know how our parents can be, so strict Pretty soon they will get over that, please They need to or else they are out their wits A bit, a bit, its cool they just ate cheese Now relax, relax everything’s good now

Raised By I was raised by  Two strong willed beings. Who did everything for me with experiences I can't imagine. "Don't take things for granted." Kind of Folks.

That never can be late Can't be on CP time always have a routine or a plan in mind Its that military in him "Push yourself, keep Going!" Type of men

That believe in God Born again believer "Follow him and your days shall be easier." Don't loose faith "Trust me you need him." Type of people

Those I won't always be here Always be aware of your surroundings Time to grow up. "Don't you dare try to show me up" Type of Family

I Was Raised By Mr. and Mrs. Luckey and their families.

A Young Mind

I think I lost the key to the door that lets you into my emotional room Oh wait I locked that key up in my own vault You know the one that I Thought I buried deep in my mind So that I can unwind Sometimes when, Caught Yes in a bind I unbury the chamber deep within It Hurts cause its like I’m scratching underneath my skin You know the part where emotions and physical pain becomes one Like when u get that feeling, when you have lost your loved one Yeah I lost many loved ones But I’ve never loved one like her See she was different From her oh so beautiful ways I would love just, holding her, and talking to her about her day To her weird ways, habits Man I wish we still had it Love that is  Man I wish I didn't have it  You know that habit Where you have it Then you screw up and its more like you’ve had it  But man she’s had it  She’s done She says I have childish ways And she thought they would go away But day by day by day A new kid like thing, I would show to her, yes I would display I guess I need to grow up But until then ill be playing under the sun

My inspiration for writing is being bored. When I’m at home doing nothing, I tend to write a lot. It also is a way for me to express my self. I don’t talk to many people about how I feel I just jot it down. When I usually write, I use a lot of internal rhyming. I also do a lot of end rhyme. I don’t usually do a rhyme scheme.

letter to Brooks by Major Jackson 1. When you have forgotten (to bring into Play that fragrant morsel of rhetoric,  Crisp as autumnal air), when you Have forgotten, say, sun-lit corners, brick Full of skyline, rowhomes, smokestacks, Billboards, littered rooftops & wondered What bread wrappers reflect of our hunger,

2. When you have forgotten wide-brimmed hats, Sunday back-seat leather rides & church, The doorlock like a silver cane, the broad backs Swaying or the great moan deep churning, & the shimmer flick of flat sticks, the lurch Forward, skip, hands up Ailey-esque drop, When you have forgotten the meaningful bop,

3. Hustlers and their care-what-may, blasé Ballet and flight, when you have forgotten Scruffy yards, miniature escapes, the way Laundry lines strung up sag like shortened Smiles, when you have forgotten the Fish Man Barking his catch in inches up the street "I've got porgies. I've got trout. Feeesh

4. Man," or his scoop and chain scale, His belief in shad and amberjack; when You have forgotten Ajax and tin pails, Blue crystals frothing on marble front  Steps Saturday mornings, or the garden Of old men playing checkers, the curbs White-washed like two lines out to the burbs,

5. Or the hopscotch squares painted new In the street, the pitter-patter of feet Landing on rhymes. "How do you Like the weather, girls? All in together girls,  January, February, March, April... " The jump ropes' portentous looming, Their great, aching love blooming.

6. When you have forgotten packs of grape Flavored Now & Laters, the squares Of sugar flattening on the tongue, the elation You felt reaching into the corner-store jar, Grasping a handful of Blow Pops, candy bars With names you didn't recognize but came To learn. All the turf battles. All the war games.

7. When you have forgotten popsicle stick Races along the curb and hydrant fights, Then, retrieve this letter from your stack I've sent by clairvoyant post & read by light. For it brought me as much longing and delight. This week's Father's Day; I've a long ride to Philly. I'll give this to Gramps, then head to Black Lily.

The author organized this poem as a list in order as if he was trying to gather all of his thoughts and memories of his childhood in Philly. The line breaks that he uses, don’t really break up thoughts it just helps give the poem a nice flow, and makes you think about that particular object or thing he was talking about until he explains something else that has to do with it. Also, the only thing that really separates his thoughts are the word, “When you have forgotten.” This lets you know that he I going to talk about a different topic of his childhood.


 * ** Designer Kisses ** |||| ||
 * by Major Jackson ||
 * I'm glum about your sportive flesh in the empire of blab, and the latest guy running his trendy tongue like a tantalizing surge over your molars, how droll. Love by a graveyard //is// redundant, but the skin is an obstacle course like Miami where we are inescapably consigned: tourists keeping the views new. What as yet we desire, our own fonts of adoration. By morning, we're laid out like liquid timepieces, each other's exercise in perpetual enchantment, for there is that beach in us that is untranslatable; footprints abound. I understand: you're at a clothes rack at Saks lifting a white linen blouse at tear's edge wondering. ||  ||
 * I'm glum about your sportive flesh in the empire of blab, and the latest guy running his trendy tongue like a tantalizing surge over your molars, how droll. Love by a graveyard //is// redundant, but the skin is an obstacle course like Miami where we are inescapably consigned: tourists keeping the views new. What as yet we desire, our own fonts of adoration. By morning, we're laid out like liquid timepieces, each other's exercise in perpetual enchantment, for there is that beach in us that is untranslatable; footprints abound. I understand: you're at a clothes rack at Saks lifting a white linen blouse at tear's edge wondering. ||  ||

In this poem, Major Jackson talks about the materialistic world. He writes this poem as if it were a letter to someone. There is no pattern in this poem, but him writing it in paragraph form has really helped to let the reader no how it should sound. In the poem Major Jackson uses the hash tag a couple of times. For example, “Like Miami where we are inescapably consigned: tourist keeping the views new. “ Him using these hash marks makes it seem that he was listing his thoughts. Then to end his poem, in the last line he uses the word “you’re”. “I understand: you’re at a clothes rack at Saks lifting a white linen blouse at tear’s edge wondering. This lets you know that he is defiantly talking to someone.



“Roof of the world”

I live on the roof of the world among the aerial simulacra of Things, among the faded: old tennis shoes, vanished baseballs, heartbreak gritted with dirt. My mind flickers like lightning in a cloud. I’m networked beholding electric wires and church spires. I lean forward and peer at the suffering below— Sartre said: man is condemned to be free. I believe in the dead who claim to believe in me— says, too, the missing and forgotten. Day darkens on. I hear our prayers rising. I sing to you, now

In this poem the author is talking about how in our world things can be so easily forgotten. He starts off with I, but he is talking as if he is us, the world. When he says, “ among the faded” he is talking about the forgotten in both scenarios. First he talks about forgotten things, which are not really important to life. Then he begins to talk about our forgotten loved ones. He makes that connection meaning that all memories should be cherished. In most of the lines, they end with out punctuation. But in some lines he uses dashes. For example, “ I believe in the dead who claim to believe in me-“. This gives the poem an entirely different dimension. It helps