Got myself a gun rough draft

Got myself a gun

 

          Living in the streets of New York, <no comma Omar was just cleaning the kitchen and washing the dishes while his grandparents go out to church on a Sunday afternoon. While mopping the floor, Omar hears police sirens and guns shoots shots around his apartment on 25th street. As soon as the shootings stop, Omar assumes the gun fight was over . Omar decides to take the garbage outside. Once outside, he sees police officers walking about looking for evidences of the gun fight. It was normal for him to see that kind of stuff around his neighborhood; it was a common thing. While he was walking to the front of his house he notice blood and bullets casings around his front yard. Omar didn't care much so he just open the trash can. Once open, he didn't believe his eyes; he came across a bag  half open with cash and a pistol. He was shock and  quickly grab the bag and dump the garbage and ran inside the house. Once he was  inside the house, Omar's  blood was rushing.  His heart was pounding as if he was running from the cops himself and the joy on his face to realizing that he found money and a gun. He ran upstairs to his room and locked the door. He jumped onto his bed and open the bag. He then took out all the stuff in the bag which contain $328 in cash and a loaded pistol. He didn't care much about the money but only the rush of holding the gun.

          While holding the gun and aiming it around like a cowboy, his grandparents came back from church. Omar had seen his grandparents' car rolled up into driveway and he knew he had to hide the money and the toy. <a real gun or a toy gun? So, he hid it under his mattress and rush downstairs to open the door.  Hi grand ma and grand pa" Omar said. How was church? Church was rich with joy and wisdom grandpa said. What happen here this afternoon? Grand ma said while going inside the house. Omar just said, "oh just another police chase, It might be on the news tonight grand ma"!." It's always problems in this city, grand ma said," I blame the parents of these young people." I don't like how society is these days." I blame the schools and parents." I know grand ma I know, Omar replied.  Once Omar grandparents got settled in, Omar went back upstairs to play with his new toy.  Omar locked the door and grab his gun and started aiming at objects in his room. "Bam, bam, bam" was all he can think of in his head. "This is what happens when you mess around with a gangster" Omar said out loud." I'm a gangster"!

Tracks of the Wandering Mind

Tracks of the Wandering Mind
I want sometimes naught but to weep
As standing by the trestle deep
I long to follow that railroad train
To a realm of dream that's free of pain.
What an urge I have to stray somewhere.
On a train that's bigger than a bear
Which climbs up toward old mountain peaks
And watch the sea for days and weeks.
A train to some vast tropic isle
Where swaying beauty makes me smile.
But the trains of reality just skitter off
And my city home where pollution does cough
Doesn't let me see the pyramids
Or drink till dawn with memory's kids,
Or ride off to the Orient
To get away from this discontent.
But today something inside me went through a shift
And gave my spritis that needed lift,
And I bid adieu to my dreams of escape
While the train roared through like a ghostly shape.
Please do the following by cutting and pasting the poem.

In line six, I think the author was thinking about bears at the time. I also think the author was picturing their self in front of a bear and escaping from the bear on a train.

I want sometimes useless but too cry for
As standing by the old broken orange door
I long to follow that railroad train
To a place where my thoughts  and feelings are safe from pain.

Poem Review 2

Original
But left me like the tide that goes out
and we can never stop it or get it repaired,
You are the only one I care so much about
and yet where is to be found another like you

New

But left me like the sun that comes down at night

and we cannot fix or stop which is not broken,

You are the only person I care so much about

and yet I can never find anyone like you.

Poem Review

Blue-alliteration,
Red -assonance
Yellow-repetition
Green-rich consonance
Gray-partial consonance


The dusk of evening comes on. Earlier a little rain
had fallen. You open a drawer and find inside
the man's photograph, knowing he has only two years
to live. He doesn't know this, of course,
that's why he can mug for the camera.
How could he know what's taking root in his head
at that moment? If one looks to the right
through boughs and tree trunks, there can be seen
crimson patches of the after-glow. No shadows, no
half-shadows. It is still and damp....
The man goes on mugging. I put the picture back
in its place along with the others an give
my attention instead to the after-glow along the far ridge,
light golden on the roses in the garden.
Then, I can't help myself, I glance once more
at the picture. The wink, the broad smile,
the jaunty slant of the cigarette.

Poem 2

Monkey see, Monkey do

I want to dress like him but he tells me no

I want to act like him but he tell me I'm too young

He's a rebel in the house, eats, sleep, and does what

ever he wants but why does mom and dad loves him?

He wakes me up for school and tells me to never stop learning

I listen of course to him but when mom and dad say the same thing,

I don’t listen. I see him hang with his friends in front of the house. He

Drinks and smoke but he's only five years older than me and he's under age to

drink. But why does mom and dad still care for him?

I come home from school and I still see him with his friends. I wait for him to sleep

when I drink the left over alcohol and light the cigarettes bud and smoke it. He doesn’t go to school or work but I still admire him. He's too cool for school I tell myself in my head.

But why does mom and dad still call him son and boy?

The day starts the same, He wakes me up for school and I head off

As I walk out the door, the same friends come back and hangs with him.

I come back from school and I see him with a needle, spoon, and a lighter

I thought he was bored and playing with things, I was wrong

I go in the house and watch him through the window. He sticks the needle in his arm

and he falls back like a falling tree. His friends are falling like dominos as well. I

guess they must love him as much as I do too

He comes back in the house to sleep like always, I wait for him to sleep when I test out the

sharp, skinny, smooth needle. I followed everything he did and stuck it in my arms.

I couldn’t breathe, speak, or move. I just knew how to fall back on the stairs.

Now mom and dad is mad at him but why? I guess I can sleep away the pain and never wake up.

Maybe mom and dad can forgive  him like I do.

That’s a Big one

The boys of the house always go fishing on Sunday.

We would go out fishing at 5am and come back home 4pm.

Our goal is to catch the Big one but no one ever does. We just end up

buying our own fish from the store and have mom cook it

We would go to the same spot to fish, nothing new or boring but

we love to smell the little guys jumping out of the water. I feel like

their screaming out come and get me when they jump out but that’s my

imagination

I see dad and my brother cast their fishing poles into the water.

I wait and play with the slimy worms in the cup my dad bought at the fishing store.

When I get bored with the short, skinny, smooth worms, I cast my fish.

We don’t catch anything but we always hope the Big one chooses are tasty worm

We wait and wait and next thing you notice is the sun saying goodbye.

Dad always say reel it in boys, mom and waiting for the fake store bought fish.

We reel it in knowing it was fun day under the sun.

We pack our stuff and make sure we look at the water to see him the Big one

jumps out to say goodbye as well but nothing comes up. The Big will get caught one day boy, dad always say after a long warm sunny day. I tell dad and brother I'll catch the Big one and give it too mom but I want to say we all caught the big one and not just me cause were the Sunday

crew, I'll get the Big one as long as we say That’s the Big one

Incredible Hulk

I love watching the incredible Hulk on TV.

He gets mad and saves the day from the bad guys.

He turns green and gets super strong and beats up the bad guys.

But he get red when he's mad

In the show, the incredible Hulk start off like a normal person just like him.

But when someone makes him angry, the incredible hulk because the hero. But

when someone makes him mad or angry, he starts to hurt us. Why are they different?

He gets mad when something doesn’t taste, talk or even the time of day it is.

If nothing does his way, the angry red man starts to hurt, break, and make good people sad.

In the show the Incredible Hulk is always hurting the bad people, does that make us bad people?

I love watching the incredible Hulk on TV.

He gets mad and saves the day from the bad guys.

He turns green and gets super strong and beats up the bad guys.

But he get red when he's mad

Poem 3

Attic Revelation

Minerva, anguished goddess of tormented years?

Before my darkened altar of my soul's quiescent solitude

twined my childish hand around the dusty magic

of the puissant knight.

But sharing treasure leads, I learned too late,

to slapping atavistic violence.

Grabbed from my trembling hands into her own,

resuscitated memories unflinched her eyes.

My aging face even today replays

the inarticulate response, and reddens still

from the unreconcilable and suicidal past.

---

The Picture

She was as saddened as a boatless winter lake

when all of it had taken place.

The darkened attic of that ancient house

was where I played alone and where I found

that dusty, cobwebbed oil-painted portrait.

Maybe not the pirate's chest of gold

I had longed to find up there

in that mysterious upper room--my secret playground,

but something nonetheless distinctly magical,

this painted figure of a handsome man

with his old-fashioned mustache and brown eyes.

As swift as Hermes and excited as a frog in rain

I brought it down to show my mom

who at the time was in the kitchen

singing to herself and baking

those thick choclate brownies that I used to love.

But nothing could prepare me

for the dreadful nightmare of that moment

when she saw what I had carried down.

She grabbed it from my trembling hands

and tore it up and slapped me

as hard as the slap of water must have crossed

the doomed Titanic's broken hull.

Astonished (I was innocent at twelve)

it's hardly a surprise that I didn't understand

that picture was a portrait of my dad

who had killed himself some three months

before I had been born. How as I to know

that I had done something wrong?

I cried myself to sleep that night

and even now I still remember that sad time.

---

The Portrait

My mother never forgave my father

for killing himself,

especially at such awkward time

and in a public park,

that spring

When I was waiting to be born.

She locked his name

in her deepest cabinet

and would not let him out,

Though I could hear him thumping.

When I came down from the attic

with the pastel portrait in my hand

of a long-lipped stranger

with a brave moustache

and deep brown level eyes,

she ripped it into shreds

without a single word

And slapped me hard.

In my sixty-fourth year

I can feel my cheek

still burning.

--Stanley Kunitz

From the first poem to the last poem, I can see the transformation from nothing to something. In the first two poems I didn’t understand what was going on. All I can sense was pain and despair but in the last poem I can see the author was targeting her father she never knew. So I went back to the first two poems and I took the idea from the last poem and place a father figure in the two poems and It kind of made sense.

First poem:"My aging face even today replays"

Last poem: "In my sixty-fourth year"

Both talked about age.

Second poem: " that picture was a portrait of my dad"

Last poem: "My mother never forgave my father"

Both talk about a father

 Second poem: "who had killed himself some three months"

Last poem:  "for killing himself,"

Both talked about the death of a father