Poetry Anthology
By Gavin Molina
Introduction
"Where I'm From"
I am from the book, from the Dictionary of humanity and keeper of secrets.
I am from the land of North Texas.
I am from the pedals of a rose, the thorns are my pieces of knowledge.
I am from the life of a good party and the last of royal Irish blood, from Tracy Morgan and Martin Molina and the Molina’s.
I am from the deepest and darkest of truths and of extensive foresight.
From when I started the fight or ended it and whether or not some things shouldn’t be said.
I am not restrained by any religion. Only myself and my will to drive me.
I'm from the bright lights of the Baylor Scott & White Medical Center and my ancestors buried in Irish dirt, with enchiladas and boxty.
From the legendary sniper that was my great great grandfather, who served in WWi and WWii, and his heroic brother who served alongside him as a heavy gunner.
I am from the battlefield itself, the many badges resembling the difference my family has made, and furthermore victories to come.
"Narrative Poem"
We live our lives
to the fullest.
Until it overflows,
and you turn belly up.
You appear in a field,
a field of golden wheat.
With a tower ahead,
just grazing the sky.
The great blue sky,
every inch of purity
There are two sides,
of the long, slow walk.
Both occupy a section
of your dead mind.
You appear in a field,
a field of black dirt.
With a broken tower,
in a diseased sky.
With all those you love,
trying to kill you.
There is no grey area,
access to another life,
or the curse of infinite death.
The twittering tweet of a bird,
or the booms and bangs of an army.
Oh, but both paths lead to salvation.
"Extended Metaphor"
within me, existing one goal.
To push past those who see me as nothing,
and make myself in something once thought dead.
For I am as solid as the ground we stand on.
I am the will of a rebel,
within me, a causeless warrior.
To push past the authority of a fat cat,
and make myself ruler of a new world.
With intentions clearer than the air we breath.
I am the voice of the less fortunate,
within me, a gun drawn for uprising.
To push past damage control,
and make myself the leader of a new cause.
And the smoke and fire danced like a ballroom blitz.
I am the BANG and POW of a riot,
within me, the might of the scarred.
To push past this storm of lies,
and make myself into a seeker of truths.
To make those tyrants deader than a door nail.
"Ode to the Ring"
A ring saved him.
A ring saved my grandfather,
from certain death.
And all after him
His rifle on his shoulder,
hidden in his belt
a knife.
At his hip, a M1911
The bang and clang
of shrapnel and shoots.
BOOM, a grenade goes off,
5 feet away.
Seeking metal,
poised like a snake,
Only leaving mercy for my
great, great, great grandfather.
Only him left, untouched by war.
Only his skills and bullets
to help him.
A ring saved a legend,
to live another day.
My Ode to The Ring:
An object can provide much more than a memento, in any situation.
"Sonnet"
and an uprising starts because of love.
One cannot exist without the other,
so both are meaningless all by themselves.
Without lust, love cannot be what it is,
and without a cause, a riot is pointless.
The lust in love is the cause of a riot,
and the lust in war is the cause of love.
A soldier fights for those he cares and loves,
while a rebel fights for everyone.
It's up to anyone to figure out
who is more righteous than the other.
Love and war is a lot like Yin and Yang,
one cannot exist without the other.
TPCASTT
Because I could not stop for Death (479)
Emily Dickinson, 1830 - 1886
Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality. We slowly drove – He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility – We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess – in the Ring – We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain – We passed the Setting Sun – Or rather – He passed us – The Dews drew quivering and chill – For only Gossamer, my Gown – My Tippet – only Tulle – We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground – The Roof was scarcely visible – The Cornice – in the Ground – Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses’ Heads Were toward Eternity –
TPCASTT
The title could mean that the speaker went to far beyond life, that death could not stop her, from whatever goal she might have had.
P - Paraphrase
The speaker must be talking about about her transcends from life to death, with Death riding alongside her as she passes into purgatory.
C - Connotation
Another meaning for this poem would be a sickness that was slowly enveloping the speaker. Maybe passing her into a coma, and the slight probability of coming back.
A - Attitude
The general attitude seems either dark or extremely monotone. The speaker doesn't place much of an opinion on any thing, shes just being captain obvious about everything.
S - Shifts
The underlined text is were the tone of the poem changes. The speaker goes from talking about rather positive subjects to dark and slightly disturbing stuff.
T - Title
After reading the poem, the title provides a very clear meaning to the hole thing. As it represents a carriage ride with Death, in no hurry at all, strolling threw the frontier, and slowly it gets dark and they come upon a grave stone, with the speakers name on it.
T - Theme
The theme of the poem is what might happen to someone who has died, or has been dead for a rather long time.