The Midnight House Elves

For this assignment, students in groups of two and three agreed on an object as the poem’s focus and then took turns composing lines before revising into finished pieces.  Here are my two favorites...

“The Patriot’s Way” by Elizabeth and Jade

Love or leave it, it’s the American way! Adorned in red, white, and blue, foreign blood and soil. Our flag, born in others’ turmoil. The nuclear family roasting meat in summer barbecues and bombing runs. We take pride in white sheets and guns. We the people, the right people, the alt-right, white people. Let us speak our violence and silence dissenters. Our truth abides no question; science has no weight like faith. Obey our way, the right way. “An Aperture View” by Austin, Jose and JP

For this assignment students were grouped into pairs and had to write the rough draft, composing from the last line of the poem and working backward to end with the first line and title.  I couldn't just pick one favorite--yet again--so here are my favorite two...

Students gathered in groups of three for this collaborative poem assignment.  The groups agreed on a theme and a location, and then the poets built the poem by adding lines one after the other, but only reading the line immediately in front of their own for the creation of the rough draft.  Once the draft was built, the group was given fifteen minutes to read and revise the poem, composing a final draft with title.  Here are my two favorite creations...

Club Tropicana by Brandon, HabaKeiee, and Devoné

I need it in my life need singles to throw short life stay on the go poppin’ bottles while I make it rain; all I see is cake ’n ice late nights in Miami— so bright— ten girls wit’ me on South Beach, Benz and bottles fast life slow nights. My diamonds reflect off strobe lights. Trunk full of bricks white suits brown drinks blue nights broken bottles gun shots big fights sugar sands dirty plans after blue pills blue drinks blue bills. Club Tropicana— big money lifestyles bended palms smug smiles.

Oh, How Sweet by Felix, Jose, and Adrian

Scraps of bodies litter the grass— the moon rises; stars shine. A man stands— his shovel digging for parts— painted in blood and ash.

They never saw it coming.

They thought his smile perfect, but his teeth were razor sharp. With killer instincts he bears his fangs hysteria on his mind, shroud in his hand.

All that blood— dug out with a smile— bones picked clean until the sun comes up. He washes the blood from his face before the day’s mourners arrive.