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Final response

This class has taught me a lot about the different types of poetry, and how to use them in an effective manner. I honestly never knew there were so many kinds of poetry. I should have guessed that since poetry is an art form, it would go through all the same movements as something like painting would.  Poetry can be especially challenging for someone that is very visual, like myself, but I enjoyed getting to learn about all the different ways to create poems. I am a strong believer in all forms of art because even if you never master something, the learning experience will help your brain to think in different ways you might not otherwise try or realize. Poetry is very effective in this as its many forms allow you to problem solve and create new things in different ways. Art strengthens the mind in ways that no other subject can.   Another thing this class has taught me is there is no wrong way to do poetry. I wasn't sure what to expect coming into it, but I'm glad I cho
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drawing

surrealist

Catfish walking sideways down the never-ending hall. The waves are crashing hard against the wooden castle walls.  Red carpet spans the spiraling staircase. Up, up, up, it goes. See the stars twinkling down into the yard, a massive garden erupts from the ash. Petals are dancing through the night as the brisk air whistles through the trees. Say it isn't so as the night begins to end the sun peaks his head up from the waters loving grasp horses silhouetted atop the river's hills dew sparkling in the new found light hearts are racing through the fields of green If home they were, then home they must go. Eyes are sparkling in crevices and crooks. One more day may pass, or has it gone? Just listen to the moonlight as it starts to sing its song.

shape

                                         The frostbite crawls across                              her skin                                        the feeling                   soon will                       stop                            her heart              has slowed                     its beating                           her pulse        begins                                   to drop                                   perhaps           we are                                                                             too young              to feel,                                                                  perhaps we                          are too old                              the warmth, it was                               so welcoming until it turned to cold

Blackout/collage poem

Art and a few known questions always produce an impact on the world Depression wanted her to deteriorate frustration erupted into violence smashing and breaking, a consequence of psycoloigical torture.

CUBIST

Don't / too / close / get haunted / place / That / is Fear / the / ghosts / not she / Cos / running / sent / them surface / She / the / beneath / sleeps the / with / Consorting / serpents She / a / purpose / strikes / without A / dark / face / a / corridor / in beautiful / Deceptively you / She's / watching She's / everything / in / do / you Her / so / it / kiss / tastes / sweet a / left / But / me / lethargy / with couldn't / shake, / I / grave / made / a / I / mistake gave / it / want / my / didn't / heart, / I / she / her anyway / and / put / a / spell / Took / dark / on / it / it the / Since / then / haven't / been / same / I Needed / victim / a / she / and / it / got with / in / stop / to / her / me / Took / song, / it / powerless her / Some / don't / dare / men / name / speak / to She / picked / my / decline / from / up / me wounds / Healed / and / love

stop

stop telling me whats perfect stop telling me whats best stop telling me that I can't trust the heart inside my chest stop telling me "be honest" it's all I ever do stop telling me its all ok, can't trust myself, or you stop telling me to trust the plan, I'm tired of the wait stop telling me "stop crying" because you're a little late