Ryan+Harris

="Poetry is the doorway to the soul." - Floria=

Poetry Statement
I don't really know how I feel about poetry honesty. At times, it's some the most fun I can have with words, but at other times it is a complete and utter pain in the neck. Even though I don't consider myself a great poet (by any means), it still acts as one of the easiest ways a person can just be themselves. For most the original poems I tried to pick things that I felt were close to my heart, much like other poets. Things like my family, friends (obvious stuff), to things like my room or Rage Against The Machine. Considering the latter two, those are very relatable things in my life so thinking of poetry about them isn't hard at all. Yet writing it is a very annoying process. This mainly happened with my "Raised By" and Original Poems. While designing them I would think to myself: Should this have a rhyme scheme? Is it really needed? How should I adjust the line breaks? Do I even need line breaks? All these questions flustering in your head along with trying to write a poem that isn't crap really grates on the mind. But overall it's a very positive that any aspiring writer/poet should trek through.

Five Iambs
Slowly but surely, the rabbit walks home Carrots is what she truly adores here Simone and the rabbit adore carrots For breakfast or dinner they eat here Here they adhere to her special garden

My Sonnet
Suzie with hair like dead monkeys femurs Surely her mom and dad must know of her hair With bag so bad yet she owns it as hers Everyone says she looks like a mad bear Yet almost all days she'd sit in the mud But she wanted something even the most Surely what she wants for her is a stud But doing parties she remained host What she used to secure her stud was hog For hog was a truly crazy creature Maybe would have been better with a dog Yet she knows it, her only good feature Soon taken by that mentally ward Suzie got "I'm the creepy girl" award

"Raised by" Poem
I was raised by bootleg watching glue on weave loud mouth speaking Age 15, breeding And more on the way Type of family

A tall dark skin never finish college cigarette smoking late night non-stop working Changed man Strong lover of his many children Type of people

Some right wing hating Leftist lyricist "Zapatista" movement preaching Black Flag and Red Star "Free Mumia" way of thinking Enraged words spread across ballistic metal sound Kind of people

Grunge addled Screech riddled Bellowing voice to whispering soul Upon a new wave from Seattle Constantly gripped by his vices Kind of people

Where depression racked and rippled each day Wondering "Where's my good morning?" Hoping each day Each day will get just a little brighter Type of people

Knowing that procrastion isn't gonna be the thing that carries them to college Where education matters but is risked at their own cost Knowing they need to pick it up or else their lives are going down, down, down

I was raised by those kinds of intellectuals

Ode To My Room
Small and Cramped 8 by 10 Covered lost homework, classwork, and projects No closet Clothes cover the floors and even my bed Blaring heat 24/7 Even as I use the AC to cool off But I like it the way it is From a stressful day With nothing going my day My room is my solace A place where I can truly decompress

Original Poem
Screaming out the injustices of the world throughout With that leftist fire ever burnin’ That can never be put out When the Man tries his best To silence their words that they speak of Hatred, Racism, Corruption, and Destruction They say “Burn, Burn, Yes you’re gonna burn” For the hurt you caused those innocent Leaving nothing but ashes in the fall In wake of your machine’s dismemberment Their anger incites a war a within the breath Of those who feel they’ve been wrong Those who feel we gotta take the power back Because in their schools they heard nothing but lies Their efforts towards a world not full of Human suffering and Corruption Not full of the ones who wrongfully imprisoned Mumia, Guzmán or Peltier Blazing power chords, bass bumps, and drum pounds Blasting that freedom speech For the freedom of the revolutionists Say tearing this world a new one Using their rage as the tools to Put this machine out of commission.

Poet: Sterling A. Brown
1st Interpretation

Poem: Slim Greer In Hell

Slim Greer went to heaven; St. Peter said, "Slim, You been a right good boy." An' he winked at him. "You been travelin' rascal In yo'day.  You kin roam once mo';  Den you come to stay.  "Put dese wings on yo' shoulders, An' save yo' feet." Slim grin, and he speak up, "Thankye, Pete."  Den Peter say, "Go To Hell an' see, All dat is doing, and Report to me. "Be sure to remember How everything go." Slim say, "I be seein' yuh On de late watch, bo." Slim got to cavortin' Swell as you choose, Like Lindy in de Spirit Of St. Louis Blues. He flew an' he flew, Till at last he hit A hangar wid de sign readin' DIS IS IT. Den he parked his wings, An' strolled aroun', Gittin' used to his feet On de solid ground.

Big bloodhound came aroarin' Like Niagry Falls, Sicked on by white devils In overhalls. Now Slim warn't scared Cross my heart, it's a fac', An de dog went on a bayin' Some po' devil's track. Den Slim saw a mansion An' walked right in; De Devil looked up Wid a sickly grin. "Suttingly didn't look Fo' you, Mr. Greer,  How it happens you comes  To visit here?" Slim say---"Oh, jes' thought I'd drop by a spell." "Feel at home, seh, an' here's De keys to hell." Den he took Slim around An' showed him people Rasin' hell as high as De first Church Steeple. Lots of folks fightin' At de roulette wheel, Like old Rampart Street, Or leastwise Beale. Showed him bawdy houses An' cabarets, Slim thought of New Orleans An' Memphis days. Each devil was busy Wid a devlish broad, An' Slim cried, "Lawdy, Lawd, Lawd, Lawd." Took him in a room Where Slim see De preacher wid a brownskin On each knee. Showed him giant stills, Going everywhere, Wid a passel of devils Stretched dead drunk there. Den he took him to de furnace Dat some devils was firing, Hot as Hell, an' Slim start A mean presspirin'. White devils with pitchforks Threw black devils on, Slim thought he'd better Be gittin' along. An' he says---"Dis makes Me think of home---  Vicksburg, Little Rock, Jackson,  Waco and Rome." Den de devil gave Slim De big Ha-Ha; An' turned into a cracker, Wid a sheriff's star. Slim ran fo' his wings, Lit out from de groun' Hauled it back to St. Peter, Safety boun'.

St. Peter said, "Well, You got back quick.  How's de devil? An' what's  His latest trick?" An' Slim Say, "Peter, I really cain't tell,  The place was Dixie  That I took for hell." Then Peter say, "you must Be crazy, I vow,  Where'n hell dja think Hell was,  Anyhow?  "Git on back to de yearth, Cause I got de fear, You'se a leetle too dumb, Fo' to stay up here. . ."

Interpretation: Sterling A. Brown uses the physical interpretation of devils and Hell as extreme comparison to the Southern United States. He uses the devils to show the types of lifestyles practiced by mainly white citizens in the south. Lines like “Raisin’ hell as high as De first Church Steeple”, “Lots of folks fightin’ At de roulette wheel” and “Each devil busy wid a devilish broad” demonstrate the violence and seediness that plague the south during the time period. As the reader continues on they read on about even more terrible things these “devils” are doing. The line “White devils with pitchforks threw black devils on” and “Vicksburg, Little Rock, Jackson,Waco and Rome” are Sterling A. Brown’s comment on the racism and Slim’s thoughts as he remembers cities where he encountered racism in his life. “There are only two line breaks throughout the entire poem are representative of two things: Slim’s departure from Heaven, then entrance to Hell and Slim’s escape from Hell back into Heaven. Speech patterns in the poem are very reminiscent of a Southern/Country accent. This make sense in the context of characters in the poem, they are mainly people living in the South.

2nd Interpretation

Poem: Riverbank Blues

Little Muddy, Big Muddy, Moreau and Osage, Little Mary's, Big Mary's, Cedar Creek, Flood deir muddy water roundabout a man's roots, Keep him soaked and stranded and git him weak.

Lazy sun shinin' on a little cabin, Lazy moon glistenin' over river trees; Ole river whisperin', lappin' 'gainst de long roots: "Plenty of rest and peace in these . . ."

Big mules, black loam, apple and peach trees, But seems lak de river washes us down Past de rich farms, away from de fat lands, Dumps us in some ornery riverbank town.

Went down to the river, sot me down an' listened, Heard de water talkin' quiet, quiet lak an' slow: "Ain' no need fo' hurry, take yo' time, take yo' time . . ." Heard it sayin'--"Baby, hyeahs de way life go . . ."

Dat is what it tole me as I watched it slowly rollin', But somp'n way inside me rared up an' say, "Better be movin' . . . better be travelin' . . . Riverbank'll git you ef you stay . . ."

Towns are sinkin' deeper, deeper in de riverbank, Takin' on de ways of deir sulky Ole Man-- Takin' on his creepy ways, takin' on his evil ways, "Bes' git way, a long way . . . whiles you can. "Man got his sea too lak de Mississippi Ain't got so long for a whole lot longer way, Man better move some, better not git rooted Muddy water fool you, ef you stay. ..

Interpretation: The poet uses tree roots as a metaphor for the slaves body. In the 3rd and 4TH lines of the first stanza, he uses “Flood deir muddy water roundabout a man's roots” and “Keep him soaked and stranded and git him weak.” This shows as tree roots constantly soak up water and nutrients, the slave constantly working is leaving him/her weakened. In the 1st and 2nd lines of the second stanza, the poet uses the word “lazy” to describe the long days of working and hardship on a slave. The personification of the river telling the slave “Ain’ no need fo’ a hurry…Baby, hyeahs de way life go”. Yet as the reader continues on into the next stanza, the slave defies the words of the river and tells himself "Better be movin' . . . better be travelin'...Riverbank'll git you ef you stay . . ." The final stanza of the poem serves as the final warning to the reader. Phrases like “Towns are sinkin' deeper, deeper in de riverbank” and “Man better move some, better not git rooted Muddy water fool you, ef you stay” tells the reader that this is only a city for the doomed and you must stay away by all means.

3rd Interpretation

Poem: Ma Rainey

When Ma Rainey Comes to town, Folks from anyplace Miles aroun’, From Cape Girardeau, Poplar Bluff, Flocks in to hear Ma do her stuff; Comes flivverin’ in, Or ridin’ mules, Or packed in trains, Picknickin’ fools. . . . That’s what it’s like, Fo’ miles on down, To New Orleans delta An’ Mobile town, When Ma hits Anywheres aroun’.

Dey comes to hear Ma Rainey from de little river settlements, From blackbottorn cornrows and from lumber camps; Dey stumble in de hall, jes a-laughin’ an’ a-cacklin’, Cheerin’ lak roarin’ water, lak wind in river swamps.

An’ some jokers keeps deir laughs a-goin’ in de crowded aisles, An’ some folks sits dere waitin’ wid deir aches an’ miseries, Till Ma comes out before dem, a-smilin’ gold-toofed smiles An’ Long Boy ripples minors on de black an’ yellow keys.

O Ma Rainey,Sing yo’ song; Now you’s backWhah you belong, Git way inside us, Keep us strong. . . . O Ma Rainey,Li’l an’ low; Sing us ’bout de hard luck Roun’ our do’; Sing us ’bout de lonesome road We mus’ go. . ..

I talked to a fellow, an’ the fellow say, “She jes’ catch hold of us, somekindaway. She sang Backwater Blues one day:

//‘It rained fo’ days an’ de skies was dark as night,// Trouble taken place in de lowlands at night.

‘Thundered an’ lightened an’ the storm begin to roll Thousan’s of people ain’t got no place to go.

‘Den I went an’ stood upon some high ol’ lonesome hill, //An’ looked down on the place where I used to live.’//

An’ den de folks, dey natchally bowed dey heads an’ cried, Bowed dey heavy heads, shet dey moufs up tight an’ cried, An’ Ma lef’ de stage, an’ followed some de folks outside.” Dere wasn’t much more de fellow say: She jes’ gits hold of us dataway.

Interpretation: The poem is in complete praise of Ma Rainey. Portions like “Flocks in to hear…Come flivverin’ in, or ridin’ mules, or packed in trains” only shows that men from all over town just to hear her sing. The reader can see that Ma Rainey plays a very special role in these men’s lives. This is only emphasized more in the second and third parts of the poem. Ma Rainey caters to their souls by singing about the hard lives they live. Lines “Dey stumble in de hall, jes a-laughin’ an’ a-cacklin’,” “An’ some jokers keeps deir laughs a-goin’ in de crowded aisles,” are proof of that. The fourth and final part of the poem demonstrates something interesting. It suggests that Ma Rainey has supernatural powers through her songs. Her songs can actually predict horrible events and the men believe it. The line where she sings: “//‘It rained fo’ days an’ de skies was dark as night,”// comes to life when that very experience happens that night.