Poetry Brackets!

Today we had a fruitful discussion about the qualities found in good poetry. As a class, you developed a rubric with four criteria. A good poem:

1. Uses imagery and meaningful language to evoke a feeling in the reader.
2. Is organized and easy to read.
3. Raises thoughts and opinions and stays with the reader.
4. Maintains clarity of purpose.

Please read "final four" poems listed here. You can also listen to them via the links provided. Then, vote for the two you think best meet the criteria you've laid out in the rubric. You can vote to the right of this post in the two polls listed in the sidebar.

Please Don't Take My Air Jordans by Reg E. Gaines


Please Don’t Take My Air Jordans by Reg E. Gaines


my air jordans cost a hundred with tax
my suede starters jacket says raiders on the back
i'm stylin . . . smilin . . . lookin real mean cuz
it ain't about bein heard just bein seen

my leather adidas baseball cap
matches my fake gucci backpack
there's nobody out there looks good as me
but the gear costs money it sure ain't free

and i gots no job no money at all
but it's easy to steal fresh gear from the mall
parents say i shouldn't but i know i should
gots ta do what i can to make sure i look good

and the reason i have to look real fly
well to tell ya the truth man i don't know why
i guess it makes me feel special inside
when i'm wearin fresh gear i don't have to hide

but i really must get some new gear soon
or my ego will pop like a ten cent balloon
but security's tight at all the shops
everyday there are more and more cops

my crew's laughin at me cuz i'm wearin old gear
school's almost over summer is near
and i'm sportin torn jordans and need somethin new
there's only one thing left to do

cut school friday catch the subway downtown
check out my victims hangin around
maybe i'll get lucky and find easy prey
gots to get some new gear there's no other way

i'm ready and willin i'm packin my gun
this is serious bizness it sure ain't no fun
but i can't have my posse laughin at me
i'll cop somethin dope just wait you'll see

come out a the station west 4th near the park
brothers shootin hoops and someone remarks
HEY HOMES . . . WHERE'D YOU GET THOSE DEF NIKES
as i said to myself. . . i likes em . . . i likes

they were q-tip white bright and blinded my eyes
the red emblem of michael looked as if it could fly
not one spot of dirt the airs were brand new
had my pistol knew just what to do

followed him very closely behind
waited until it was just the right time
made a left turn on houston pulled out my gun and screamed
GIMME THEM JORDANS . . . and he tried ta run

took off fast but didn't get far
i fired (POW) he fell between two parked cars
he was coughin/cryin/blood dripped on the street
and i snatched them air jordans off a his feet

while layin there dyin all he could say was
please . . . don't take my air jordans away . . .
you think he'd be worried about stayin alive
as i took off with the jordans there were tears in his eyes

the very next day i bopped into school
with my brand new air jordans man was i cool
i killed to get them but hey . . . i don't care
cuz now. . . i needs a new jacket to wear


Still I Rise by Maya Angelou
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Harlem (2) by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?


Is Truth Liberating? by Haki R. Madhubuti

if it is truth that binds
why are there so many lies
between lovers?
if it is truth that is liberating
why are people told:
they look good when they don't
they are loved when they aren't
everything is fine when it ain't
glad you're back when you're not.
Black people in america
may not be made for the truth
we wrap our lives in disco
and sunday sermons
while selling false dreams
to our children.
lies are refundable,
can be bought
on our revolving charge cards
as we all catch truth
on the next go round
if it doesn't hurt.