Creative Prompt: Write about yourself I am/was use of metaphor or you can write about someone else He/She is/was...Feel free to move through time and add phrases like "when I was young I was...
I AM, Aldo I am the spirit of my Aztec brother. I am the mind of my fellow Maya, and the heart of my fellow Incas. I am a time gone bye. I am a fleeting moment, a value no longer held by a “decent” society. Tamed as though an elephant, that does not know he can break his bondage. I was powerful... I was raised into a jungle, a world where words cut as though daggers and warriors are raised to be quick witted like a cheetah running through the jungle. I use my words to slay giants as though David facing Goliath. Small rocks kill big men with the value of their composite. I am like a Lemur, for fear of being left behind I raise my head, but the eagle flies about. I once again become submissive to a society who no longer understands or tolerates who I was. I am a time long gone. I AM, Michael I am the rain drop on a glass that just wouldn’t stream. Negligent to what gravity means cause reflections tell me that even windows have panes. I am the tears that wishes to role merrily from dreams. Imbued by the fulfillment of knowing delighted gains. I am the mind that was convinced that nothing is as it seemed Until witnessing that what sheds from the brokenhearted leave no stains Full me once, Please full me again believing we all sustain I am the full who knows no quit Only to strive through the strains. I am the last one to be picked Yet the first to be blamed I am forever imprisoned Cause I wish to unlock my chains My only vision Is to cary on upon sunlit plains The hopes to be for ever imprisoned Amongst daisies trapped in the rain May substance seep through life’s incisions Soothings its pains He is, Julia K He is a tornado, ripping through the skies. He is a fighter, handing out black eyes. He is a T-Rex, devouring all he sees. He is a train, with nowhere else to go. He is a firecracker, shrieking in the night. He is an orchestra, of noises all alight. He is a thunderclap, breaking overhead. He is the storm, that engulfs you whole. He is home away from home, such a welcome sight. He is the warmth from a roaring fire on a snow-covered hill. He is hope, of a kinder world than this. He is the ashes, which brings new life to grow I was, Ellen I was a quiet kid, a researcher, a scientist - I explored the outdoors & observed everyone inside - Making sense of the world around me, Deciphering who was safe and who to trust. I learned the bark of every tree I climbed, And could find a four leaf clover from three feet away - I knew rules and plays of little league basketball - And who I didn’t trust to have my back in the woods and on the court. As my circle grew, I became more outspoken, Realizing that often the people I was weary of letting in, Where the ones who most needed to be let in, And that when I spoke up for myself, I was often speaking up for us. These days people sometimes say I’m loud, Perhaps surprised that as small women I have opinions, Now I know who I can trust and that being vulnerable is actually courageous, And I am a megaphone for anyone who feels silenced & wants to be heard I am a cautious tiger approaching a fire, Optimistic that my journey might inspire others, Loud in the face of injustice so that I might ignite change Above the monotonous chatter that keeps things the same.
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Today's group was focused on reflecting on impactful memories. We created a poem using the following steps which Jeff shared with us: #1 Name the memory or picture in 2 words #2 In a sentence tell the story of the memory OR Write down 2 adjectives that describe the memory #3 Write 3 verbs using "ing" to describe actions related to the memory OR Write 2 pairs of words--in each pair use a color and a feeling from the memory #4 Create a phrase or sentence about the memory using "like" or "as" #5 If there’s an animal in your memory what is it and what is it doing? OR If your memory was an animal what animal would it be and what would it be doing? #6 Now, make up a different name from the 2 words in #1 for your memory. You can name it with as many words as you like. Now, starting with #1 as your title write out what you have as a poem--you may break lines where you wish. Obtaining a bachelor’s degree, Justin D Relief, Gratitude Concluding a long journey on my own terms Invigorating, comforting, motivating It’s like finding inspiration, as a butterfly finds new life after breaking free from it’s cocoon A caged mountain lion set free into the wild A journey to find me Louie Turkeyham, Ellen
Unjust, hurt - Teasing, Infuriating, Retaliating, Getting even was like buying stake In the playground, A turkey dancing, The tears of a turkey. Oftentimes, food holds traditions for us, memories of childhood or a special time. Write about a food that you love, miss, make, desire, or enjoy sharing. Pizza Night, Justin D
It’s Friday night and Mom just picked us up from the babysitter’s house. We pile in the car, me and my two brothers. My brothers ask Mom, what’s for dinner, but I know it’s pay day. Mom works all week and usually cooks us a great meal when we get home. But, on Friday’s it’s pizza day. As we pull up to the bustling old-world Italian New York Pizza Shop, my mouth begins to water. The smell is amazing, and we can hardly contain ourselves. Tomato sauce, bread baking, spices like oregano, garlic, and basil drift from the pizzeria into the open car window. A group of people stand on a line that stretches out the door, and here comes Mom. She is carrying a heavenly white box that reads Brother’s Pizzeria. We all volunteer to hold the box, thinking who ever carries it in the house has first dibs on the first slice. I’m the oldest, so she gives it to me, with glee and delight I hold the warm box with a big smile. I look at my Mom with gratitude and respect. Thanks for pizza night Mom. Writing Prompt: What do you believe is the most unfair thing about the criminal justice system?? The Worst Part, Mark T. The worst part of the criminal justice system in general is the fact that they treat us as if we are subhuman. For the most part, the system claims to rehabilitate, but in reality, all they do is punish. Tragically, the punishment does not stop the moment one walks out of prison. On September 12, 2018, I walked out of prison after serving 21 years, 4 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days, and every day of my incarceration felt like a perpetual state of misery. I did not realize that I would be greeted by over 44,000 collateral consequences upon my release. These collateral consequences immediately marginalized me upon my release, making successful reentry incredibly difficult. The two consequences that have made progress incredibly difficult are I cannot go further than 50 miles from my residence without written approval from my parole officer and his supervisor. Prior to the Civil War, slaves could not leave the plantation without written approval from their so-called masters. These policies, although centuries apart, are one and the same. I do not have a single family member within 50 miles of my current residence. My daughter lives in San Diego, my terminally ill father lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and all of my siblings life on the East Coast. I cannot see any of them because they are all beyond the 50-mile radius. I ask for a pass to go to Los Angeles in order to work in different areas of the Anti-Recidivism Coalition, the non-profit organization that I currently work for. When that pass was denied two weeks ago, they told me that they would not be signing any passes for the remainder of the year due to COVID-19. So I will not be able to travel outside of Crescent City, a place where I hardly know anyone, until next year. Instead of being confined to cotton fields like my ancestors, I am being confined to a city. Where is the justice in that. The fact that I cannot vote is reminiscent of the three-fifths clause of the United States Constitution (1787) which declared that, for the purposes of congressional representation, enslaved blacks in a state would only be counted as three-fifths of the number of the white inhabitants of that state. The disenfranchisement of Black voters, like myself and my great-great grandparents, is not a new phenomenon in the United States of America. Black voters have been systematically turned away from state polling places since this country’s inception. In the not too distant past, poll taxes, literacy tests, fraud, and intimidation tactics were all used to deny African Americans the right to vote. Today, our past criminal records have been weaponized and used to deny us the right to vote. Again, different tactic, same outcome—the disenfranchisement of otherwise qualified voters. I am not, nor is anyone else on this planet, three-fifths of a human being. I am a son who loves and respects my parents. I am a father who loves and cherishes my daughter. I am an uncle who does everything in my power to support and guide my nieces and nephews. I am a brother who has seven siblings, all of who I love with all of my heart. I am a citizen of the United States of America who loves my country, and as such, I want to see our country live up to its full potential. In order for that to happen, we all must have a say in this democracy. Fair, Avaeta A. What’s fair? Do the crime, do the time, Does the time fit the crime? How much time is enough? How many lifetimes will they do? When will it be enough for you? Lady Liberty is blind, Blind to the injustice There’s no such thing as blind justice When they get out, IF they get out, They are still judged Wasn’t the time enough? Justice, Justin D. The criminal justice system is missing the justice. The penance and punishment model of behavior modification has proven to be unreliable. Antiquated tools of oppression for social control return from overt, to covert, and now back to overt. I see illegitimate vengeance from the state disguised as justice. I see unfair punishment masked as accountability. When is the system held accountable? When will the people hold the system accountable? Neglect, for the homeless, hungry, and uneducated? Where is the accountability for the many injustices that we know, we absolutely know, lead to devastating outcomes for people? Abuse, for the violence perpetrated against marginalized people. The separation of countless families, where is the accountability for this atrocity? How many innocent men have been put to death? Society, the state, the system, it engages in legal acts defined as legal for itself, yet citizens are classified as criminals for partaking in the exact same behavior. This is the ugly hypocrisy we must live with. Forgiveness is expected to come quick when the state engages in criminal acts, and we the people are expected to move on. Redundant Questions, Ellen
It's funny that we call a system wrought with inequality "the justice system," Created to keep us safe - But who is "us?" It's hard to believe in justice if you're black or brown, If you're poor or undocumented, If you live in a certain zip code or live in specific housing. The judge becomes a magician - Suddenly turning young people who can't vote, buy cigarettes, or even drive into adults who must survive - A place where the clothes are too big the people are too strong, and compassion is too small. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong color, wrong name. We can justify justice a million different ways, but until everyone experiences equal opportunity and equitable treatment, we will continue to feed a system of injustice, One where you can pay bail and keep your job, and without cash, you may go to jail. So what's wrong with the justice system? This feels like another conversation where you're not listening. Rafael shared a short highlighting the Get on the Bus program and the kids' and moms' experiences: https://www.shortoftheweek.com/2017/08/18/mothers-day/
Group Writing Prompts 1. How did it feel when you were locked up and couldn't vote or be part of your community in an active way? 2. How do you feel about having your voice, vote, or actions being part of your community now that you're out? 3. How would it feel to be able to vote while on parole? 4. What does it mean to you (and others you know) if Proposition 17 (ACA 6) passes in November? Share out, discussion, and next steps! Check in & discussion of the narrative in film.
View short films created by ARCreatives women last year (see below). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cq0roUA34is&t=4s Comfort Food - Carmilla Ligons https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=my1jDqfU0Mc&t=2s From Tuscan to the Sky - Liz Campbell https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2HYxwTOYMwg Ready, Set - Michelle Fennell Writing Prompt for next group: How have your grown and in what ways have you been resilient? Stories consist of a plot and the plot is the sequences of events that keep a story in motion (physical - actual motion & emotional energy). The plot is built from desire, obstruction, & action. Consider Joseph Campbell's A Hero's Journey. Every story has a beginning, a middle and an end. In the beginning you setup your hero and their story, then you throw something at them that is a great source of conflict and takes them into a whole heap of trouble. After facing many foes and overcoming various obstacles the hero saves the day and wins their love interest. If only writing a movie was that easy... The thing is, there are many forms of structure and some writers subscribe to one formula, while others subscribe to another. Some try not to subscribe to any and see the whole idea of structure as "evil", feeling that a story should evolve organically without rules confining ideas or obstructing the creative flow. In the end, a story should dictate the kind of structure it follows or whether it shouldn't follow a structure at all. There's no point trying to write a comedy and forcing the structure of a thriller upon it - it won't work. Well, theoretically it won't but I'm sure someone will find a way! Let your characters define the story and your story define your structure and then use a formula if necessary to tighten your script. The trick is to initially let the ideas flow without paying too much attention to structure and then in your second pass begin to focus your story and separate the wheat from the chaff. The 12 Stages of The Hero's Journey is a popular form of structure derived from Joseph Campbell's Monomyth from his book The Hero With A Thousand Faces and adapted by Christopher Vogler is the Twelve Stage Hero's Journey. This is essentially a more detailed Character Arc for your story's hero which is overlaid onto the more traditional three-act structure that many successful Hollywood movies such as Star Wars and The Wizard of Oz when analyzed appear to follow.
Shared work
My First Vote, Justin D I walked into the auditorium of the school. The tables set up nice and neat, and the volunteers at each table eager to help. But I don’t need any help, this was something I waited my whole childhood to do. I signed my name on the sheet of paper and proceeded to walk past those long gray curtains. It all became real, my voice matters. Vote, Doug J Because your future, my future, our future depends on it. Vote so we don't have to have another generation to simply get lost in the dust. Vote so who we are isn't dictated by those who know nothing about us. Vote so our voices can be heard. Vote so we can see our differences and learn to be cordial amongst them. Vote because it matters, vote because you matter. Vote because the reality we are in, the future we seek depends on it. Vote, Vota, Ellen G Si, se puede! Be the change- Change this broken system, Unless your right have been broken by the system. Are you a citizen? Are you on parole? Do you have a felony conviction? Are you deemed mentally incapacitated? Do you have proper ID? Si, se puede, Be the change, Change is gonna come, But history may repeat itself first - again and again. First come white men with land, Vote yes if you want women to have a voice, March if you believe in voting rights for black folks, Change the law, create new barriers, Miscount ballots, provide false voting information, Changes to keep our country from change. CAN YOU HEAR ME, Ricardo L. Silence was the morning, quiet raising of the sun not a sweet song of birds, Barkless dogs no cars no children playing, Silent streets silent minds, Is this the chains of my slavery my life must endure… Silence was that morning, as the gates open for me as I took that first breath of what was claimed “free”… Silence was the morning seeing wanting Willing, B-27816, Still no children playing… Today I said, ”I Do”, a wife a child A Family/ A new reality… I said “I Do”' But who heard it?... Silence is the years, No voice No power to protect, for my wife and child’s fears… Silence is my bondage My punishment, B-27816 In silence , and tears, Finally, hoping to be heard After more than 43 Years. Vote, Avaeta A They tell you to vote, To create change, We voted, And still more of the same. We voted. WE, Voted. Did we? Who voted? Who gets to vote? It's a Right, right? Or, Is it a form of control? Let us think, We have the power, Is it really ours? What is our power? How do we fight? To be heard? To use our voice? To make change? We Vote... Writing prompt: What is bringing you hope right now OR, what pandemic would you hope to end? Eulogy to Power, Ellen My first day of kindergarten, my teacher lied to me, Thinking I was too young to handle the truth, she kept it from me. When I discovered the truth I cried twice as hard - once for the truth and once for the lie. I learned then that adults are not to be trusted. In first grade, Joshua got beat up on the bus-ride home, He wasn't bold enough or tough enough and became an easy target for the big kids, The bus driver watched in the rearview mirror emotionlessly, as Joshua covered his head. That day I learned that adults often don't care and rarely offer protection. In 11th grade, the principal suspended the smartest kid in school, Punishing him for using drugs was perhaps more important that providing him with support. That kid overdosed three years after high school and I wondered what might have been different if the adults in charge who entered his life, had cared more about healing and less about discipline. In 12th grade, a teacher was written up for failing a student for cheating, The school wanted more to protect the student's privilege and their school's reputation, Than to demonstrate the importance of honor and accountability. The student is running his family's company now, a heavy salary to show for that honest work. When I worked in juvenile detention they proudly demonstrated their JDAI program, Instituted by policymakers in DC to eliminate racial bias that so often plagues the court and jail, Which would have been a good tool if those using it could not override the scale, So that black youth made up only 60% of the city's population, but were 98% of youth detained. And when I moved into my first house, I bought it from a white couple with a four-year-old child. The schools in the county outperformed the city schools in grades and in safety, So then whose children should be obligated to attend a school that is unfit for anyone's child? So unfit that children skip school to avoid violence, but then end up in juvie because the scale is skewed. From the world of education to the systems of law, policy, healthy, and housing, Those in power continue to demonstrate corruption and injustice - Yield power to a world benefitting those children whose skin tones reflect that of 44 of the US presidents, So today I draft a eulogy to power, in hopes of destroying the powers that be and creating equality. World Peace, Avaeta A What does it mean, To want peace? Would they get it, If we were gone? If they looked around, And saw nothing but the same, Would that bring them peace? Would they stop killing? Would they stop invading? Isn't that what they had, Before exploring? Before Christopher "discovered" This "New" World, That already existed.
Form is controlling what we say through structure.
Line is simply a line of text Stanzas are groups of lines together Haiku 3 lines 5, 7, 5 1st 2 lines go together then we jump to the 3rd Sonnet - (love poems) First 8 lines that create a problem ; final 6 solve the problem or offer a response to the problem Pantoum - 4 line stanzas stanza 1 - lines 2 & 4 become lines 1&3 in stanza 2 Fixed Form - like a recipe for a poem Repetition creates mystery Poems from group: pantaotuomu!, Ellen Syllables, lines, and fixed form, Following the rules is hard to do, Isn't art supposed to allow for new norms? But sometimes you just want to be you. Syllables, lines, and fixed form, An adventure in writing and learning new things, Sometimes you just want to be you, Soon I fall into rhyming schemes and the art sings. An adventure in writing new things, A painting is worth 1000 words, Soon I fall into rhyming schemes and the art sings, So does a poem depict 1000 paintings? Pantoum rhymes with doom, A painting is worth 1000 words, My heart fills and makes room, So does a poem depict 1000 paintings? |
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