Deep in the expanse of the hot African desert,

The sun beats down on the cracked ground.

And the fur on the back of the fierce lion

Sweats with the midday sun.

He has taken a firm stance before me

To show his dominance.

I take a step forward into his territory

Challenging his gaze with my own deep stare.

He questions my motive with a slight tilt of his head

And I react.

I raise my knife and trace his head from where I am.

There is no fear like my own.

I know the risk,

I have lived in this desert long enough to know the danger.

But I have no choice, this lion killed the one I love.

And has sparked a fire in me

That will not be put out.

I need to make my move,

For he is approaching me now,

And the look in his eyes warns me that he won't stop

Until he gets his fill of human flesh from my bones.

Purposefully I drive

The sharp edge of my knife into the heart of the lion 

And it is even. 

I agree with Dana Gioia, poetry is losing its significance in everyday life. In my own life, I have observed that poetry is similar to reading books in that only people that enjoy reading them will do it. Many people cannot get into reading or poetry, and will not go out of their way to read it. I enjoy reading, but only if it something that truly grabs my attention. It is the same with poetry. I often can’t follow through with reading something unless it is interesting to me. So, I think the best way to get people to read poetry is to make it appealing to them. This is the hard part because everyone has such different taste. However, that is also the beauty of poetry. It differs so greatly from poet to poet so it is able to capture a wide variety of audiences. Dana Gioia explains some ways to make poetry a part of American public culture. First she says that when poets give public readings they should spend time reciting other people’s work. She claims this will bring admiration to poetry in general and not just the specific poet. I also believe this may help to bring more attention to poetry as a whole. Gioia also says that public readings of poetry should include forms of art beyond poetry such as music. This will get people with interest in other forms of art to come to the reading and they may become interested in poetry through the event. Overall, I believe poetry is a dying art, but if poets can find a way to bring more public awareness to poetry then they may be able to bring poetry back into the American public.  

Me: Hi mom sorry I missed your call. (iambic tetrameter)
Mom: Sure you are (sarcasm). I bet you were busy with Jack. (iambic tetrameter)
Me: No, I was actually getting ready for work. (iambic pentameter)
Mom: Ok. Well I was wondering if you were coming up this weekend. (iambic heptameter)
Me: I'm not sure yet. I need to find out my work schedule. (iambic tetrameter)
Mom: Ok. How is school going by the way? (iambic tetrameter)
Me: It's going good. I got an A on my patho exam Thursday. (hexameter)
Mom: Sweet. Only an A huh? (iambic dimeter)
Me: Ha ha, sorry to disappoint you. (iambic trimeter)
Mom: I am kidding, that is awesome. (iambic tetrameter)
Me: Thanks. Well, I gotta go or I'll be late for work. (iambic pentameter)
Mom: Ok, call me when you get home. (iambic trimeter)
Me: I will, I love you mom. (iambic trimeter)
Mom: Love you too. I will talk to you later. (iambic trimeter)

Most of the conversation was iambic, but the type of meter varied greatly.

A Girl Sold into Sex Trafficking 

The despondency showing on the small girl's face

A tear falling from God's eye

I didn’t know what to do when they came

I could see the hesitation in their eyes

Before they spoke I knew of his demise

They didn’t even have to say a name

I never expected it to happen so soon

The fear that crept up in me was real

Why did this happen it wasn’t the deal

We had only just gotten married in June

I don’t know what I am to do with my life

This man was meant to be here next to me

The future looks so grim from where I stand

What will happen to all that we had planned

I will no longer be loved as his wife

For my days to end quickly is now my plea

What a day to be watching the sunset!

Sitting on a tree stump in the woods,

Overlooking the torrent of water in the river.

Embers drifting away from the campfire.

Gathered around with all of my family,

We enjoy ourselves beneath the sky.

A bird is seen soaring through the sky

As we gaze upon the red sunset.

No one else, just me and my family.

Away from city life as we gather in the woods

Sitting by the warmth-giving campfire.

Still, the tickling of water is heard from the river.

The fish jump restlessly from the river

While hawks circle around in the sky.

Marshmallows brown in the heat of the campfire-

The only light source besides the sunset.

Sweet is the stillness of the woods

Filled with nature and my glowing family.

How great it is spending time with my family,

Camping next to the majestic river.

A lot is to be said about the serenity of the woods-

Connected to the world by the over-looming sky,

And the predictableness of the sunset.

Ending the day huddled around the campfire.

Sharing stories by the campfire-

Exchanging memories about our family.

I have never seen such a beautiful sunset-

Making its decent over the river

With distorted images of the above sky.

All surrounded by the vastness of the woods.

Animal echoes travel through the deep woods

And are heard by us gathered around the campfire.

Bats scurry for food up high in the sky.

While from below, stories continue about family.

The cool air drifts from the waters of the river

And hits us as we admire the sunset

My favorite things- the woods and my family,

Circled around the campfire nearby the flowing river.

Overshadowed by the sky and the closing sunset

Ode to the 0.5mm mechanical pencil

By Megan Larson

An instrument of power,

None can fully see.

With the potential to

Sculpt paper into works of art,

Or to pen volumes of

Miraculous works whose

Words strike passion in

The unwavering eyes.

Delicate to the touch,

Much like a gentle hand-

Gliding across the page

With grace and ease.

A line of beauty, neither

Thick or thin but

Of the upmost quality

Of both vision and

Precision.

Number 2 you may be,

No one knows for sure,

But surely you will

Fill my test with the proper

Lead. And if I shall

Run out there will be

No speck of worry

Because by the simple

Press of a finger,

Out the lead will come

And we will write once again.