Sweet Loveby Isaiah Danner

To my Mother

Mom, it gives me great joy to present this project to you. You are the person who has helped me throughout my

entire school years and now I am about to move on in my life. But I will always appreciate everything you have done for me and will continue to do for me. You have taught me so many amazing things that I will never

forget. I love you, I hope you really enjoy this piece of work I did in honor of you.

Homeby Isaiah Danner

Where the green grass growsThere is more than three hundred foes

Fifty states in the world, and big cities in them allBut I ended up here, in New Tripoli, where all things but trucks are

smallI have lived here most of my life, and this is where most of my

memories areThis is where home will always be, under the North star

Love is always in the airEven if at most times, things here have not seemed fair

Three houses in life, but this will always be number oneuntil I am at my permanent home, high above the sun

I wouldn’t trade this home for a place in paradiseEven if it is infested with miceMy house is not made of stone

and does not have a golden thrownBut when I hear the ringing of the phone

It will be here, until I’m living with my spouse, at my own home

I wrote and chose my poem "Home" to share how the home I was raised impacted my life and will forever.  The home I currently live in will be where I come home at breaks of college and where I will always feel most comfortable.  I wrote you this poem to also to show you that you raised me in a good home, where I have always been provided with what I needed and always was given a roof over my head.  I appreciate my home a lot, I have been taught a lot in it and it was really where I earned all my high school grades.  This was my school and thanks to my your help in our home, I will make it somewhere in life. 

Nine Wordsby Isaiah Danner

Each blade of grass, has its own massAll different, because there are hundreds in a yard

The world today is life a thin piece of glassThe glass is bound to break under the weight of a truck,

that is like heavy lardLive your own life

Keep your very best memories in mindDon’t cut anything other than food with your knife

Be like a star, that you see with your eye, that is so kindTake a breath of fresh air, because all things are good

 My poem "Nine Words" was started by an assignment I had in creative writing.  The assignment was to choose nine words from a piece I wrote and use those words in nine lines to make a poem.  It was amazing to me how I could just use nine words to create a beautiful poem that is all influenced by you, Mom.  This was a different type of poem that I wrote, it was meant to be a positive and uplifting poem just like you are to me.  You always are positive and helpful and this poem was a testament to that.  I want you to know how much I look up to you for always having a positive outlook on things, and you are

the reason why I wrote this poem.

First Impression of Professor Greenby Isaiah Danner

First day of class, I met Professor GreenMy nerves have shot through the roof because this is something I’ve

never done beforebut I will not crumble like Charlie Sheen

Even though in this moment, I shake at the core

At first glance, my eyes felt bitterbecause he seemed so cocky and rude

but in time he proved to me, that he was as nice as sparkling glitterand as sweet has ice cream, which happened to be my favorite food

Sixteen weeks have pastso the first semester of the year is over

in the beginning I never thought I would lastbut now I feel like I could run a marathon to Dover

From the first impression on day one, to the last day todayI now realize, that Professor Green was a blessing to me beyond what

I did ever pray

"The First Impression of Professor Green." is not a poem I wrote and chose for this project at first, but I felt it really

fit in well.  After reading through this poem a couple times it really stuck out to me how this is a comforting poem for

you to read.  All my life you have been my teacher and professor but now that I am about to go off to college you won't be able to be right there with me.  So to have the

comfort of knowing I have a good professor was something I felt would really make my you feel good, and

that is why I ended up choosing to use this poem.  I appreciate your help through all my school years but now that I am moving on I don't want you to worry about me. 

I want you to know I have good people around me that are willing to help me like you have been, and this is why

I dedicate this poem to you.

Proud Of Meby Isaiah Danner

Three hundred sixty five days in a yearevery one of those days you’ve been there to cheer

I can count on you to be my biggest faneven if in my mind, I wasn’t the best of the clan

Your voice sticks out above everyone in the crowdI like to think it is because I make you proud

That is something I hope you’ll always beand that Mom, is being proud of me

"Proud of me" is the poems that means the most to me without a doubt.  The reason I say this is because there is one thing that is a goal in my life, and that is to make the people around me proud of what I do and who I am.  One of the people is you, my Mom; you are one of the people around me who I want to make proud more than anything.  I want you to be proud of me for where I have come to this point in my life and where I am about to go in my future.  I have worked hard to make you proud and I will continue to do that.  This is a poem I dedicate to you with great joy, and I pray that if I don't do anything right, I at least make you proud.

Thanks Momby Isaiah Danner

From the first day out of the wombto today

Life raising me, at times, has been gloom so I thank you for never giving up on me in any point of

dismay

I could not ask for a better Mother in my lifeBecause of you and Dad I feel I turned out pretty well

I pray I marry someone like you, because she would be a great wife

I may not have that though, unless I learn how to spell

I love you MomThank you for everything

you will always be great to me, you are the bombeven when you give the bucket a ping

The motive behind my poem "Thanks Mom" kind of speaks for itself.  I wanted a poem to strictly just thank you for all you do and show you how much I really appreciate it all.  I did not want this poem to get to serious so I added humor to it.  I don't want this poem to just touch your heart and help you realize how much you are appreciated by me but I also want it to make you smile and laugh.  You always have things to say that make me smile and laugh, even if when may not necessarily mean it. So I hope you enjoy “Thanks Mom”. 

Life on my ownby Isaiah Danner

Living at homeWhat a blessed time it is to me

It opens my eyes and allows me to seeAnd it gives me time to roam

I learn so much, my brain looks like shiny chromeI will one day be set free

Into the world, that is 75% water from the clear blue seaBeing at home will always make my stomach feel like lite foam

My shoes are tied and I’ve hit the roadI know this is when I make decisions on my own

Driving down the interstate I play music at a soothing toneThe pressure is such a load

My emotions feel like emotions of a stoneBecause from this day on, I feel like I will be alone

My poem "Life on My Own" is one of my favorite poems I wrote.  This poem is dedicated to you because it tells you how much you have blessed me in my time at home.  Because of your great help in my schooling at home I am ready to move on to the next chapter of my life and this is why I dedicate this poem to you.  You have been a great influence in my life at home and now that I am going to graduate I need to start living on my own, and that is what this poem displays.  You, my Mom, have guided me to this point and because of you I am ready to go and share what you have blessed me with to the world.

“A child said, What is the grass?” By Walt Whitman

A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with fullhands;

How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what itis any more than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopefulgreen stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropped,

Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that wemay see and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child. . . .the produced babeof the vegetation

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow

zones,Growing among black folks as among white,

Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them thesame, I receive them the same

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.tenderly will I use you curling grass,

It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,It may be if I had known them I would have loved them;It may be you are from old people and from women, and

from offspring taken soon out of their mother's laps,And here you are the mother's laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of oldmothers,

Darker than the colorless beards of old men,Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues!And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths

for nothing.I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men

and women,And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring

taken soon out of their laps.What do you think has become of the young and old men?

What do you think has become of the women andchildren?

They are alive and well somewhere;The smallest sprouts show there is really no death,

And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not waitat the end to arrest it,

And ceased the moment life appeared.All goes onward and outward. . . .and nothing collapses,And to die is different from what any one supposed, and

luckier.

“A child said, What is the grass?”This poem is one that is not exactly easy to understand or follow, but it does have great meaning. “How does this have to do with me?” you may ask yourself after reading this poem, but the reason I chose this was because of the two images it set in my head. These images are just two examples

of what great things you have provided for me.

The first image that came to my mind after reading this was the joy playing outside gave me as a young child, and still does in fact. Even if I came inside dirty every single day, you would always

allow me to go out and play in the grass. Secondly, I get to image of a beautiful garden, the garden of offspring and rising of many plants. These were not any normal plants, but plants of me and my siblings. How you have raised them up just like a thick green grass yard, beautifully cut with a smell of happiness and peace. You have given that to me and all of your children, I can

speak for us all and say you have raised us well, just like a fertilized great yard. You could have let each of us be bitter and brown like dead grass, but instead you gave us all we needed and had us

shinning like the most lively grass yard.

Thank you for grooming me like a perfect grass yard, I never deserved it but you gave me that. I am so thankful for you and how you raised me into a good young man. That is something really

important because that is a quality that I will need the rest of my life. You have taught me how to raise my own children when they come, without even knowing you have done that for me. I will give them what you gave me, which is a happiness that can be found no other place but from

loving parents and an amazing Mom.

“A boy Juggling A Soccer Ball”by Christopher Merrill

after practice: right footto left foot, stepping forward and back,

to right foot and left foot,and left foot up to his thigh, holding

it on his thigh as he twistsaround in a circle, until it rolls down the inside of his leg,

like a tickle of sweat, not catching and tapping on the soft

side of his foot, and juggling once, twice, three times,

hopping on one foot like a jump-roper in the gym, now trapping

and holding the ball in midair, balancing it on the instep

of his weak left foot, stepping forward and forward and back, then

lifting it overhead until it hangs there; and squaring off his body,

he keeps the ball aloft with a nudge of his neck, heading it

from side to side, softer and softer,

like a dying refrain,until the ball, slowing, balances

itself on his hairline,the hot sun and sweat filling his eyes

as he jiggles this wayand that, then flicking it up gently,

hunching his shouldersand tilting his head back, he traps it

in the hollow of his neck,and bending at the waist, sees his shadow,

his dangling T-shirt, the bentblades of brown grass in summer heat;

and relaxing, the ball slippingdown his back. . .and missing his foot.

  He wheels around, he marches over the ball, as if it were a rock he stumbled into, and pressing

his left foot against it, he pushes it against the inside of his right

until it pops into the air, is heeled over his head--the rainbow!--

and settles on his extended thigh before rolling over his knee and down his shin, so he can juggle it again from his left foot to his right foot

--and right foot to left foot to thigh-- as he wanders, on the last day

of summer, around the empty field.

A Boy Juggling a Soccer BallMom, when I read this poem it set an instant image in my head. The image of me juggling a soccer ball in our yard when I was younger. I would mess up more times than not but I would always keep going. I chose this poem because it has a lot of similar qualities as my life as your son. Soccer is and was always something I did in my life and it has always been something you supported me

doing.

This poem has a great amount of repetition in it, “left foot to right foot to left foot” and that is what it soccer really is. A lot of repetition in order to learn and get better at that game, but the

repetition in this poem does not just bring to mind soccer training. It makes me think of you, and how the repletion of taking me to training, games, or to the hospital after injuries. That was something you never had to do but you chose to because it was what I wanted to do and you

wanted me happy. This is why I chose this poem and even though it out front does not seem like something that could compare to you, it really is. It sets the picture of my life with soccer and you

as my great Mother.

Thank you for all you do for me when it comes to anything in life, but right now, when it comes to soccer. If it was not for your willingness to support me and take me places, I would not be where I am today. I appreciated it all and I will every day. You are always going to be one of my biggest fans in my eyes because of your constant repetition when it comes to making me happy. You are

the best Mom, and I could never thank you enough for your constant love.

“Lullaby in Blue”by Betsy Sholl

The child takes her first journeythrough the inner blue world of her mother's body,

blue veins, blue eyes, frail petal lids. 

Beyond that unborn brackish world so deepit will be felt forever as longing, a dream

of blue notes plucked from memory's guitar, 

the wind blows indigo shadows under streetlights,clouds crowd the moon and bear down on the limbs

of a blue spruce. The child's head appears— 

midnight pond, weedy and glistening—draws back, reluctant to leave that first home.

Blue catch in the mother's throat, 

ferocious bruise of a growl, and out slidesthe iridescent body—fish-slippery

in his father's hands, plucked from water 

into such thin densities of air,his arms and tiny hands stutter and flail, till he places him on her mother's body,

  then cuts the smoky cord, releasing him

into this world, its cold harbor below where a blue caul of shrink-wrap covers

 

each boat gestating on the winter shore.Child, the world comes in twos, above and below, visible and unseen. Inside your mother's croon

  there's the hum of an old man tapping his footon a porch floor, his instrument made from one

string nailed to a wall, as if anything 

can be turned into song, always what isand what is longed for. Against the window

the electric blue of cop lights signals 

somebody's bad news, and a lone man walksthrough the street, his guitar sealed in dark plush.

Child, from this world now you will draw your breath 

and let out your moth flutter of blue sighs.Now your mother will listen for each one,

alert enough to hear snow starting to flake 

from the sky, bay water beginning to freeze.Sleep now, little shadow, as your first world

still flickers across your face, that other side 

where all was given and nothing desired.Soon enough you'll want milk, want faces, hands,

heartbeats and voices singing in your ear. 

Soon the world will amaze you, and youwill give back its bird-warble, its dove call,

singing that blue note which deepens the song, 

that longing for what no one can recall,your small night cry roused from the wholeness

you carry into this broken world.

Lullaby in BlueThe poem “Lullaby in Blue” is a really nice piece of work in my mind. There are so many images that come to mind as you read through it and understand what is taking place. You gave birth to me eighteen years ago, and just like any other great Mother, you still remember the day and how everything happened. It was not exactly a fast labor, I know that, but hey, when have I ever made

life easy for you, right?

In all seriousness, for you to be able to go through such a hard labor and never regret it or wish it didn’t happen, means a lot to me. I know in my younger days I was not the healthiest young man, but you and Dad were right there the entire time with me. This poem has so many great images, like the cutting of the umbilical cord, to having the Father place the child on the Mothers chest. It makes me wonder how that all went down when I was born. This poem also talks about bringing a child into the broken world and the amazement the child will get from it every day. It is no doubt that we live in a broken world, but I can honestly say, that because of you Mom, this world has

treated me well. I have learned how to handle things from the time I was younger till this very day, and that is all from you and Dad.

Because of that, this world has been amazement to me. I am so happy where life has taken our family and I, we never have a dull moment, but that’s just how the Danner’s are. I appreciate how you have raised me since the day I was born and every single day to follow. This world and life has

been a lullaby in blue, thanks to you.

“A Birthday”by Christina Rossetti

My heart is like a singing bird Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;

My heart is like an apple-tree Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;

My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea;

My heart is gladder than all these, Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a daïs of silk and down; Hang it with vair and purple dyes;

Carve it in doves and pomegranates, And peacocks with a hundred eyes;

Work it in gold and silver grapes, In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;

Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me.

A BirthdayMom, the poem “A Birthday” I picked because you have been there every on one of my birthdays.

You have always done your very best to make my birthday the best it could be. From the when I first turned one to my last birthday of becoming an adult at the age of eighteen. I will always

remember my birthday because of you never being able to find the right amount of candles; that just makes me smile to think about it.

This poem talks about being over joyed when hearing people sing “happy birthday” to them, and it sounding like the beautiful sound of birds chirping. You always made sure we have at least family over to spend time with me and sing to me on my special day. Family will always come first to me, and that is why having them over always meant more than having a friend over. This poem also

talks about the pleasure of receiving the perfect gifts that we all ask for on our birthdays. We always know the gift from our parents is going to be the best gift, and we never want to wait to

open that big behemoth of a gift. Now that I am older I never want anything but family time and a nice get together to relax and just shoot the breeze. The reason for this is because you have

already given me the greatest gift of all, and that is your love.

Thank you so much for all the wonderful gifts you have given me in the past. And thank you for all the blessed parties you have thrown for me in order to make my day the best it could be. Now that I am older all I want is your love and physical presents. Because ultimately, you are the best gift I

could ever want or need.

“South”by Jack Gilbert

In the small towns along the rivernothing happens day after long day.

Summer weeks stalled forever,and long marriages always the same.Lives with only emergencies, births,

and fishing for excitement. Then a shipcomes out of the mist. Or comes around

the bend carefully one morningin the rain, past the pines and shrubs.

Arrives on a hot fragrant night,grandly, all lit up. Gone two days

later, leaving fury in its wake.

SouthThe poem “South” is very different from all the others. It is the shortest poem I picked for you in

this project, but by reading through it many times, it really has a great deal of meaning. This meaning really relates to you and our family, we are always on the go, always getting hurt, I have four great siblings, so there has been birth, and we all love to fish. As you can see, just by pulling

those couple of things out of the poem, it puts our family in to perspective pretty well.

This is the Danner’s, simple as that. You and Dad blessed our family with three outgoing boys who are always doing things to get hurt, and one beautiful girl, who gets hurt also. And we can all day

that whenever we would come to you with a cut or a bump you would help us wrap it up and get us on our way again. I love all of my siblings that you brought into my life; I would not trade them for anything in the world. Without them we would just not be the Danner’s. We all love the outdoors

and getting our fingers dirty and fishing is something that does that very well. It is relaxing, well at least for most of us, and it is a joy to our whole family when anyone catches a fish. It is the Danner way to always be going, it is what we do. It is all a great blessing though and in the end when we

finally end up at home together, we are one big happy family who enjoys each other’s time together.

You and Dad have made this family wonderful, even though I am going off to start my life on my own soon, this will always be my great family. Nothing with change that and nothing will change the love I have for you all. Thank you for always giving us the best Mom, and always putting up

with the things we all do. I love you. 

Work Cited PagePoems used in presentation:

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15816http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15951http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/20586http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19440http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/22167