Drip: A Poem Analysis

Richard Blanco is a Cuban- American poet who was given the oppurunity to write an inaugaration poem for Barack Obama's second swearing-in. He wrote a poem titled "One Today" that praised the good and unique things about the United States and also the everyday people who's daily routines help to make America the proud country that it is.

The drugs started to take effect in the worst possible moment. My knees bunched over with every step I took, and no matter how many times I gasped for air I couldn't breath. It was useless, it felt like I was running under water. My heart was pounding in my throat, threatening to breakout of its cage and leave my mouth in the form of bile. It wasn't raining, but my cheeks were damp. Just like a river the tears flowed down my face and blurred my vision.

“I had to do some finagling to get the approval to see you,” Dr. Wilkinson said. “But I managed. I had your nurse draw blood and I ordered some blood tests. Your blood tests revealed some striking results. The reason you are so tired is because you lost over half of the blood in your body. It’s a miracle you didn’t die. And the reason you probably didn’t die is because you lost the blood very, very slowly. For your extensive blood loss, I can give you a blood transfusion, and you’ll feel better almost instantly. Or I can have you take iron pills. But with iron pills it take a few months for you iron level to get back to normal, and for you to feel better. So which would you prefer?”

Chomp, Chomp, Chomp, Please close your mouth. The noises you make are annoying. Like styrofoam rubbing together and squeeeaking over and over.

I immediately shoot the camera’s in the corners with the pistol, and run to the huge oak desk. I throw open the drawers, and rip through the contents: paper, candy, documents. No serum. I scan the room hastily, my eyes landing on a set of heavy oak doors. That's got to be where the serum is; it's the only other closed place in the room. I yank the handles, but they're locked. I hear heavy, loud, fast footsteps running down the hallway. My heart begins to race like a hamster on a wheel, my confidence wavers, and I want to vomit. Rosemary, be brave, the world is depending on you, I tell my self. I shake my head, and swallow, pulling out the tranquilizer gun. I'd prefer to knock the guards out for a good twenty-four hours than to kill them.

In this album, the artists have a negative view on their past and the suburbs. In the suburbs they felt trapped and wanted out, they were aching for any taste of freedom they could get. They wanted to be able to be independent and make their own choices rather than being tied down by their guardian’s leash. They wanted to leave their time in childhood but are now nostalgic for the time, realizing that it didn’t get any better as they matured and got older. They sing about both the present and the past, comparing the two, wishing they were young again.

I chose jingle, acronym, and pegging as my three memory techniques. Using a jingle is creating a catchy song or sentence that will help you remember important info, such as for me I used a few jingles to help me with me some very important vocabulary words, I created it to help me with the spelling, and to also remember the meaning. The second one that I picked was an acronym. Using an acronym is creating words to help memorize a list. I wanted to memorize the names of Jesus’s twelve disciples’, so I took the first letter of each of their names and then created a sentence with each letter. The third one that I tried was pegging. Pegging is when you hook to hang a number. The way that I used pegging was to try to remember my instructors phone number, and the other phone numbers of all the important people that are here for me during my time hear at Argosy University. I created a silly song such as the kids’ song B-I-N-G-0, and sang the number to the tune, and I also created a silly sentence to match the numbers of others.

This time, I packed a bag for my dad, too. If my brother was transferred, he was going to go with them. I wiped my eyes and tried to hide my red eyes, then I headed to the hospital. Once there, my mom told me that they had decided to keep Keath for one more night, just to try one more drug. My dad and mom had tense expressions, and my brother’s eyes were red with tears. I chatted with my brother, then left to go pick up my siblings. It was my job to break the news to my siblings. The house was silent that night, and they didn’t fight before they left for

I destroy homes and tear families apart, I take your children and that’s just the start.

Swimming against the tide, further from her pod now alone without family or friends. Diving in and out of waves as they splash against other waves. Moving faster and further from shore, before dipping under and found herself in the middle of a sea turtle clan. Nearly a million of them and she wondered how they stayed together so easily. the turtles swam slow yet graceful like a dance.

I was in this state when I got to the kitchen. The crying was louder, so I knew I was in the right place. I unblurred my eyes a little and saw little white dots all over the counter and in the sink. Focus, focus. They were pills. Prescription medication from my father 's back surgery and some others I didn 't recognize. She was on the floor, in a heap, her obese limbs tangled in themselves, helpless. The phone was off the hook.

The huge clouds passed over the sun creating a dull depressing mood that was only made worse by the almost sickening dark maroon interior of the van. As the van continued to glide down the street, my parents began talking about the events of that day. They discussed much information as we drove, but many insignificant topics began to cause my dad to become angry and upset, as he was experiencing extreme anxiety and stress due to our financial situation added onto many other issues at the time. All I remember was the yelling as my dad argued over little, insignificant things that were absolutely irrational. This was the moment I truly realised the that drugs, which were supposed to help my dad’s depression, were causing severe issues that at some times seemed to outweigh the benefits. The antidepressant my dad was taking, had many side effects that can affect the user’s judgement and even create anxiety problems, which is what happened to my dad. Antidepressant drugs can help some people, but not all because of the serious side-effects this type of medication can cause. If medications aren’t the answer, perhaps therapy and counselling could be a better solution.

As we walked towards the entrance, my anxiety and nerves grow stronger than ever. within our path we witnessed a group of people treating their marijuana for goods and a man following closely behind us until we reach the door. As we entered the building we saw three people that were obviously under the influence of some very heavy drugs, as they were talking to themselves and shaking beyond control. in all honesty, I felt scared and had reoccurring feelings of leaving before I even got up the stairs. as we climb the stairs we noticed posters, A room offering counseling and advertisements for Care Clinic. as Cassie Allison and I reached the cafeteria line I begin to feel a small amount of relief. I had figured the hard

The 1915 poetry collection, Spoon River Anthology, by Edgar Lee Masters, offers a portrait of daily life in a fictional Illinois town, Spoon River. As is evident from the poems Spoon River was an economic “boom town” which profited greatly from its proximity to rail roads and a major waterway. Regardless of its prosperity, Spoon River seems to have remained a demographically small town, and the neighbors all knew each other very well, and a clear social hierarchy formed. One of the more interesting aspects of the Spoon River Anthology is that the poems contained therein are a series of grave epitaphs that tell a story about each deceased resident. Often, graveyards themselves can serve as reminders of social hierarchies in the world of the living. Typically, only those decedents who had family members and a community who cared for them would be laid to rest in the community grave; the potter’s field and the crematorium awaited those who passed away without family, in debt, or with a criminal record. Thus, the initial assessment of the deceased within the Spoon River graveyard would be that they were

As soon as she got into the car I sped off towards the emergency room. When we had gotten there I rushed in and hit the button for help. All I could hear was her cries and a few i 'm sorrys here and there. I started to walk her inside as I saw a nurse heading my way with a wheelchair. I Helped her sit down and handed her the pill bottle. “She overdosed on these.” I stuttered out most of the words. She didn 't say anything just took her to a hospital room.