Synopsis Of A Poem ' One Voicemail ' Essay

Just as poetry is a permanent mark of feelings that last forever on paper, tattoos are permanent symbols that last forever on the skin. Tattoos and poetry can easily be combined such as in Kim Addonizio’s sonnet, “First Poem for You,” the speaker admires her partner’s nature themed tattoos in a darkened room. This may seem to be a simple poem, but by utilizing tattoos as symbols, including tactile and visual imagery in her poem, and using the sonnet as her structure, Addonizio laments about the true meaning of relationships and their longevity.

Stepping out of the car I analyzed the environment around me. A gust of fresh air flowed swiftly through my hair and caressed my face. The temperature outside was mildly warm and humid. Rays of sunshine blazed down upon me and begun to heat up my black t-shirt. The black and rough asphalt crumbled beneath my feet as I walked. I could tell that it was recently paved because of how smooth it was when I slid my shoe across it. Sweat collected on both of my palms because of the anxiety I gathered prior to my visit. Everything on my body seemed heavier at the time. The necklace dangling around my neck. My phone and wallet that rested in my pockets. It was the result of all of the built up tension within me. I had no idea what to expect.

I hold the paper in my hands. It’s crumpling under my grip, but in it I get to live in the footsteps of others. My old dress is wrinkled and torn much like the paper, but I can’t spare the money on a new one. As much as I try to focus on the crinkled piece of paper with scrawly handwriting, I can’t. I just can’t. Tears run down my face and I wipe them away. It has been awhile since I have cried, so long in fact that I was afraid that there was something wrong with me. I push myself up from the old oak I sit at the base of. There’s no use in dwelling in what I can’t change. I fold the paper back in my dress pocket and walk into the field. I used to think there was beauty in the way that the grass grows in the street; standing low next to the

The lake darkens as the ominous clouds race across the sky, as black as the devil’s soul, and swallows the bliss-blue complexion of the sky faster than you can blink. The world has abruptly become cellar-dark and the heavens above look to collapse down upon me. A deafening wind runs over the landscape like a thousand horses, the noise of the raindrops their clattering hoofs. The threatening force of the gales knocks and blows the trees in precarious ways, almost as though, if it had wanted to, the wind could blow them away as if they were but feathers, not heavy pines. Lighting lights up the sky like liquid, golden ore streaks being forged into forks up above. Wriggling and writhing with the pain of their own existence. Flashing once, twice, three times, polished and glossy like the cold prongs of the apocalypse. Shaking myself from my weather-caused trance, I hurry for shelter under a nearby fern tree. Staring deep into the blackness of the storm I wonder whether I will ever see that bliss-blue appearance

Raindrops ran down the window pane, creating streaks of water on the glass. A lightning bolt struck lazily, and a quiet roll of thunder followed. Fragile clouds let loose a few rays of sun, illuminating small parts of the city. The woman lounging in the window seat languidly drew a few finishing strokes on a piece of paper, then set the sketch aside, allowing her eyes to roam to the outside. She rubbed them gently, blinking out the dreariness that came with stormy days. No balloons today, she thought with disappointment. They were beautiful with their bright colors and elaborate designs.

Crumpled newspapers scattered the table like the bones of dead bodies after war. Windows wiped down of memories huddled between oak frames, facing a street with cosy cottages. Single embroidered carpets hugged the floor, covering the marble tiles in delicate silk. A whisper of wind floated in through cracks of the panes of glass, whispering it's songs of misery throughout the house. I breathed in gulps of air, allowing the icy coolness to fill my lungs, and the morning frost creep out. My glistening blue eyes presented purple bags, and my sleek hair was a tangled cobweb. My feet dragged along the stone floor like the walking of the undead. I’d been up all night, searching and seeking for answers.

For once, she wandered toward him with no children in tow. Today, she wore no linen coif, and her elbow-length, blond hair hung down loose. Percival had not realized how thick and glossy it was. And instead of wearing her typical nanny uniform of a stiff beige tunic dress, she wore a pale blue dress, more fitted at the top, and cinched at the waist with dark leather girdle belt. The belt accentuated the curve of her hips, and he color of her dress brought out the light honey color in her eyes. She was even more beautiful than he recalled, and in that instant, her presence was the balm he needed to soothe his agitated soul. He realized that he’d had but one brief interaction with her earlier in the day, yet her presence was exactly what he needed.

Kent does not respond. The brisk air makes him shiver. The once treasured scent of damp leaves now makes his stomach turn. Around him, everything seems sharper, more daunting. Shadows darken. Leaves suspiciously shift. The breeze hisses like a snake. A rope of emotion snares Kent’s chest. Gasping for air, he curls up further, shutting his eyes.

The sun broke through the grey and breathed life into the awakening city. The woman’s eyes though opened, were empty and moved accordingly to the flock of doves that soared through the chilled air. She gazed at the beautifully choreographed dance above where delicate wings formed prominent silhouettes against the comforting rays. The ancient apple tree which only last month was a mess of unruly twigs and withered leaves had now flourish into a bounty of lively red apples that heralded the Springtime. The richness of the sanctuary generated distant and painful memories in her head like the scenes of a tragic movie. She could still picture the remorseful look in the man’s eyes during his last breath. Her father, a man of ambitions and responsibilities, was not the father to throw her into the sky and tell her how much he loved

Chalk flying on our bruised shins and flip flop tanned, callused feet, as the ball kept bouncing. Up and up and up we go, passing houses one at a time. The ground scorching our unclipped toes as we race the cars up the street to the shaded part of the sidewalk. Pausing, only to catch our breath we wasted on hill sprints up to cooler ground, until we realize what we're stepping on. Sap as sticky as gum that has been sitting out in the sun all day, slowly dripping from the Pine tree hanging above us as if it knew the pain we were in. Out of the shade we went, dreading what lies ahead all thinking about the logic behind not wearing shoes. Finally turned the corner that led to the shaded cul de sac when he ran into her. She was not one of those ordinary neighbors. No smile rest upon this gut wrenching face that I remember from my

Anna walked into the church. Her dark brown hair fell down her back in soft waves reaching her waist and she wore light, beige tones on her already pale face; the only eye makeup she wore was some mascara around her hazel eyes. She wore black flats, black slacks, and a red blouse, Melody would have wanted that. She always talked about death so lightly and always said that she didn’t want people to wear all black to her funeral because black was depressing.

I stared out the window, squinting as the rays of sun hit everything in their reach, burning into my eyes. I usually enjoyed the soothing warmth that the sun's rays emitted, but today was different. Today, my mom was driving me to high school...Johnson High School, for my first day as a freshmen. At the corner of my eyes, I saw a bruised, grayish-looking cloud, even the sun’s radiant light couldn't reach it. I couldn't help but think how me and that worn out cloud were so similar; dull and lonely. Geez, I definitely was going to be lonely. As we neared the school, I could feel my mom's eyes imprint into me as she stared at me. "Sahar", her voice spelled out concern. I knew she just wanted me to say that I was happy and excited, but she knew

We were all scared, but I couldn't let expulsion get in my way of having the perfect summer That was the morning I noticed Rayjean absent . As we were going to breakfast I noticed a long line leading to Denaples. The sun shined bright that day, the light trying it's best to penetrate the thickness of the fog, but as hard as it tried the light just couldn’t. The red flowers shined bright thought the fog it was truly beautiful, the flower was as red as blood. Though hard to see, Dionne Green had shiny green grass neatly trimmed to the millimeter everything was great except the humidity. I looked under me, I was stepping on waxed tile stones, they looked perfect. Sebastian stared at me with a grin on his face, he motioned me to the large statue, of the man holding the cross. On his knees. I didn't know what he was thinking, then he said, " Time to climb." I immediately without hesitation agreed I gave

I remember the day just like it was yesterday, the pale color and coldness of her skin. The sky was clear blue, soft, with a touch of red, and the trees seemed stiff in their bright green shade. The wind was blowing with its humid dry air. And All I could do was stand silently in disbelief, caught up in my own thoughts and calm as I ever been. Wondering what I could have done differently to change the course of time, life had taken us upon. Since that very day a chunk of my heart was ripped away, and broken into pieces… “Oh how I miss her so much.”

My day begins again with a drone of the same ringtone of the alarm. Getting up to open the window forgetting about the same old raven bird that stares at me with its whole black eyes sending you into a black spiral. The sense of nostalgia hits, rain leaves its own scent like the scent of an ex-lover’s. After all eternity doesn’t wait for the past to catch up, you just keep on going with your life as I have. Making my way to the kitchen I avoid all the papers on the floor scattered like a tornado threw up and shredded its life. My hands twitches to grab the phone eager to check for the ghost messages and calls. Putting down my arm as soons as it raises “don’t do it”. I turn in circles to find someone but in its leave was nothing. “ I know” I whispered to no one. The hallway was filled with darkness except for one room whose light was slowly dimming. Darting past the shadowed hands reaching for me I went into the room. Searching for that dark grey raincoat that was hung up on a hanger in the half empty closet.