1st Quarter Poetry Journal Reflection

To A Daughter Leaving Home Response (9/15/15)
The safety of four wheels was hard to leave behind. The rusted red bike looked bigger now, without its support. It didn't stand up, but leaned against the ancient garage door, waiting to be played with, waiting to be circled around the block and beyond. Once the small girl jumped on the cracked leather seat and rode it by herself the first time, she knew she would fly. She mounted confidently, helmet gleaming in the afternoon sun. Her teeth, some missing, flashed as she smiled, twisting her hands on the handlebars, nervous. "I can do it," she said, more to herself than to anyone else before setting off down the driveway cautiously.
She went slowly until she got the rhythm and gained speed. The wind howled in her tiny yet pierced ears so she didn't hear her helmet clasp snap away. Nor did she hear her parents' cries to slow down, to stop! So it wasn't until the bike wobbled underneath her that she knew this was the end.
Her knee slammed into the gritty pavement first, the skin tearing like paper, red ink oozing out. Then her shoulder, a dull crack echoing through the air, her dark brown hair brushing the ground as she squeezed her eyes shut. Lastly, her head, the broken helmet rolling away towards the swaying green grass, doing her no good as the sickening sound of her skull crashing to the road the only sound anyone for miles away could hear.

I chose this piece because I really liked how confident the little girl was about riding her bike and how that was turned against her at the end. I liked how the bike and the garage were described as old in phrases like "the ancient garage door" and "cracked leather seat" while the girl was young and new, obvious because she had missing teeth, the way her ears were tiny (pierced at a young age) and this was her first time riding a bike without training wheels. What I also liked was the last paragraph and how she fell to the ground in slow motion. I added more about how the pavement looked, what she looked like and did while she fell and how the different parts of her body fell and what they sounded like as they hit.

Cherry Tomatoes Response (9/4/15)
Little boat, big sea. I say goodbye to my sister, a middle school student, and throw back a "Have a good day!" before getting in line to embark the yellow vehicle. I am not the least bit worried that she will get on her bus, ten minutes after me, safely. The sky is dark and stars litter the sky and all I can see of the bus is the red blinking lights, warning me that it is near. Even though my sister and I were the first to get to the corner, I end up being the last person to get on. I try to see if there are any empty seats anywhere, but there are none, only seats half full.
I go to the back, thinking that there would be seats there, but turns out that the opposite is true. The aisle is cramped and my backpack is bulging and heavier than usual. Jocks and jerks sit, laughing and cussing as I approach. No empty seats, only half empty.
Blushing in confusion, I mumble to someone, "I'm going to sit here," before sitting down. Almost instantly, I'm surrounded by that high school smell--body odor and too much perfume and I wrinkle my nose. Awkwardly, I maneuver my backpack from my shoulders with shaking hands to my lap.
The guy next to me is listening to music so loud that I can hear it bleeding through his headphones but not loud enough for me to catch what song it is. The boys behind me are laughing at and making fun of a classmate they know and I want to slap them in the face for the crude comments they're making.
When the bus pulls into the lot, I stand up, eager to get off.

This really happened to me: it was the first time I took the bus. The beginning sentence was a line taken from the poem and I think it described my situation perfectly, how I was a little boat, alone, about to get on the bus where everyone would know what they were doing. I added the small details where the readers would know I was a high school student ("I'm surrounded by that high school smell") and my sister was in middle school ("my sister, a middle school student") to clarify my experience. What I really liked about this piece was that it was a real event that happened to me (no matter how small) and that it actually sounded pretty decent when worded the way it did. I liked the way it sounded awkward and annoying and embarrassing, which is exactly how I'll remember it.