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Simran's Poetry Portfolio

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S: Poetry Portfolio

FC: Simran's Poetry Portfolio | 03-27-2012 1st Block

1: TABLE OF CONTENTS | LANGUAGE ARTS POEM.....PAGE 2-3 WHERE I'M FROM.....PAGE 4-5 SELF-RESPECT POEM.....PAGE 6-7 MY MOTHER'S KITCHEN.....PAGE 8-9

2: LANGUAGE ARTS POEM

3: L iterature A rtistic N oun G rammar U sage A djectives G enre E xclamatory | A ction verb R un-on T opic S entences

4: WHERE I'M FROM

5: I am from Barbies, from hair gel and mousse. I am from the big pink house toward the end of the cul-de-sac I am from the dandelions, the evergreens I am from cooking and shortness, from Sofia and Rahim I am from the smarty-pants and the business men. From chin up and hands uncrossed. I am from god’s words, from following him to making my own way. I'm from Sherman, Texas and Malaysia , coffee and baked beans. From the crying at weddings, just my sister and me, the reading of book until it was too late to see, and the climbing of Stone Mountain with my new baby cousin to be. I am from the box of old pictures, lying under my bed, from the case of trophies standing proudly in the door way, showing all that I have accomplished and reminding me of all I can be.

6: Sometimes I eat, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I sleep, sometimes I won’t. Depend on how it all goes; I might even get new clothes. It really just depends on the time and the moment. I’m not your average girl And I ain’t obsessed with new floral But I learned that I am what I am Because you can’t change that I’m not your average girl My worth is not determined by how my hair will curl No matter what you say I will always be me

7: SELF-RESPECT POEM

8: The smell of fresh baked cookies Reaches all the way up to my room Even sitting on my bed, watching TV I could smell the sugar coming out of the oven Walking down to see if they were ready Entering my mother's kitchen The white tiled walls so blank The leaves on top of the cabinets, striking There was something about the way my sister and mother would get up in the morning just To make me cookies each and every April 17th It was the way they stood there Waiting to give me my birthday “surprise” At this point every year I think back to all the good times I had standing in that very spot From the process of making ramen noodles after school To lying on the floor Waiting for my mom to make me dinner I thought to all the times I would wake up in the morning To see her standing there Hair tied up Making pancakes I think back to the time The three of us Standing there over my dead goldfish | MY MOTHER'S

9: 'S KITCHEN

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Simran Khoja
  • By: Simran K.
  • Joined: over 4 years ago
  • Published Mixbooks: 1
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About This Mixbook

  • Title: Simran's Poetry Portfolio
  • Tags: None
  • Published: over 4 years ago

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