S: Rashmi's Poetry Portfolio
BC: :) - Rashmi R.
FC: Rashmi Rajendran 10/22/10 Glenn-2 | Rashmi's | Portfolio
1: Table of contents Where I am From. 2&3 Self-Respect 4&5 My Mother's Kitchen 6&7 GSMST 8&9 | 1
2: India | 2
3: Soy de... I am From .... I am from scorching sun, from dust and India. I'm from India, naan and butter chicken. I am from Spices and curry, which make up the fiery part of me. I am from the loving and altruistic. The sweet part of me. From the Taj Mahal of India to the Peach of the United States. I am from nostalgia that surrounds me as I vacate my home. My home that has been deeply rooted. Invisible. I am from the body of Christ. He who rest deeply within my soul. I am like the falling snowflakes, unique from one another. Different personalities capture myself. | I am from a family who is like coffee. They are the building blocks of my life. Dark brown sleeves with black strands. A family who knows the true definition of fun. I am from a family who expects more of me. I can only give them what I’ve got. I am made up of my sister. Who is more than that to me. She and I are one. The bond of love can never be broken. That's the meaning of my family. I am from experience. Experience of 14 years. Filled with knowledge from my stupefying mentors. I am from GSMST. Where there is infinite possibilities. I am from my friends. Who make up a small part of me. I am from this world. | 3
4: Self Respect Sometimes I laugh , sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I feel bold, sometimes I won’t. Depending on the situation, I might even cry. It really just depends on the person and maybe even why. I’m not your average girl hidden behind a wall of make-up. And I ain’t that happy with myself right now. But I learned that I’m lackin’ some confidenece Somebody’s puttin be down. I’m not that girl with a flawless face. My worth is not determined by my mind or my race. No matter what he says, I will always be beautiful to me. | 4
6: My Mother's Kitchen Ma constantly wandered to her secret place. Always came back with a pleasant face. I never understood why Until I came of age and tried, Tried to come into her secret place. Oh! How much secrets she had in her case. She knew how to bake a cake. In an oven that takes, Many horses to power. She knew had to use flour No, not flowers! Flour to make some dough And use it to make cookies in the shape of snow! Snow is not a shape I learned It can be anything you want. Oh! How much secrets she had to share. Ma’s place started to take over me Soon it became me. This many people could now see. The clanking of the pots, the bubbling of the water All became me. Even my auntie who walked in on me, Said “What a great chef you have grown up to be!” Before I used to change something green to brown After eating this, People would scream a shrieking sound. Now I make their tongues dance around. I give the credits to ma and her secrets. The secrets that once dwelt in her case. | I practiced, and practice With the guidance of the secrets. As soon as she died, The secrets faded away. No longer there for me. All hope was lost. The only thing I had was Ma’s kitchen. The same where she cooked her steaming soup. The memories of Ma comes back. When my own daughter want to come in my world. The world that once was my moms. Is now mine. Now it’s my daughter’s time. To learn those secrets. The secrets my mom had in her case. | 6
7: My Mother's Kitchen | 7
8: This poem is a parody of a song. Welcome to Atlanta | 8
9: Language Arts Class :) | 9 | Welcome to Language Arts, where we mostly play. Were we have fun and write poetry like everyday. Songs, hyperboles, alliteration, stories, we also read poems that are really really gory. Romeo and Juliet, Beowulf, and more And we also read a long folk lore. Welcome to Language Arts, where we there are puns Now my poetry is finally done!