FC: Taly Moua Block 1 | My Poetry Portfolio
1: Table of Contents | 1. Where I'm From...........................Pages. 2-5 2. I will Always be Me.......................Pages. 6-7 3. Mother's Kitchen...........................Pages 8-9 4.LA Poem..................................Pages 10-11
2: Where I'm From | I am from chocolate chip cookies, from White Windmill and Anise. I am from the warmth of the flames burning in the fireplace (Full of energy and shining brightly.) I am from a pile of vibrant leaves, Falling gracefully as a slight breeze touches my hair, Reminding me of all the festivities that I love the most. | I am from lack of height and dimples, From Watzai and Wa, I am from the superstitious and the hard workers, From bad luck to good luck. I am from He who speaks wisely with His round belly sticking out His sacredness for nature harnesses me As I nurture my surroundings.
3: I am from the lonely solo of a piano, From the high expectations of my family. I am from the days that never seem to set the sun, Even when rain tarnish the window panes. I dig deep into my opportunities and snatch it Before it slips away from my fingers. | I’m from a big city with bright lights, Coffee and croissants consume the morning, Like grass are to cows grazing on the countryside. From my dad who lost his family to war, I learned to strongly maintain the safety of all those around me.
4: In the bathroom closet lie memories, A small girl grins so widely in these photos, Making me want to share her smile with everyone else, As the camera snaps one photo at a time.
6: I will always be Me. Sometimes I drag the mascara and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I curl my hair and sometimes I won't. Depend on how the sun shines I might grab a Popsicle. It really just depends where my heart wants to go. I’m not the average American cover girl And I’m not built like a star-studded pageant queen But, I learned to love my own personality Because I’m not a wannabe. I’m not the average American cover girl, My life is not based on how much tall I can grow, No matter what shoes are on my feet, I will always be me.
7: Am I a better person if I were only brand clothes? Based on what they know, my parents tell me no, People can't love you for how much money You got in the back of your denim pockets; When haven't even laid a finger on your personal storybook.
8: Mother's Kitchen The aroma grabs our nose Closer and closer the stove She sprinkles some of that and a dash of this Over the fried rice dish. The spinach plate over by that corner Makes my stomach a bit queasy inside, Clutching with my hands over the rumbling plains, The golden chicken catches my eyes. Her hands dance along the countertops. As she grabs a plate or two, She leans over for that taste test, Only asking for a spoonful.
9: Bing! Bing! The timer rings and pouts. As my momma runs to the baked cake, However, no hands were allowed On the wonderful work of art. The table is finally decorated With the dishes and cake. Momma thinly slices the meat as eyes look upon her ready to eat.
10: The beginning of the day starts with LA. Pencils tapping and people chatting Mildly disturb what we’re learning. But when we hear that first bell, We get back on our feet and Start working endlessly. Mrs. Glenn’s voice projects our attention We all have to listen if we don’t want detention. She says we all will be presenting While everyone else is listening. | LA Poem
11: Some mumble, some stumble, And others fervently explain While being able to maintain The terse time limit. All ends well with rejoice As everyone claps to the joy.