James+Seward+III

// James Seward// __//**Poetry Portfolio**//__

//"Poets are soldiers that liberate words from the steadfast possession of definition."// ~Eli Khamarov

__**Introduction**__ Welcome to James' Gold English Poetry Portfolio. In this wiki, you will be able to witness some of the works by James Andrew Seward III. As you read I hope that you will learn more about him and his style of poetry. Please Enjoy. Thank you.

__**Auto-Biography and Poem Analysis**__ James Andrew Seward III was born on May 31, 1993. He was born an only child at the Children’s hospital in Chicago Illinois. He soon moved to Philadelphia with both his parents. From an early age James was taught the arts. He was taught how to play the drums, how to rhyme and how to think outside the box. At the Age of 6, he began to attend Spruce Hill Christian School. There he learned how to creatively express himself in a positive manner. After four years, he transferred to Greene Street Friends School. There he learned the all the fundamentals he would need to become a good poet/artist in today’s society. Eventually he found his way to Science Leadership Academy. He now owns a small Record Company called OXmusic and expresses himself through his music and his poetry. In my 1st poem, “What It do” I talk about myself. i describe myself, how i was brought up and how i act to my audience. In my next poem, “ode to skateboarding” i take on a persona of someone who is skateboarding. i tells their tale and talks about what its like as a skater. “He says All he wanted to do was kick push grid and be happy when he landed…His dream will come true Y'all will see him posted up on you tube. Of Corse he’ll have the haters that will so crude, but he’ll preserver to the end and do what he do.” my’ perception of a skateboarder is very realistic. i am someone who grew up only having a skateboard as a room decoration, yet i talk about it with such clarity that you may believe that i have skated all my life. In my next poem, “ode to dreams” i tells the story of a boy named jimmy and what he experiences in his dreams. he states in the last stanza, //"...Its finally time, he goes for the kiss. emotions run deep. the good guy finally wins. Its his first and last chance to repent for his sins, He holds her tight. their souls begin to blend, But nothing after that. the dream just ends...."// I made this poem in honor of a old friend who was killed. This poem was loosely based around his life and his struggles. R.I.P. My next poem "Take to the sky" is from an old song by the temptations. The song talks about the singers obtaining a natural high from the girl they are with. my poem is about Courtasy and being a nice person. in it i say //"Take to the sky, on a natural high. The wind underneath your feet as you soar. Never Fall down till the day that you die. Just take your dreams and open up the door//". I always belive in pushing your limits and becoming better than you were the day before. i beilive that when i use words of encouragement like these i can enspire myself and those around me. In my last poem //"how bout that" I// talk about wanting to become famous and changing the world to remember who you are. and I also talks about how hard it is to accomplish such a dream. I say //"Throughout all my life, I have never seen this type of shame. How bout that? People begging, shooting, killing….Is this really the price of fame? How bout that? To people who already have greatness, this is all a game. How bout that? In life we strive so hard in life, but no one remembers your name. How bout that?// I myself have set big goals in life as a standard and hope to fulfil them. i would like to own my own company, study international law and maybe make OXmusic™ internationally known. I always go towards these goals but when i made this i had talked to my half brother, who had just gone back to college. He was telling me things that somewhat upset my dreams so i wrote this to easy my confused state.

__**Poets Quotes**__ //"Poetry is like music, Its at its best when both writer and listener can feel it"//~James Seward

__**Ode**__

I cant talk about being raised in the street As far as im concerned, my life is Pretty sweet cant say I know what it means to kill In terms of action my life stands still don’t need to talk about being locked in jail Cause my parents said they wont even pay the bail Well in this verse there’s Nothing left to say My life is a game and you just entered coins to play So without any more wait without further a due Let me explain my life, what I is what I do I grew up in west Philadelphia which is an okay place I started off in an apartment with a moderate space I was taught to be a gentleman and to treat a woman right I learned what it means to fight the good fight And when things got tough, I never resorted to crime Never killed to live, I just used my mind So now I'm banging out beats here at SLA And if its all according to plan, that’s where I'm gonna stay So before you go and call me another ghetto kid You better remember who I am and this is what I is..
 * It’s just me (what it do) [ode to me and my family]**

Ka Kun Ka Kun Ka Kun. His neighbors couldn’t stand it They wanted to have his board reprimanded. All he wanted to do was kick push grid and be happy when he landed Through all he withstood, wear a helmet was all his parents demanded. And he would ride around just doing that Either by himself or with a crew at his back With the wind in his face he didn’t care about the stacks He was just happy with people starin at his back Just watch him. His dream will come true Y'all will see him posted up on you tube Of Corse he’ll have the haters that will so crude But he’ll preserver to the end and do what he do.
 * Ode To Skateboarding!**

Now jimmy’s only 20 years of age. He has a dead end job with minimum wage. He has a girlfriend that has to lay, 15 guys for 60 dollars a day. He dropped out of school to be with his honey Now they got a child and they're running out of money Life is so very dangerous and so it seems The only place he’s safe is in his dreams So jimmy nods his head, brushes his teeth, turns out the lights and goes to sleep Praying one day he'll find a place with no worry or any type of haste. Next thing he knows, he’s riding on a tiger His girls on his left, their daughter right beside her They're riding through the jungle, strong and fast They ride off a cliff but the fall don’t last. Now they're riding in a jet, sitting first class With hearts full of hope, and pockets full of cash. Now hey land inside a active volcano He asks her hand in marriage, she really cant say no Next it’s the wedding small and bliss Its finally time, he goes for the kiss emotions run deep. the good guy finally wins Its his first and last chance to repent for his sins He holds her tight. their souls begin to blend But nothing after that. the dream just ends....
 * Ode To Dreams**

__**Sonnet**__ Take to the sky, on a natural high.
 * Take to the sky**

The wind underneath your feet as you soar.

Never Fall down till the day that you die.

Just take your dreams and open up the door

Love endlessly cause love is forever.

Love like you will never love, no never

Show kindness to all that come in your way.

You never know what happens on this day.

Be prosperous wherever you may go

Remember you will reap what you will sow.

There is fun to be had when your fly.

So take to the sky on a natural high.

How bout that?**
 * __Ghazal__

Throughout all my life I have never seen this type of shame. How bout that?

People begging, shooting, killing…. Is this really the price of fame? How bout that?

To people who already have greatness, this is all a game. How bout that?

In life we strive so hard, But no one remembers your name. How bout that?

Through all that is said, You still want to try through the pain? How bout that?

Your mind isn’t clear, You see through one side like a window Paine. How bout that?

A easy path to fame and fortune, Is this really what will keep you completely sane? How bout that?

Or is it all a lie, Will it make you become crazy, insane? How bout that?

How selfish can you be? Think about you family and friends who know your brain. How bout that?

You ignorant fools will learn, You reap what you sow and you lose all you gain. How bout that?

Sure you have dreams, Your goal in life is to leave on this world a stain. How bout that?

You push yourself harder, Make yourself the person in the picture frame. How bout that?

I understand completely, You’re tired of people calling you a loser, lame. How bout that?

But make sure you don’t over do it Cause this world has already been changed. How bout that?

By you and me a simple teen, Whose first name is James...How bout that?

From as long as I can remember, I have been a poet. I have always been good at rhyming and looking for new ways to express myself. I believe that I found a good way to do that in my poetry. Many of my poems are a testament to life and everything that happens in it. Things that people may do or say. All the feelings and memories all piled up into the words that barely sum it up. I especially like to focus on things that me and my friends like to do, such as skateboarding or rapping and playing instruments. In my life i have had many things to come to terms with. the death of multiple loved ones, not knowing my birth town, and the loosing of many close friends. One person can only take so much without a true outlet. many people would have assumed i would so something that is violent or have some criminal intent because of these things. I instead chose to let my poetry be my outlet, even though i never show it i let my everyday actions be my outlet. i cant out on weird impulses to keep those around me guessing at what i will do next. this happens during school, when i am home, or even skateboarding or playing a sport. these things become the place where i put all my suppressed feelings. This in turn, allows me to write with a clear head and heart. many poets i have seen talk about how their poems are about their life good and bad. i have come to realize this is not for me. i would rather focus on what makes my life better than talk about how many things have gone wrong with it. One thing that remains in every poem is the influence of modern day and old school music. Especially rap and old school funk/R&B. Like in my sonnet, I took the 1st lyric from a song by the temptations called “take to the sky”. I have always loved the creativeness of this song and really wanted to incorporate it into a poem or rap. Just like music, you must feel it in your heart to write poetry.
 * //__Spoken Word From the Poet.__//**


 * __//My Poet-Langston Hughes//__**

James Langston Hughes was born February 1, 1902, in Joplin, Missouri. His parents divorced when he was a small child, and his father moved to Mexico. His grandmother raised him until he was thirteen, when he moved to Lincoln, Illinois, to live with his mother and her husband, before the family eventually settled in Cleveland, Ohio. From a young age, Hughes knew about the hardships of modern life at the time. Being raised by neither of your parents and living in a depression made his life as a child much harder. But he was not one to be beat by the depressing times like most were. When he decided to become a poet, he had found the perfect way to release all the emotions that might have been hidden all this time. In the poem “Night Funeral in Harlem”, Hughes discusses a funeral for a boy who had just died. He talks about the details that everyone put into making a funeral and everything all of us might miss when we see everyone crying. In the last stanza he says, “Night funeral In Harlem: When it was all over and the lid shut on his head, and the organ had done played, and the last prayers been said, and six pallbearers, Carried him out for dead, And off down Lenox Avenue, That long black hearse done sped, The street light At his corner, Shined just like a tear-- That boy that they was mournin', Was so dear, so dear, To them folks that brought the flowers, To that girl who paid the preacher man-- It was all their tears that made That poor boy's Funeral grand.” Hughes goes deep into what we would call a original tradition for funerals. He notes that even though the ceremony was for the boy who had just died, the reason why it had any meaning was those that were there and those that took part. We all notice the huge funeral precessions tat go by us. We see that there is a dead person and give our condolences to the grieving family. But why do these funerals stand out from the smaller ones? It is because people that are there when there are many people, everyone notices. Especially when they all come dressed beautifully and everything is decorated to a T. Sometime there aren’t even people grieving. it seems as if the only way to tell if it’s a funeral or a party is if there is a lot of people in black. One of his stronger emotional poems was “Let America be America again”. In this poem, Hughes describes his ideal America while saying that this is not “his America”. Growing up he was probably told all these wonderful stories about America and all of its wealth and all of the opportunity that lay’s within this great country. But at the same time, he experienced the hardships of America in its truest form. He completely states his true opinion in “Let America be America again” when he said “O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath- America will be! Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain-- All, all the stretch of these great green states-- And make America again”. In this, Hughes talks about what Is America has become. He had come to a full realization of the place he lived. He had realized that it was no longer the where he had grew up. It had become more violent and full of hate and crime. He saw America as it was. But he had not given up hope. He also knew that the course that America was on could be altered. He had saw that the world was becoming much like his own past. He saw that it started out as an ok place. But had begun to break down and become worse and worse. He also knew from experience that since it is going down it will soon go back up and once again. The last poem I found was “Dreams”. Many of us know this famous poem. It is one taught to us as one of our first poems in kindergarten or 1st grade. It is a small poem in which Hughes tells us the importance of dreams. He Simply States, “Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, Life is a broken-winged bird, that cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams, for when dreams go, life is a barren field, frozen with snow.” Hughes did not have much as a child. He grew up an only child in a time where money was very rare and times only seemed to get rougher. He made his poem because it was a momentum to him and all the others who survived that time with only their dreams to rely on. Many people would have given up but he let his dreams be his guiding light and he made it past that time. code Night funeral In Harlem:
 * Autobiography and poem analysis**

Where did they get Them two fine cars?

Insurance man, he did not pay-- His insurance lapsed the other day-- Yet they got a satin box for his head to lay.

Night funeral In Harlem:

Who was it sent That wreath of flowers?

Them flowers came from that poor boy's friends-- They'll want flowers, too, When they meet their ends.

Night funeral in Harlem:

Who preached that Black boy to his grave?

Old preacher man Preached that boy away-- Charged Five Dollars His girl friend had to pay.

Night funeral In Harlem:

When it was all over And the lid shut on his head and the organ had done played and the last prayers been said and six pallbearers Carried him out for dead And off down Lenox Avenue That long black hearse done sped, The street light At his corner Shined just like a tear-- That boy that they was mournin' Was so dear, so dear To them folks that brought the flowers, To that girl who paid the preacher man-- It was all their tears that made That poor boy's    Funeral grand.

Night funeral In Harlem. code

code Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed-- Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

//Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?//

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek-- And finding only the same old stupid plan Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope, Tangled in that ancient endless chain Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro, servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean-- Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That's made America the land it has become. O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home-- For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore, And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa's strand I came To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free? Not me? Surely not me? The millions on relief today? The millions shot down when we strike? The millions who have nothing for our pay? For all the dreams we've dreamed And all the songs we've sung And all the hopes we've held And all the flags we've hung, The millions who have nothing for our pay-- Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again-- The land that never has been yet-- And yet must be--the land where //every// man is free. The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME-- Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose-- The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people's lives, We must take back our land again, America!

O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath-- America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain-- All, all the stretch of these great green states-- And make America again! code

code Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow. code