Project 1 English
To incorporate english into my project, I thought that creating a poem would be the best idea. A poem would portray emotion strongly, which is what I am looking to achieve. Since nostalgia is such a personal and emotional thing, I decided to put my poem in the point of view of someone who is going through their own nostalgia. That point of view I decided to do was my granddads. To make sure I understood where his nostalgia came from, I interviewed him on what he feels while he listens to music, where it takes him, and why he feels those ways. During the interview, I recorded the most helpful and descriptive quotes to put into my poem.
These are some of the quotes I collected that I wanted to use for my poem. After underlining and circling important words, I figured out what would be best to put in my poem and how I can put myself in my granddads perspective. It was not too challenging to put myself in his perspective since he was so descriptive and emotional while answering my questions. I gathered all my information from him to start a rough draft.
In my rough draft I wrote down an idea of what I wanted my final poem to look like. I used an example of another poem called Hangman by Philip Stevens. That poem helped me with finding what format I wanted mine to be in and how it captured the feeling of nostalgia throughout. That is exactly what I wanted to do for my poem. Once I got my rough draft figured out I began my final poem.
While writing my final poem I made sure to use words and certain quotes that my granddad had said during the interview. He spoke of the feeling of his own nostalgia behind music and why he felt those certain ways. He descried what he visualizes while listening to his old music and how much he recalls. I used all of this information to make my poem as personal as possible. With careful refinements and gathering suggestions, I was able to produce the best poem I could create for this project.
Here is my final poem:
This Takes Me Back
Steadily I lift the dusted sheet,
An album I held dear.
Revealing the flimsy, black disc
Which placed me back on the festival grounds
Swaying back and forth to the tunes.
Gently placed on the table,
It starts to spin slowly
A representation of my sentimentality and tenderness,
As they spin in sync.
A needle that skids within the grooves
Continues to glide with the rhythm.
My head rolls back heavily
Filled with vivid memories of
Multi-colored figures swarming together,
Flowing with the ancient melody.
A flood of the same rush I felt once
Returned with bittersweetness.
The same neon dream in rewind
Pulling me into my history.
Riffs and vibrations tug at my ears,
Forcing me to travel back in time.
The carefree ecstacy radiating inside.
Back then, it was my time
When my spirit was fully awake.
Ear throbbing rhythms glaze over my mind.
Why does it feel so sore?
I can see the carpet of controlled chaos
Covering the stadium grounds.
Arms and hands waved for peace
And I joined in the harmonious act.
Our purpose was to rock
And we never wanted to end it.
Holding onto that same trill,
I let the vinyl continue to rotate;
Pulling me back further.
It was once those very riffs grabbed me,
Hendrix struck my soul.
Like the electricity from his guitar jumped out
And held me hostage.
The folks around me forgetting
What personal space meant.
In no way uncomfortable,
Just connected in melodies.
Every strum, every hum, bonding one another.
Only when I forget, it comes back to bite me.
I miss it.
I miss the comfort of knowing where I belong,
Of being immersed in treasured music,
Being melted into a sea of people,
Becoming a part of something undeniably precious,
Dancing and drowning ourselves in youth.
As the vinyls tune putters to a stop,
As does my story.
It is a simple disc of phonograph
That always makes me say,
“Man, this takes me back.”
Here is my final poem:
This Takes Me Back
Steadily I lift the dusted sheet,
An album I held dear.
Revealing the flimsy, black disc
Which placed me back on the festival grounds
Swaying back and forth to the tunes.
Gently placed on the table,
It starts to spin slowly
A representation of my sentimentality and tenderness,
As they spin in sync.
A needle that skids within the grooves
Continues to glide with the rhythm.
My head rolls back heavily
Filled with vivid memories of
Multi-colored figures swarming together,
Flowing with the ancient melody.
A flood of the same rush I felt once
Returned with bittersweetness.
The same neon dream in rewind
Pulling me into my history.
Riffs and vibrations tug at my ears,
Forcing me to travel back in time.
The carefree ecstacy radiating inside.
Back then, it was my time
When my spirit was fully awake.
Ear throbbing rhythms glaze over my mind.
Why does it feel so sore?
I can see the carpet of controlled chaos
Covering the stadium grounds.
Arms and hands waved for peace
And I joined in the harmonious act.
Our purpose was to rock
And we never wanted to end it.
Holding onto that same trill,
I let the vinyl continue to rotate;
Pulling me back further.
It was once those very riffs grabbed me,
Hendrix struck my soul.
Like the electricity from his guitar jumped out
And held me hostage.
The folks around me forgetting
What personal space meant.
In no way uncomfortable,
Just connected in melodies.
Every strum, every hum, bonding one another.
Only when I forget, it comes back to bite me.
I miss it.
I miss the comfort of knowing where I belong,
Of being immersed in treasured music,
Being melted into a sea of people,
Becoming a part of something undeniably precious,
Dancing and drowning ourselves in youth.
As the vinyls tune putters to a stop,
As does my story.
It is a simple disc of phonograph
That always makes me say,
“Man, this takes me back.”