Urgent - I need Imput!

I'm supposed to write a free verse poem for my Creative Writing class. I chose to use the way I felt when we first moved to Glendale, an area of Salt Lake City. Compared to Kaysville, Salt Lake seemed super scary. So my imagination ran wild sometimes. Anyways, so I've written two poems, and I really don't feel super confident about either. I like what I am trying to convey (I'm not scared of Glendale anymore, by the way) but I don't know if I put it on paper well.

Please read the poems and give me some comments. Do you like one of them more than the other? Why? What parts did you like or dislike? My class is Monday night, so I'm just scrambling for advice. Thanks in advance. Writing for a grade is intense.

Poem #1

At night
I hear a car driving by.
Drive by?
He is going fast and loud,
And my shoulders feel tight.
So I see
An explosion of glass,
Covering the room;
And I hear
Pop pop of a gun outside,
My child cries for me,
Tires squeal away.
I step away from the window,
The large square pane still whole.
I touch the glass and it’s cold.
I pray a little.

Near noon
I hear a siren.
Does it sound close?
It echoes down the swamp cooler
Into my home.
Into my home?
The wail gets fast and loud,
And my neck feels tense.
So I see
A rough-faced man,
Running toward my home.
And I hear
His heavy breathing,
The door hitting the wall,
Hushed urgency.
I run to the front door,
The heavy painted wood stands closed.
I lock it once, twice,
And I close the curtains tight.

Poem #2

If I hear a car at night,
Driving loud and fast near my home,
Full of people I have never met,
I assume the worst:
It’s a gang,
A drive-by
They are going to shoot us.
In my brain I can hear
Them laughing,
Shooting a gun,
Exploding the glass in my front window.
I feel very tight,
Like if I just hold my breath
Maybe they will pass us by.
I check the window;
The pane is cold but whole.
This time it wasn’t me.

Every siren that I hear,
Echoing down the swamp cooler,
Weaving in and out of my ear,
Means someone is in trouble.
I feel the trouble coming:
A criminal,
Running from the police,
Into my home.
And I can see
His darkened eyes,
The gun in his hand,
My fear
And the tremble of my children.
I run to lock the door
Both locks
And I carefully glance through the peep hole.
No one is coming today.

I heard that a neighbor lost two dogs
In the middle of the night,
Pure bread bloodhounds,
Who haven’t come back.
There’s graffiti on the elementary school wall,
Letters that I don’t understand,
Put there by someone I have never met.
But we’ve been here for a year
And it still hasn’t been us.
Not our window, our door, our home.
Not yet.

(Really, Mom and Dad, I'm not scared of Glendale anymore. I don't want these poems to freak you out, k?)

Canon is morning person.

My son Canon is almost 3 years old and there are a few things that I have learned about my boy. He likes to wear his shoes at all times, he is afraid of most Disney villains, and he is a definite morning person.

It's a Saturday and everyone is asleep. Canon shows up in my bed (on Ben's side that is usually vacant during these freelance times) and he wants me to be awake. I'm tired and I need to read my scriptures before I get out of bed. So Canon leaves. Then I hear him open the fridge, open himself a yogurt, get a spoon out of the drawer and sit at the kitchen table. He comes in a few minutes later to ask me what flavor of yogurt he has been eating (the name Lime seems to make him happy). He returns to the kitchen and I hear him clean up after himself when he is done. Yogurt in the garbage, spoon in the sink.

Keller starts to cry a little, from his bed (laying on Ben, on the couch--again, this is normal for us lately) and Ben doesn't seem to respond. So Canon goes to Keller, talks to him nicely and puts his binky in his mouth. Then Canon takes himself to the bathroom and only bothers me to help him find some underwear out of the clean laundry.

He was sweet, independent, and quiet the whole time. He whispered whenever he came to ask me something. What a cutie, right? This morning routine isn't something we've taught Canon; he's just realized that he will always be awake first and adapted, I guess. I'm proud of him and it makes me smile thinking of his cute morning. :) my Canon Peck.

Wish

I hope you all are having a really good day today and a great week. And if that's wishing for too much, I hope you have a few really wonderful moments that can make the rest worthwhile. One of my moments was watching Taesya sleep last night, and feeling how very lucky I am to have the family that I do. I wish the same happiness for each of you. Now go forth!

P.S. For any of you who read this and maybe haven't commented yet, I'd love to hear from you and know who you are. And what you think. Be brave and click that "comment" box.

Hanging this on the Fridge

In class today, I got back my paper on what financial success means to me. My teacher said, "Loved your paper. You have a great voice." I got 100% and I felt so good. I'm glad that school is going well; it's a lot of work and planning, but it makes me feel so happy to do good work. Yay.

Setting Assignment

(I wrote this from Taesya's point of view)

The garden isn’t really much of one anymore, unless you count the weeds, which are growing quite successfully. But the dirt is the best part of the garden anyways. A light dusty brown, it is packed and hardened together by the sun. The surrounding grass is much softer, an inviting space to sit while working in the earth.

Our small swimming pool is on its side, leaning against the chain link fence. Some rainwater has accumulated into a slight puddle in the grass-side of the pool. No one knows how long the water has been in the pool, but it has become a part of the yard, adjusting its temperature to whatever the weather dictates. This small pond is the key to transforming the dirt.

A few buckets scatter the yard: red, blue, and the big one is lime green. With a little rainwater and some dry dusty dirt, it is possible to create a beautiful pot of mud; deep brown and shiny, that mud teases the imagination. The aroma of wet soil is comforting and familiar as I settle down into the grass to decide what my mud and I will do today.

It's hard

Taesya is enjoying preschool but is having a tough time at home lately. She seems more emotional, tantrum-ish. She thinks she knows everything and that we're all wrong. I'm not sure what to do; I'm just hoping she'll adjust to the new routine and return to sweet Taesya.

This afternoon she got mad at me for telling her that we need to wait until dinner time to eat something. She was "crying" in the other room and I heard, "I hate my mommy." I told her that I'm sorry she feels that way, and it makes me sad to hear her say that. Now she's off playing in her bedroom, probably having forgot the whole thing, but I'm left here sort of in shock. That hurt me. I thought I had a couple more years before one of my children would express themselves in that way.

Being a parent is the hardest thing I have ever done.

Haiku: This is New

Refrigerator Thief

Up to something big.
He laughs with his wry blue eyes.
What’s he done this time?


Losing Weight

Dropped another few.
Jump for joy? Praise is due—for
All day stomach flu.

Reminding Myself

Dear Amber,

You can't do everything. It's just not possible. There will always be things left undone and that is just fine. Take a deep breath and choose one thing to start with. You can write your paper, start a load of laundry, wash the dishes, write the spotlight for the Sunday program, or blow dry your hair. No, you can't just do them all really fast and finish them all simultaneously. Pick ONE to work on. Break it down into small steps if that helps. Once you finish something, realize that you've accomplished a goal. Drink a glass of juice, feel happy. You're doing a great job and I am proud of you. Repeat it a few times if you need to: I can not do everything. Nope.

Amber

The Ivory Arises

Ok, so Ivory's a stretch but you get the picture. Keller has his first tooth, which is exciting and painful at the same time. We're excited because he's that much closer to feeding himself, but we feel bad for him, as he whines and can't sleep. All in all teething is a fun time: it's like finding gold - "Honey I found another one" and the crowd cheers wooohoooo. Another chapter in the journey begins.

Kid Art

Taesya Fe Peck, age 4

Benjamin Canon Peck, age 2