Funny thing, I couldn't find my poetry book with all the poems I made in 11th grade. So, you can't see my emo-riffic oems. I'm kinda glad actually. There were a few poems in that book I made that were pretty fun, however. Anyway... Take this:

The Winter Generations

When you think back it is all white,
snow falling on previous snow, the fatherly angels
of cornice and split-rail generalized
by accumulation, as if the quiet you suspected
was always there and had grown
outward, and a pin dropped anywhere
would sink into its own impression
and snow quickly cover
that flaw with a thin white scar,
so the question of sound never arose.

When you think back your lips freeze
with icy snot and your hands
burn under mittens, which is nothing
compared to the pain when they come off
and blood screams at room
temperature, and the crust of weather melts
from cuffs and Father's navy cap
left steaming on the radiator,
and you swallow first agony of waiting
as the Hop-A-Long mug of cocoa cools.

When you think back, that man
throwing snow to either side of the walk,
that woman watching, shaping
the mammal plush of your hair with her
curved hand - they could be
your children now, they are so young,
the future has not mentioned
their names, and later when they embrace
in the kitchen you will squirm
between, one of the happy unknown.

When you think back too long
the present says feed me, I'm starving
and your own children tumble
from the bus and hardscrabble through the door,
the notebook leaps from your hand
and falls into that distant winter
where consciousness, lit like a pilot light,
first knew where it burned alone,
and your daughters must be driven, hurry,
to their soccer practice in the snow.

~ Jeffrey Skinner

Found on pg 330 in The Autumn House Anthology of Contemporary American Poetry.

Setting! Who said setting?
No one, but speaking of setting, this poem does a good job describing it.

First off, I pictured a snowflake falling down on already snowed-on land, then more and more snowflakes.

Then panning out, no one making a noise in this town where it is snowing, no one even outside walking in the town, just snow.

Then I pictured some guy looking at this scene from inside his house (like looking out the window) and picturing his childhood. How when he was small, it was just as cold outside and he would then come inside and watch snow melt over the radiator in his warm house.

Then, him thinking back to when he just got married (maybe) and he would be outside shoveling the snow while his wife (maybe) would be watching him.

Finally, his children running from the outside cold into the warm house and him watching them pass him by and driving them to their soccer practice in the cold snow once again.

Also, can someone please explain (or show me where the explanation is) what that "30 page" thing is that we have to compile in this class? Is it a compilation of 30 of our poems/stories/etc... ?

OMG I HATE THIS STUPID BLOGSPOT
It has a problem with accepting html codes for spaces GAWD
I tell it to do a BR tag and it does a freaken P tag or something ... and it's alignment... gawd don't get me started... *mumbles* stupid...crap...

Ok I'm done venting... Bye!