excerpts from my ninth grade poetry portfolio

note from author: this is a judgement free zone. 9th grade izzy really thought she was doing
something.

poem 1 notes: this is the best poem i have ever written to this day

yiKes
By: Isabelle Lee
Mi naym is Izz,
Am sort of dum.
When we rite pome,
I turn an run.

I don lik pen,
I don lik rite,
But I need A,
So rite all nite

poem 2 notes: wrote this ode after watching endgame. can’t believe i had so much to say about a
white man.

The Star Spangled Man
By: Isabelle Lee
Born in Brooklyn ages ago,
Steve Rogers grew up small and frail.
Though full of strength and passion,
Many looked at him to fail.
His small physique caused him great judgement,
But his will was stronger than all.
When war approached his country,
He was ready to take the fall.

Bearing America’s colors,
He led them to great victory.
Little did he know,
That they would tell his story.

When he went into the ice America grieved,
His name was known nationwide.
He wrote his name in history,
He slept with his shield by his side.
A hundred years later his body was found,
Steve Rogers woke to a whole new world.
And though he was confused and a little scared,
He picked up his shield once more.

Once again he was ridiculed and scorned,
But he never let the words cut deep.
He knew the path of righteousness,
And it’s essence he forever keep.
When troubles of the past arose,
And he felt his compass waver,
He rose to challenge proudly,
Showing that none were braver.

A symbol to the world, a beacon of hope,
An icon holding great admiration.
He showed that even the smallest of men
Could rise to lead a nation.
They laughed and said he couldn’t,
But he proved to them he can.
There isn’t another greater
Than the star spangled man.

poem 3 notes: not me calling myself a flower. i’m pretty sure there was a template for this one
and i did not follow it.

Identity
By: Isabelle Lee
I am from huge staircases,
From houses built high to the sky.
I am from the smoke polluting the crowded streets.
(Thick, dark, it smelled of poison.)
I am from the endless heat
The humid air
For which I remember with complete clarity.

I’m from textbooks and instruments
From the harsh beating of my teacher’s hand
I’m from the judging looks
Of a nation that did not accept outsiders
I’m from church every Sunday
Bible verses and songs of worship for a God I did not know

I’m from Tainan and Cupertino,
A flower sprouting from two countries.
From small gardens homegrown,
Seedlings bursting with life,
And large leaves chewed away by snails.

The boxes above my desk
Carry countless memories from the past,
That the years of wear have not removed.

I am from those humble beginnings,
A plant cultivated carefully,
Shooting into the sky.

that’s it. thank you for your time.