Please share your thoughts, writing and responses to the poem here.
36 thoughts on “Week 2 Langston Hughes”
Mixed voices crowding together
Making one air which we breathe altogether
Water filled with mingled faces
Polluting the air with the smell of chemicals
Dirty clear clouds of water
squashed inside
the smell of garbage lingering about
you can see people with a look of doubt
the sound of lorrys wooshing by
but still the wondering face of why
Suspense.
Breathtaking suspense.
Noise booming violently through the air.
The smell of fear and tension itself.
The taste of exhilaration and adrenaline.
A fuzzy, colourful blur of people.
Miffed into one.
The red transportation,
the chattered talk,
the smell of breath and sweat,
the taste of the hot air,
the babies crying themselves to sleep,
these things things combined make a crowded space.
I saw a hundred people at a glance
surrounding me all tall and towering
I could never ever dance and dance
because the crowds were overpowering
A stench of musky breath mingled in the air
The sound of voices rang in my ears
but even though there were people there
I was small and alone with many fears
I felt lonely and abandoned but nobody cared.
The train roared as it raced out of its lair
It was almost as loud as the people’s screams
as they squeezed into the trains care
No space No room and I felt fear
as I was small and lonely with a journey to proceed.
Loud and chatty people all around,
Posh puppies wagging their tails on the ground,
The smell of different people all together,
The breezy wind blowing through everyone’s hair,
A wonderful taste of lemon drops in my mouth as i suck the last one in the packet,
It may be loud, but the feeling of calmness surged through my body as the queen herself walked daintily past, sipping a cup of tea.
Being small you look up at everyone
Being tall you look down
In a crowd there are all different races
People pushing shoving faces
Crawling through a riot
It is very loud
People fighting for rights
Days and nights
You can smell determination-sweat and pain
All leaking, running down the drain
Everybody was urged
To be murged
For the enemy was coming
The planes were humming
The animals went to hide
And thats how people died
The bombs were dropt
The babys howled
The mothers cowed
The smell of smoke in the air,
The sound of sizzle and pop with the food,
The taste of spice on your tongue,
push and shove to get where you want,
chatting and laughter fills the air.
rush along the tracks and skreech
a cold wind, with a blure
the musty seats with many faces who have been places
‘doors opening’
the taste of bordome fills the air
and people just don’t care
the train
this is my poem
shuffeled voices and rails
the feeling of fear
as nothing happens
no room to touch just to feel
shuffeled
but when its your stop
you will never hear the doors go clonk
The sound of chat,
The taste of food,
The smell of alcahol,
The wooden walls,
The sound of drinking,
The late night talk,
The sound of a night in London.
I can smell mingled breath,
and hundreds of people on one peace of transport,
the weals going up and down,
and baby`s screaming
and the sweaty seats and children crunching on food.
I am standing in
the middle of a
crowed swimming pool
with mingled breath and clorine
you can feel the water
sliviring towards you but
it would taste like a mix of chlorine
and water which will not be ice their is no room for fear.
I can feel the cold metal
I can smell the gas of the engine
I can hear the screeching of the steal wheel
I can see the backs of the people everywhere
The feeling of fear, that you will miss your stop
Mixed faces
mixed races
mixed voices
mixed sounds
all around
graceful shadows
dancing on the ice
grating sounds coming from the shimmering blade
woolly socks getting soaked
frost eating away at the warmth inside
grastful figures scraping up the ice
squeaks coming from the smooth ice
wooly gloves getting soaked
children laughing and having fun
Enclosed, trapped in this environment,
The stench of breaths fills it up,
All the enclosed places such little spaces,
All you see is different faces,
Entirely,
Mingled,
Thank you for sharing Tadiwa and Chima. The line “The stand of breaths fills up” is powerful. Your poem seems more negative than Langston Hughes’. Would you agree?
Mixed voices crowding together
Making one air which we breathe altogether
Water filled with mingled faces
Polluting the air with the smell of chemicals
Dirty clear clouds of water
nice I like your poem and u are good at poems
60000 people in one place,
cheering loudly,
black and white,
in red and white,
we are a community,
so many different faces,
in just one place.
Are you an Arsenal fan Oliver?
squashed inside
the smell of garbage lingering about
you can see people with a look of doubt
the sound of lorrys wooshing by
but still the wondering face of why
Smell of food
taste of food
crowds of people
black and white
waiting
doors opening
doors closing
bells ringing
packets crunching
these things combined
Suspense.
Breathtaking suspense.
Noise booming violently through the air.
The smell of fear and tension itself.
The taste of exhilaration and adrenaline.
A fuzzy, colourful blur of people.
Miffed into one.
The red transportation,
the chattered talk,
the smell of breath and sweat,
the taste of the hot air,
the babies crying themselves to sleep,
these things things combined make a crowded space.
I saw a hundred people at a glance
surrounding me all tall and towering
I could never ever dance and dance
because the crowds were overpowering
A stench of musky breath mingled in the air
The sound of voices rang in my ears
but even though there were people there
I was small and alone with many fears
I felt lonely and abandoned but nobody cared.
The train roared as it raced out of its lair
It was almost as loud as the people’s screams
as they squeezed into the trains care
No space No room and I felt fear
as I was small and lonely with a journey to proceed.
Thank you for sharing Nadia. I like the way you’ve personified the train in the last stanza. It provides a sense of foreboding.
Loud and chatty people all around,
Posh puppies wagging their tails on the ground,
The smell of different people all together,
The breezy wind blowing through everyone’s hair,
A wonderful taste of lemon drops in my mouth as i suck the last one in the packet,
It may be loud, but the feeling of calmness surged through my body as the queen herself walked daintily past, sipping a cup of tea.
This is my poem
It’s big,
It’s red,
It has a double deck
The hot breath, it’s horrible stench
The cramped passengers, the elderly and young,
The sweaty people, it’s greasy drips
The people all mingle,
The bus stops,
Everyone gets off.
Being small you look up at everyone
Being tall you look down
In a crowd there are all different races
People pushing shoving faces
Crawling through a riot
It is very loud
People fighting for rights
Days and nights
You can smell determination-sweat and pain
All leaking, running down the drain
Everybody was urged
To be murged
For the enemy was coming
The planes were humming
The animals went to hide
And thats how people died
The bombs were dropt
The babys howled
The mothers cowed
Mixed emotions fly around
Blackness fills the emptiness
The smell of soil
Sobs mingle with emotions
Silence fills the air
A box
Hi Charlotte, I enjoyed reading this. It shows with a careful selection of words you can convey a lot.
i can hear bees buzzing,
i can smell Macdonalds,
i can taste fries wich tastes good,
and lots of people ,
lots of bees,
lots of food.
The mall
mingled with people ,smells
food
smelly food fills the musty smells
hot air ,the taste of bordem
children crying
The mall
A smell of chlorine
A feel of water
you can hear it splash
you can taste it but youll choke
you can hear its current
The smell of smoke in the air,
The sound of sizzle and pop with the food,
The taste of spice on your tongue,
push and shove to get where you want,
chatting and laughter fills the air.
rush along the tracks and skreech
a cold wind, with a blure
the musty seats with many faces who have been places
‘doors opening’
the taste of bordome fills the air
and people just don’t care
the train
Super poem Bea. I like the way you link the physical “musty seats” with the feelings of the people.
this is my poem
shuffeled voices and rails
the feeling of fear
as nothing happens
no room to touch just to feel
shuffeled
but when its your stop
you will never hear the doors go clonk
I am in a place
with no space.
All around
screaming people,
And no room,
no space,
no fear.
A bar
The sound of chat,
The taste of food,
The smell of alcahol,
The wooden walls,
The sound of drinking,
The late night talk,
The sound of a night in London.
Thank you for sharing Toby. The repetition at the start of each line works well building a list and sense of the environment.
I can smell mingled breath,
and hundreds of people on one peace of transport,
the weals going up and down,
and baby`s screaming
and the sweaty seats and children crunching on food.
I am standing in
the middle of a
crowed swimming pool
with mingled breath and clorine
you can feel the water
sliviring towards you but
it would taste like a mix of chlorine
and water which will not be ice their is no room for fear.
HI Sam, I can see why you chose a setting like a swimming pool to mimic Hughes’ poem.
I can feel the cold metal
I can smell the gas of the engine
I can hear the screeching of the steal wheel
I can see the backs of the people everywhere
The feeling of fear, that you will miss your stop
Hi Kevin, Using senses to organise your poem works well. Thank you for sharing.
Mixed faces
mixed races
mixed voices
mixed sounds
all around
graceful shadows
dancing on the ice
grating sounds coming from the shimmering blade
woolly socks getting soaked
frost eating away at the warmth inside
grastful figures scraping up the ice
squeaks coming from the smooth ice
wooly gloves getting soaked
children laughing and having fun
Thank you Nancy. I like the way you’ve created an image through a number of short statements.
Enclosed, trapped in this environment,
The stench of breaths fills it up,
All the enclosed places such little spaces,
All you see is different faces,
Entirely,
Mingled,
Thank you for sharing Tadiwa and Chima. The line “The stand of breaths fills up” is powerful. Your poem seems more negative than Langston Hughes’. Would you agree?