| All of this poetry
was written my 8th and 9th grade years, almost none of it was prompted by
classwork. I believe it suffers for that. ;)
Murder By the Sea
A gentle breeze blew across the grass
The seagulls let it gently pass
The ocean washed over little pink shells
and the ocean sound rang out like bells.
Then a scream broke the peace
and all of a sudden it seemd to cease.
A frightened girl, her face deathly pale.
She ran so hard, but tripped and fell.
Then a man with a knife came running after her
It was not the type of man anyone would call "sir"
He had black eyes and rugged brown hair
And voice so sharp it cut through the air
Then he yelled, "I didn't aim to cut your throat,
and I'm really sorry about the boat.
however your life is only worth sand,
when I consider my forty-five grand."
Though for her life she plead,
he promptly refused to heed.
Then for the money he murdered her there,
his mind was so greedy, he didn't care.
So she haunts him to this day;
he can't get rid of her in anyway.
He hasn't enjoyed a cent of that money,
since that day that was so sunny.
A gentle breeze blew across the grass
The seagulls let it gently pass
The ocean washed over little pink shells
and the ocean sound rang out like bells.
Since that day, no trace was left,
and the peace of the ocean was again left to rest.
Rain
Washing,
washing away,
washing away the grime,
the dirt in the creases of rocks,
trash in the rivers, pollution in the streams.
Faceless
What would happen if I got slapped into next week?
with the only catch I'd lost my face, which I would then seek;
Who would recognize me, facless as I stand?
Who would take me in, my head looking so bland?
I could rent it out on Halloween you see,
How realistic a mask that would be.
I could keep in a box under the bed,
but in the end, I'd rather keep it on my head.
when the night came
A tranquil, peaceful meadow passes
through my mind,
A bubbling brook flows joyfully
along a rocky bed.
The birds are singing in the trees of
a brand new spring.
And the bright sun shines down
and warms my back.
The soothing sounds of the forest,
a joyful note spreads through my body,
a note of nature's ancient song.
Then a cool wind blows across my face,
A sudden chill enters my bones,
night is falling.
The brook seems too quiet, no longer does
it bubble, instead it flows silently.
The birds have stopped singing,
except a mockingbird; it sings a lullaby.
The sun's bright rays are fading;
the light is draining from the sky.
And only the coolness of the moon remains.
The stars begin to sparkle, and
the magic night world now
reigns over the Earth.
death of time
Now time moves never.
Nothing has changed.
A slow, endless forever
is the force that reigns
The garden has not grown,
no tree has formed a limb,
and no seed has been sown.
Things are as you left them
broken and dismayed.
The trash is overflowing;
the bills go on unpaid.
The embers are still glowing;
they seem to refuse to die,
and I lie here on the couching,
hoping my tears will dry.
creation
Light from darkness.
The earth formed in God's hand,
and from the soil
and God's breath came man.
monday
I did a flip and landed on my head.
It really hurt and I might need a med.
Then I walked down the hall and hit a wall.
Maybe you should give our doctor a call.
Then I did my homework, oh my head aches.
Just thinking about it gives me the shakes.
I ran into the kitchen and slipped on the floor,
ans as I was falling I hit the pantry door.
Then I had to make a dash to the store,
but I can't drive! I had to run a mile or more.
Now I have passed out on the couch;
my whole body is in an unmovable slouch.
What's that you wnat me to the set the table?
I can't reach it; my legs are no longer able.
How 'bout I just sit on the floor and die?
Wait what's that? We're going to the mall.
Well, maybe I don't feel so bad after all.
love takes wing
Love is a bird. On the winds of God, it flies.
Its wings reach out and allow it to soar
throughout the skies.
It flies over the shimmering waters.
It flies through the turbulent storm.
Through day and night,
Through sun and storm,
it does not resist the torrents of pain,
and it does not cry out at the skies for what
they may bring.
When fall comes it flies south.
Somehow it knows that things change
and yet remain the same
waiting for the spring.
Then it flies home to where it belongs
in the open skies above familiar land.
the dream
Dream,
cool, refreshing, splash!
swimming, fun, laughing
clouds over sun, chill
something there
Nightmare,
something there,
something, close,
big, cold, scream!
dangerous, out! out! run!
chasing behind, hurry!
follows fast, must run faster
closer, closer, grab!
something waits
in the forest, something
there to kill.
Must escape
Wake! must wake!
Ahhh! safe.
rushing life
Pushed to achieve and told to run,
To grow up fast, no time for fun.
Children never we should be.
What a waste of memory.
Instead we learn to work all day.
What a nightmare should we play.
Our lives we have set in stone.
All together, and yet, alone.
Time for a wedding and now a kid,
But they grow up fast just as we did.
Never to know them. Don't have the time.
Before we know it they've reached their prime.
And there we are, the twilight years,
suddenly met are all our fears.
Where went the time, we must wonder.
We know the spell children are under.
We try to warn them, time passes by,
and before we know it, it's time to die.
As blackness comes and all pass away,
we do not find them on that day.
For even death they cannot leave
the jobs to which we've taught them cleave.
We wanted life, but now it's too late.
And worse, our children will share our fate.
flying
We feel a push, then a nudge.
Unstable at first, we spread our wings.
The for the first time we feel the wind.
It brushes our faces,
and soothes our flight.
We feel the sensation of soaring,
and a joy we never knew before.
We turn our heads,
and look back to our nest.
We know it's time to go.
With some regret, we say good-bye.
Then we embrace our new home, the sky,
and thank God our parents taught us how to fly.
a single voice
A single voice,
then another joins
followed by one more.
Then follows them a solid core.
The numbers soar higher and higher,
and soon they form a choir.
Each member adds a little piece
something dear to them
giving a love only found within
and each discards something they have been.
They are so numerous; there are so many.
Yet, they are as they began
A single voice.
field of death
A cold, cool wind blows across this overgrown field.
It is time to say farewell,
But it seems this place is
all I've ever known,
all I've ever seen,
all I've ever lived.
You were here; I can see your face.
It appears in my mind,
a wispy ghost,
where you've always been.
Yet, time has taken you away from here.
Your body is gone
beneath the country you loved,
your soul in a better place.
I can't believe you're gone,
but I can no longer find you here.
You'll never cross my life again.
All that's left is a fading memory.
So I stand here in this field,
trying to find you one last time,
searching for your head above the weeds,
hoping you'll hear me call for you,
wishing you'd come back home
and be here again.
And this wind howls,
weeping in its course,
never letting me forget you.
poetry |