5th
Grade, 1st poem ever.
Bring Forth Thee
Bring forth thee,
I say,
Bring forth thee.
Cower!
Before my blizzard and storm.
Cower!
Under my fire and wrath.
Beg!
For mercy from harm and torment.
Beg!
For mercy of thy family and soul.
Shout!
Out thy dreams and fears.
Shout!
Out of the darkened hole.
Bring forth and search
for justice ‘till the end of time.
Cower! Beg! Shout!
SHOW THYSELF!
Revised
versions of 6th grade poetry.
Truth and Justice
Noone can find it,
So why search?
Noone can see it,
So why look?
Noone can hear it,
So why listen?
These are the truths of truth.
And justice?
Can it be found?
or seen?
or heard?
Justice is oblivious
To us all.
Windows
STARING
they are blind
CRYING
they are dry
ASLEEP
they are awake
A WINDOW
a vast openness
NEVERENDING
but limited
Life
Life is a magnificent thing
a terrible
horrible
thing
It’s worth too much to buy
much too
cheap
to
have
Life
torments you
P U
L L I
N G Y
O U
left and right
I’d
hate
to
have
this
horrible
thing
everyone
calls life
8th grade Works
A Note From Your Secret Admirer
Love me;
If you should not,
for it is after your heart I sought
though I know it cannot be bought,
but then, if you should not,
You would be to blame,
and, not to my shame,
my excited heart
would give sudden start,
for from you it must part,
and my love is off the chart,
it would suddenly dart,
right out of my chest,
it would truly jump-lest
you loved me as I do know best.
If you should not.
It is after your heart I sought,
though I know it cannot be bought,
with grief, or shame,
oh!-
do you know my name?
I suppose
not.
Yet, true that I know,
that I love you so,
Yet I sit here and wonder,
and yet my mind does blunder,
as I sit here astunder,
“Do you love me?” my heart does wonder.
But, to my own shame,
you are not to blame,
for my excited heart,
from you it would not part,
and my love
is so high
off the chart.
As my heart is on fire
for you I aspire,
for it is you that I so admire.
From heaven above,
comes my sweet, strong love,
so ends the note
of your Secret Admirer.
I Have Often Sat
I have often sat and wondered
of how man has blundered,
of how God is so strong,
of how our ways are wrong,
or how birds have flown,
or how the wind has blown,
or how love does beat,
or how many cheat,
or how awesome is God,
or how man is so odd,
or how many have not just sat and wondered.
I have often sat and thought
about how man after God has sought,
of how we are in shame,
and how Cupid does aim,
or how rain beats a window pane,
or how many nights I have lain,
right, wrong, and in pain,
thinking, just thinking,
and having no inkling,
of how many people who have never just sat and thought.
9th grade Poetry
Dusk of Good/Dawn of Evil
In the twilight, an arrow flies,
Bringing death to Godly eyes.
A second goes through our love;
His evil foes laugh at Him above.
A moment too late the bird sees the shove;
And arrow through a bow ends the life of a dove.
Innocence, purity, love and Christianity
Die in the dawn; evil moves his pawn.
America
A day and a night and a night and a day,
Everything and anything going every way.
Someone knows noone did nothing wrong
Making this line a little too long.
Should she, says he, rhyming to far
And, yes, mother said get the dog out the car.
Samurai warriors, and spacemen, too.
Estados Unidos-a wonderful stew.
German, Irish, Gaelic, Jew,
Japanese, Chinese, Russian, too.
Spanish, French, Italian or Greek.
Norwegian and Scottish are not that meek.
Austrian, Finnish, Welsh, Portuguese,
Thanksgiving dinner; more turkey, please.
A day and a night and a night and a day;
All of the children come out to play.
Someone knows noone did nothing wrong
Will a world war end God’s good song?
Should she, says he, rhyming too far
The death of a friend, your life, will mar.
Samurai warriors, and spacemen, too.
Judeo-Christians won’t fight with you.
German, Irish, Gaelic, Jew
Many of them have simply no clue.
Spanish, French, Italian, Greek
The end of God’s love, you should not seek
Austrian, Finnish, Welsh, Portuguese
The days of our lives; yes, they are these.
A day and a night and a night and a day.
That is the end; there’s nothing to say.
Wave Bye-bye
Ten little fingers, long and slim,
Tiny little fingers-only ten.
A knife will slip and leave nine;
Eight are left by supper-time.
Fire burn and Cauldron bubble;
Heat makes seven without trouble.
Six and five are gone real quick.
They fall down; they won’t stick.
A gun will subtract down to four.
After three, only two more.
One of these two, the cold has made numb.
Now all we have is the one thumb.
Evil person makes the owner cry
As that thumb is killed; good-bye.
Ten little fingers, long and slim.
Tiny little fingers won’t grow again.
Walking Out
A tear ran down his cheek; this would end, somehow,
Somewhere, and sometime, but wasn’t over now.
They met one day, so long ago, and quickly became friends;
And for her, the world, he’d said, he’d walk to the far ends.
He wondered now, what she thought, and who she loved and why.
She didn’t stay quite long enough; and her coldness made him cry.
And once upon another time, that same girl, she said:
Before I’d hurt that little boy, I’d rather be cold and dead.
But she’s not dead, just cold, and with another man.
But someday they’d meet again: the mother and her son.
Pink Slip
She came in with clouded eyes,
Red and pink, like when she cries.
They’d lost their house; they couldn’t afford
To pay for their room and board.
Their kids into the orphanage sent,
Lest their lives on drugs they spent.
He could not keep a job;
And every night she would sob.
They had lost everything;
They’d even pawned her wedding ring.
Then one night, in the alley they chose
In each other’s arms they froze.
Again
As
I
sitandweepandcry
I
wonderwhythephoenixburns
and
theworldturnsandturnsandturns
whensuddenlyIspringfrommytears
like a phoenix from ashes
( ashes to ashes and dust to dust )
I
am clean and whole
again
(suchisthewonderofGod’slove)
to every season
(turnturnturn)
there is a reason foreverythingintheworld
And I
begin to cry
again.
Depression Leads To Suicide (And Other Obvious Statements)
I wonder
What does the cold
Angry
Blade of a knife feel
Like
On my wrists?
I’ve never felt it
And
I’m scared of the pain
It
Hurts too much
And also
What would a rough
Tough
Strand of rope feel
Like
Around my neck?
I don’t intend on
Having
One there soon but
I’m
So depressed.
And what
About going over
And flying off a cliff
Into
The dark night?
Do you really
See
Your life pass by
As
You fly (or would you pass out?)
It’s a really
Really
Really good thing I’m
Afraid
Of pain as
I
Walk
Down the steps
To
A
Horrible suicidal death.
A pit of despair.
Cold. Alone. Noone.
Can I kill myself?
Or will I be too afraid?
I’m scared.
Knife
Steel
Teeth
thatcutintomyskinormeat
Biting
Sharp
Cold
Angry
Dead
Hate
ifeelthepainanditsscary
Hate
Dead
Cold
Alone
Stiff
Self
nowimdeadandcold
Noone
Cares
Music
A haunting song
A melody clear
So far away
And yet so near
A flute, a pipe
An alien tune
And sadly it ends
All too soon
It tugs at my heart
It toys with my sould
Then it comes prancing
Like a year-old foal
It can be new
It can be old
But can it be bought?
Can it be sold?
The wind as it blows
Sings a new song
It carries the birds
As southward they throng
I hear it loud
I hear it sad
I hear it good
I hear it bad
When was it born?
When will it die?
Does it live?
Or simply fly?
I don’t understand
How it’s so beautiful
Or its secret
To stay so young and full
It’s one of the wonders
Of this Earth
Sad and lonely
Or full of mirth
It changes and twists
Or stays the same
I love it so much
Even its name
Music Music
Muh-yoo-zikh
Music Music
Click tap click
Wonderfully happy
Unpleasant sad
It can be good
It can be bad
A haunting song
A melody clear
So far away
And yet so near
Sketchworks
Slick bristles
shiny
soft
dip
into
paint
that is thick
and
wet
It’s
brown
and
shiny, opaque
It branches
out
and
makes trees
Green
that’s warm
lovely
leaves
on trees
or grass
on dirt
Sunshine is
yellow
translucent
pale and bright
at
the
same
time
how pretty
It
makes
a
lovely
picture
lovely shades
of brown
and
green
and
yellow
swirly
twirly
brush bristles
shiny and soft
asthepainting
un
folds
Verano
una brisa caliente
sopla a traves de me cara
no alivio del
calor
el arbol ofreca
no sombra
el perro
jadea
no alivio
somos
vamos a
freir
Rainbow
The rich warmth reminiscent of apples
Burns to a gleaming orb of bronze
S p i n n i n g t o g o l d
Slipping to grassy hues
Or watery dews
Or violets
Canvas
Why have I never noticed the unending blueness
Of the tranquil clear and open sky?
Or the lacy needle work of tree leaves and branches,
Too tiny and intricate for even a paintbrush to follow.
And the warm, dusty, gray-brown coolness
Of the earthy clean dirty soil.
Is the dribbling, glimmering, shining, flowing
Liquid coolness of water easily forgotten?
Or the golden powderpuffs of clouds
That melt and spin and shine?
Such wonders are these!
Such pleasures galore!
And all is only a part
Of God’s canvas-his creation!
reflections of myself
only a baby
no wonder why
i always feel
i have to cry
one year is gone
i soon can walk
and even sooner
i can talk
two years now
then three and four
by five i’m worthless
that’s less, not more
six and seven
and eight and nine
getting shyer
all the time
i’ve reached fifth grade
by year ten
said “misery
will be my end”
sixth grade comes
seventh, too
even in eighth
i feel blue
ninth grade here
i’m so depressed
with suicide
i am obsessed
not yet fifteen
i feel reborn
and sometimes
i’m still torn
i know God’s good
i know he loves
but life hurts
it pushes and shoves
i watch those younger
so young and pure
they make me feel
so immature
i wonder if
they love me still
(my family)
treat me like a pill
and so it comes
to an end
but God for me
love has no end
10th
grade Poetry
This was the year I decided I was going to write a hundred poems. I lost the entire collection, but here are many of the ones of which I still have copies.
Storyteller
I’ve swirled
and I’ve twirled
and I’ve spun
and I’ve done
so many
pirouettes and
spins.
I’ve leapt
and hopped
and I’ve skipped
and jumped
and twisted
while leaping
and flown
to the heights
of a
wooden floored
room.
It’s mirrors show
endless me
twisting and
leaping or
writhing and
creeping.
I
love
the journey
from beginning
to end of the
dance.
I can
soar over
the fear
and creep
below the
joy or
I can
fly on
eagles
wings
and the
grand
finale comes
I go
fasterandfaster
fasterandfaster
fasterandfaster
and it’s
over.
The curtain
is down.
I bow.
The Eagle
She’s weeping.
Her children
hate themselves
and each other.
She’s bleeding.
Torn by an
inner war
between her beliefs.
She’s scornful.
There is no
understanding
or intelligence
inside her house.
I feel misery.
For her and
her kind-
they have been left
to fend for themselves.
They cannot support
nor can they be
supportive.
I am sorrowful.
She is like
dust in the wind-
only to be blown
away as we pass.
Big Brown Eyes
Like pools of chocolate,
their semi-sweetness,
their rich darkness,
the warmth I see flowing within,
fills me with delicious joy from head-
to toe.
Like a deep pond of muddy unclarity
the frank mystery
that lurks in them
draws me deeper and deeper in-
I am over my head and drowning;
but I don’t want
out.
Like those of a beautiful horse
wild, reckless,
but free!
They enthrall me with a sense of
hope and daring;
and I dare to ask:
shall I dare on?
Ah! but the hope and dream
of stable warmth and sure love
I think I shall-
dare on, that is.
Thunderhead
Torrents shimmer down
and sleet may be curdled soon
in the violet clouds above me.
Their purple hue startles me
as does the clash of thunder
and the splash of lightening
that came before the former.
I wonder for whom the hammer saws
and who the nails are pounded for.
God is making a casket;
I hope it doesn’t fit me.
Little streams become rivers
and rivers go running
downhill to turn into flooded plains.
There is a funnel cloud in the distance
but it refuses to touch down
and the river threatens to spill over the
levee
but for now we are safe
in our little trailer.
Good Night
there is a quiet silence
i can hear the solitudeness
of my soundless environment
there is a black darkness
i can see the nothingness
of my sightless area
it is night
and there are no
senses of my brain
working properly
i can’t see any of the noises
i can’t hear any of the movements
of my surroundings
i hope i can fall asleep
in time to be saved
from the boogeymen
of the lightless quietude
Anger
It grips me by the neck;
chokes tears and redness into my eyes;
a cold icy wind blows down my back.
My emotions are a rollercoaster;
misery is its best and closest friend;
I am fried and frozen by turns.
There is truly no explanation;
it is not comprehendible by anyone;
and in it I am forever lost.
Brevity
For a brief moment I
think I
caught your eye
a smile a glance
an understood telepathic
(or not)
message
conveyed our thoughts
our desires
and suddenly
the moment
was over and
the candle was snuffed out.
Baby’s Breath
So tiny
the little explosions
they aren’t even fully open
seemingly
When will they burst
into a full bloom
Do they simply stay there
and die in tiny
popcorns
like a little bit of wadded up lace
that has been
unraveled and raveled again
tiny stiff green necks
hold up their ashamed cotton ball heads
how accentable
they complete
the proudness of velvety
blooms that are haughty
with pride
One day
the lace will pour out
into a giant
blanket that overly rivals
the velvet rose.
I am a Butterfly
I am a butterfly
to all extents
my bright colors shout
Play with me!
and I dance and giggle in the breeze
You may chase me
as I flit from
tree to grass to flower to air to dirt to
stem to leaf
and back again
I dart right past your nose
and soar high to the orb of golden dripping
sun
until my spirit
flies down again to tease you some more
what a wonderful
little sprite! you may exclaim
but don’t catch me
please!
the instant you hold my essence
in your hands
I will whither and crumble
and be bruised
I will fly away again
but not this time on my own wings
for you hold them
my whole shell
dying
in your rough hands.
You shouldn’t have caught her!
the birds will scold
the wind and rain will mourn
for the life
of a poor me
who can’t live because of
your ignorance
I was a butterfly
but don’t weep now!
I will rise again
your children’s children
will chase me
as I am born anew
under starry nights
and liquid sun
and they will giggle with me
and we will play
hide-and-go-seek
and I shall
forgive your unknowingness
when you warn
your children
and their children
not to catch the butterflies
and we will be happy
on God’s breath we will
dance together
at picnics and on
summer days
and one day
you too will want to chase me again
and we will giggle
and laugh
and we will both be butterflies
Omega and Alpha
I saw a sunset once
all purply-black and blue at the edge
kissing the treetop horizon
with bright pink all rosy
a promise to return
I saw a sunset once
glorious golden yellow dripping down
covering one side of the world
with yellow quicksilver all drenching
a blessing that was praise.
Once upon a time
I saw the sunrise
through the ghostly fog, breaking it up,
dissolving it into a new
day.
Compostition of Verbals
to live
to live is to love
and to love is to languish
and to languish is to perish
and to perish is to die
and if loving is languishing
is perishing is dying
and loving is living
then living is dying
to live
to live is to love
and to love is to know
and to know is to own
and to own is to keep
and if loving is knowing
is owning is keeping
and loving is living
then living is keeping
to live
to live is to love
and to love is to die
and to die is to keep
the love of your life
close to yourself
forever and always
because dying is keeping
is loving is living
Fallen Autumn
after the long hot
of summer
i can finally
feel autumn
fall of hot
fall of fruit
ripe from branches
thick with fruit
falling
falling
falling leaves
blind heat
gone
falling with the apples
apples gone
pumpkins now
present pumpkins
pompous pumpkins
popping profusely
pumpkins
purple nights
orange and gold
falling
shimmering down
when you accidentally
hit
the tree
with daddys
football
falling
but i got
it
falling down
in a tumble
rolling in
the leaves
tumble bumble
bumble bees
hide from
the gold leaves
protecting
gold honey
pods
pies of
gold
pumpkin
pumpkin pie
falling off the
counter
falling
lovely
golden mush
mopped up
thrown out
outside
squirrels
hunt for
acorns
on the
fallen leaves
falling
from trees
golden
purple
red
orange
brown all
crispy
fallen leaves
dead leaves
fallen
old pumpkins
old leaves
old football
old me
fallen
fires
warm and toasty
in the
fireplace
lovely
golden flames
flaming
fallen
flames of gold
on the floor
fallen
gold
fallen
flaming
fiery
tree leaves
ghosts of
halloween
drift
among the
fallen
fallen
fallen
leaves
fallen
autumn
Tears
I cannot understand it
No matter how hard I’ve tried
Why has God allowed women
To be able to weep and cry
What’s the point of weeping
When we have so much
We cry at a hat’s dropping
As if our heart’s were crushed
What’s the meaning of tears
If nothing’s really wrong
We seem to be sad from joy
If we hear a pretty song
I cannot understand it
No matter how I’ve tried
Why God allowed women
To weep and to cry
The Last Rose of Autumn
It really is
A sad story
To tell.
However,
It’s not a very
Long tale.
Remember
Those heated days
Of June?
Well, they’ve ended
And not at all
Too soon.
July came
And August
Passed away.
September left.
October will
Decay.
You and I
Can both
Feel
The breath of wind.
It is
Quite chill.
I was walking
And then
I saw
The velvet red
Mark of
Summer’s paw.
Dew dropped,
Death tinged,
And so bright,
It reminded me
Of summer’s
Plight.
I smelt its
Fading lovely
Scent
Before its
Lovely life
Was spent.
Bring out your tears!
And cry your
Woes!
For this was
The very
Last rose.
The Serpent’s Folly
It’s nasty,
really.
What God has done
to women.
Pain in childbirth.
I look forward
to
it not.
Is it a
heinous joke?
An evil trick?
Is this why
the serpent
made
Eve
eat the apple?
Apple a day keeps the doctor away.
We
will crush
that evil
creature
who gave us
this curse.
Q & A
Will anyone cry if I die?
Will the sky up above lose its dye?
Will all of my friends soon come to no ends?
And will anyone cry if I die?
No, they won’t cry if I die.
No, the sky will stay the same sky.
My friends may or may not have no ends,
But no one will cry if I die.
The Price of Things
Did you pay for your whistle?
Benjamin Franklin did so.
He paid too much for his cheap little toy
When he was quite young, you know.
Did you pay for your food?
I know your parents did so.
They paid so much for a bit of some chow
When they were quite old, you know.
Did you pay for the world?
Jesus our Saviour did so.
He paid so much for all of our lives
Because He loves us so.
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