Comparison Poem
More desirable than the tender taste of angel food cake
topped with divine enjoyment and delicate pleasure
making every moment encountered worthwhile
Smothered with bliss and satisfaction
the experience is always memorable
delightful and pleasing—
That’s you Maria, my mother, and best friend.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
In the spirit of Whitman
I sing of the last time I went rafting;
of the big blue waves, clear but dark
crashing lightly on the tree trunk bark.
My friends and family sit beside me,
Only one more guy and he is right behind me.
I sing of riding waves that throw your guts;
Very high and very low,
The waves go everywhere until they mellow.
They move from the right and the left,
My stomach starts to get a little upset.
I sing of getting wet and drying off;
The wave hits the rock and splashes you,
It comes in the boat and get in your shoe.
Your hair, pants, shirt, and your face,
Everything is wet like you are running a race.
The man is pretty nice but very strict,
For he has to be my life is in his hands.
He shouts out calls that mean left and right,
Here comes the rock it is in close sight.
It is up to you to read the sign,
For it is you that is walking the line
of the big blue waves, clear but dark
crashing lightly on the tree trunk bark.
My friends and family sit beside me,
Only one more guy and he is right behind me.
I sing of riding waves that throw your guts;
Very high and very low,
The waves go everywhere until they mellow.
They move from the right and the left,
My stomach starts to get a little upset.
I sing of getting wet and drying off;
The wave hits the rock and splashes you,
It comes in the boat and get in your shoe.
Your hair, pants, shirt, and your face,
Everything is wet like you are running a race.
The man is pretty nice but very strict,
For he has to be my life is in his hands.
He shouts out calls that mean left and right,
Here comes the rock it is in close sight.
It is up to you to read the sign,
For it is you that is walking the line
Monday, November 2, 2009
series poem
A perfect day can be destroyed by the most frivolous things— Waking up late and conveniently having a bad hair day,
Running late to school on the day of a test in first hour,
Losing your pencil right before creative writing class,
Discovering the project you thought was due Thursday, is actually due Tuesday,
And most the time, once your day starts to go downhill, it keeps going downhill!
Running late to school on the day of a test in first hour,
Losing your pencil right before creative writing class,
Discovering the project you thought was due Thursday, is actually due Tuesday,
And most the time, once your day starts to go downhill, it keeps going downhill!
It was a dark and story night...K.N.
It was a dark and stormy night when the fate of a whole dynasty was about to be destroyed. Thunder overpowering the castle like a piercing freight train, vivid lightning bolts flashing every 20 seconds, just enough to light up the highest window on the tower every time it struck. FLASH! There she stood, the princess of the throne, staring out the window with her dejected eyes, and mislead heart. Her left hand was fisted, and placed over her chest. In her right hand, she clenched onto something, but her lifeless arm dangled next to her insensitive body. Tears seemed to slowly crawl their way down her colorless face. The sight lasted but nearly a moment, and then disappeared back into darkness. FLASH! There she stood again, but this time, her right hand was positioned under her chin, parallel to her deadened eyes. The reflection of the lightning glistened off the jagged blade that was steadily pressed against her throat. She had finally had enough.
More Life is ... but probably not in the fast lane!
Life is a magic show,
Illusions and surprises
from all angles.
Now you see it--
now you don't!
Smoke and mirrors
How much is really real?
I can't wait for the next trick!
Life is an amusement park
full of bright lights
and tantalizing smells.
Then the bottom drops out
as events rush toward the void.
Where will I be tomorrow?
On top of the Ferris wheel swinging madly
Or careening into the sinister tunnel of oblivion?
Life is a spelling bee
Sometimes you get the picture
Sometimes you don’t
You ask and ask to have it repeated
But still a cloud of confusion.
Hopefully the dictionary
Holds the meaning of tomorrow.
Life is a picnic basket
Packed with delectable delights
Spread on a cozy blanket
Beneath the deep shade of a sheltering oak,
And then the ants
Come marching one by one.
Illusions and surprises
from all angles.
Now you see it--
now you don't!
Smoke and mirrors
How much is really real?
I can't wait for the next trick!
Life is an amusement park
full of bright lights
and tantalizing smells.
Then the bottom drops out
as events rush toward the void.
Where will I be tomorrow?
On top of the Ferris wheel swinging madly
Or careening into the sinister tunnel of oblivion?
Life is a spelling bee
Sometimes you get the picture
Sometimes you don’t
You ask and ask to have it repeated
But still a cloud of confusion.
Hopefully the dictionary
Holds the meaning of tomorrow.
Life is a picnic basket
Packed with delectable delights
Spread on a cozy blanket
Beneath the deep shade of a sheltering oak,
And then the ants
Come marching one by one.
Time Travel Poems
I used to be a nerd,
Doing all my homework and never missing a minute of class.
Now that I an older,
I do my work but have learned to have fun while doing it!
Before I knew her,
I thougth she was just another high school girl.
But now that I know her,
I could never do it without her!
Doing all my homework and never missing a minute of class.
Now that I an older,
I do my work but have learned to have fun while doing it!
Before I knew her,
I thougth she was just another high school girl.
But now that I know her,
I could never do it without her!
"It was a dark and stormy night..."
“It was a dark and stormy night; the girl stumbled and slipped along the wet walls of the dark ally, searching for the next dumpster to rest on. The fog grew thick like white walls were being put up on all sides of her, hearing the splash of her left leg stepping into the black water puddle and the helpless slide of her right foot dragging slowly behind her. Drunk and incompatible her father (a drunken crack dealer in the back roads of New York City) bat his daughter daily. Searching for the closest item his dirt brown hands came upon the hammer. Finally she fell, not to get back up again flat dented sings of heavy blows to the face appeared everywhere.
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