Inspiration

Someday I want to make a book called InSpire where kids write poetry or stories to express themselves and what they think about the world, then bundle it all up together in one big novel and publish it, kind of like a wake up call saying, “Listen to what we say cause sometimes it has a meaning!” But anyway, today I got inspired and I wrote poems(please, if you don’t agree with me please tell me because I want to know)

Differences and Similarities–“Differences are just skin deep”

“When you turn out the light/Everyone looks the same.”

Then why do the black and white/Always have to fight?

Why do the rich and the poor/Hate one another even more?

Why are there so many cliques/Which with you have to stick

Even when what they’re doing is wrong?

Don’t try to act cliche/What is wrong with being different?

Originality’s a crime/Or at least in this world we live in;

Cause of race, fashion, gender/People walk by and stare

Why do so many people always have to care?

Get rid of super-glued groups/The Exclusion and the Sameness

You don’t need to be someone else/You don’t need to be famous

To stand out.

Numbers–Why does safety have to be in numbers?

Like the score/of a game/or the grade/on that test

Or the numbers/in your adress book?

Sometimes it’s nice/to be online/together with hundreds

Or thousands/or nine

Then why do people say ‘they’re all stalkers,’/don’t hang out with so many people

Isn’t that what they want you to do anyway?

Then there’s always that crowd/of maybe 4 or 5 or 6

That controls/all the other/numbers within it.

How is that ‘safe’ if you feel trapped?

If 3 is a crowd/too much comany, I mean/then what about 2?

What do you do/if you are one of those 2?

If that one can deny you/or break your heart/or stab you in the back

Unfortunately, maybe even literally?

When they drop your hand like grains of sand?

Here’s a thought–what would you do when–or if–

You were the one

Who let go

Of

His

Hand?

Season of the Winds

Or at least that’s what it feels like. Autumn is here, along with one seriously blustery day! Well, it has been for a week, but I decided to make a poem about fall. The pattern is AABB(enter)AACC.

Windy sight at morning gray

Keeps I, the traveler, close at bay

Summer of the mushrooms, fawns

For a time has been foregone.

Autumn is here, as the Spanish say:

Otoño. Now I pay the way

Of my journey-though not by sea

I go by land feeling pity––for me. . .

The wind picks up to my dismay

My mind is in a disarray

Dead scarlet leaves turn round, round, round

My heart is sinking down, down, down. . .

A river comes, and slightly I sway;

My body feels like molding clay.

On my own, I cannot make it;

as for storms, only prayers delay it.

As I barge through woods, an ignored trilling jay

Is the only one here who sees wind give way.

Suddenly I smell sweetness; like granny’s soufflé.

It is, actually, and I hear Granny say,

“You came, finally! It’s been all day!

Really, honey, you live just a block away.”

Yes, this hopeless, unclear, silly display

Was merely my outdoor overstay.

Now, let me go see that soufflé. . .

***Special thanks to rhymezone.com and whoever wrote “Over the River and Through the Woods”***

Math, Music, and Dragons (oh my)

Three poems by yours truly

Math

Math isn’t exactly fun

But my teacher said

Our class would write poems

About something

We don’t like, but

It does not have to rhyme

Even though

Kids are trying

To find something that rhymes with ‘asparagus’

And such.

Math is confusing

But I already know

The basics, like:

Adding, subtracting,

Thinking, logicing, calculatoring.

Yet I still have to learn

Equations and theories

Like hypoteneuse (what?)

And such.

But I’ll try to get this

Understand the derstandable

Then maybe

All this wierd

Such and such

Might come in handy for me.

Another Poem

Night Music

Cracking, creaking, groaning house

With noises, but still no sign of mouse.

Sometimes sits eerily, quietly still:

Silently frightening, enough to give chills.

Was that screech an owl, a bat, a car?

I can’t run away, or see very far.

Why is that haunted house so very near?

In the day, it seems fine. At night, it casts fear.

Why is there no light by my side in the night?

What illusion makes darkness give palpable fright?

Dawn must come sooner or later, I realize;

Then I hear the night music coming from outside.

Crickets and night’gales sing soft, lovely tunes

Subtle and enchanting, until up jumps the moon.

Some light is on my bed, and a song is in my ear.

I am relieved, but tired, and have nothing to fear.

Or so it seems. . .

For now. . .

Poem

Dragon

Puffs of smoke followed by

A stream of fire

Blow out a black nose

As evil narrowed eyes

Follow its victim

Into a death-scented lair.

The elegant silvery head

Emerges from water

Bursting sun-lighted scales

While the rest of a body

Trails on in swift silence.

Scaly wings carry

A green body topped by

A knight in shining armor

Which both fight valiantly

Against an oncoming army.

No one knows what it l0oks like

Or how it might act

Or even if it exists.

Well, I think so.

The mystery, the elegance, the might

Of the dragon

Is still a mystery to be solved.

Where The Red Fern Grows

This is a poem that I wrote, and people that have read the book Where The Red Fern Grows will understand it. Where The Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawlings is a story of a boy and his dogs, and love and loyalty. It is a well-written, touching book that I would reccommend to anyone.

Old Dan And Little Ann

Together Forever

By A Farm

And The Creek

They Lived By

For Such A Short Time

Atop A Hill

Where The Graves

Of Two Dogs Are.

That’s Them.

That’s Where The Red Fern Grows.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

I have decided to write a poem for every holiday chance that I get. This is a limerick that I can not take credit for, because my Grandpa taught me it:

There once was a writer named Paul

Whose poems were the best of them all

But try as he might

He never could quite

Make a rhyme for the last line of the poem

Good vs. Evil

 Here is a little poem that I have just finished. It is called “Choosing Chivalrous Choices”

Wakes up and opens its eyes

Exclaiming a gold, bright surprise.

Gives what he receives and always acts kind

Because he is good in soul and mind.

 

Glum and sinister, darker than ash

Scene that seems to cut like a gash

Shadowy eyes, a sign that isn’t pretty

Contained like an animal, but can never be pitied

 

One of these is good, the other full of evil

One is like an angel, the other like a devil,

Your final choice is the path you take,

You decide with all the choices you make.

 

Strive for the light lest you might

Turn away to the other side.

Stay on the path from dawn till night

Depart from the sadness into the light.