I had a thread a long time ago, but it pretty much died since I wasnt contributing to it at all for a while. So I am going to try to stick with this one, updating it regularly.
I think I will start this new thread with a poem I wrote last week.
A blank façade Covers a complex painting Vast and solid Internally filled with riddles I cannot find purchase On its silky smooth surface But when I manage a handhold I will be face to face with her soul
This is a poem I wrote when I was in 8th grade. I entered a contest and was the only one in my middle school to win, and got my poem published in the Award Winning Young Writers of America 2009 Southern Region edition. Hope you all like it.
My Wish for the World
My wish for the world is simple: For people to be loving and kind, For peace in the place of war, Where friends are easy to find.
My wish fir the world is small: For intentions to be pure. But with robber and killers who become jail fillers, My wish may be hard to procure.
I wish for the world a day When everyone gets along A day to be happy, and focus on rights, Instead of anything wrong.
I wish for the world a time When we can gather in sweet tranquility, Away from the fights and stresses of life, And relax in our own serenity.
My wish for the world is not much, When given a little thought. My wish is very possible, If people would give it a shot.
Headlights A flash, a crash The tinkling of glass. A pressure on my forehead Blood on the dash. I fight the grey At the edge of my vision, But succumb to the pain Of this highspeed collision. The darkness fades, Turning to light. Is this The End? Should I fight? I feel a prickling on my back And my wings burst forth. Beautiful, downy, white and pure I face the staircase: Now I am sure. I ascended, My arms extended Prepared to go home. I cross the threshold. All goes dark. I give a shout No sound comes out.
I wake in the passenger seat Being alive has never felt so sweet. I tell my father I love him, he asks me if Im alright As his face is bleached by the approaching headlights.
Stagnant But Unsuppressed I lay in bed Staring at the ceiling Where is my inspiration? Why does my verse lack feeling? I write upon a whim To get things off my chest Sometimes there's nothing to write about But I try to do my best. Even when there's nothing obvious, There are always thoughts inside Things to rid myself of The things I need to hide. A lack of inspiration, A reason to confide.
These are fantastic and really inspire me to get back to my stories so much. The diverse styles, (including long and short) are really great ways to show the "all-around" sense of your poems and you.
Dreams A peaceful reprieve A dream of what couldnt be But what I wish was.
If this wasn't the style it was, to continue it, I would have probably finished it as : ....A dream of you and me.
...Yeah, yours sounds much better.
Your "Headlights" poem is great too. Very powerful and it really puts a very vivid and clear picture in your mind about what is really happening.
