Poetry

 *When you are commenting, please mention which post you are commenting on.

Battle Cry 

 Author's note: This poem was inspired by the song "Kingdom Come" by The Civil Wars. I was listening to music, wondering how people write such good songs, so I decided to attempt it myself. That was way too hard, so I decided to make a parody of sorts, using an existing song, just different lyrics. It was much like copying the format of a poem. I also kept the same mood of the song, which was desperation.

 

Save, save, save your fire

No one to see war desires

Take us if you can but please leave us the child

The one so lovely and mild

Save, save, save the harm

Don't send troops to raise alarm

We have already given you our lives

Blood drips endless off your knives

You can make us fear

But you can never take our love

When the end comes near

We'll run

Save the day to come

Leave us to be cold and numb

A painful battle cry still rings through our minds

Darkness closely intertwines

You can make us fear

But you'll never take our love

And when the end comes near,

We'll run

We'll run, we'll run

You can make us fear

But you can't take our love

When the end is near

We'll run.

Save, save, save your fire

Save, save, save your fire

Dreaming...

Author's note: I got the inspiration for this poem from several National Geographic photos.I really like painting a picture in peoples' minds with poetry. My main focus is voice and word choice.

 

Tonight, I will dream;

Dream of a place
     that only I know

A place that,
      only with belief you can go

You will appear there
      with imagination

With every last hope
      in times of desperation

This land is 
     snow-capped mountain tops

it's shiny morning leaves
       and it's dewdrops

A refuge of 
     cavernous salty grottos

And the birds sing hymns 
     in smooth legato

Even the mighty
      seafaring rocks

Are perfect harmony
       with pelican's squawks

The grass by the wind
      sends a cool green caress

And also the leaves
     on the trees that they dress

When sunlight kisses
       every fruitful plane

As golden as the
       basking lion's mane

With pools so clear
       you can see to the bottom

Cool to the touch
      like air in the autumn

The everlasting sun
      for the long-lived summers

And the Earth opens up
      to the just-born new comer

The warm breezy air
      pours out from above

The freshness engulfing
      your body's a glove

Oh the gracious smells
      Of an awaited spring

Waft out to the hard working
      Insects that sing

Lay back on it's softened foliage 
     At the end of the day

And stare right back 
     At the moon's heavenly ray

With beaches stretching 
     Miles of pink sand

Millions of creatures 
     Inhabit this land

But while every other creature
      Of God appears

Not one human being 
      Will set their foot here

For this is a safe house 
     Of the light-hearted

A striving place 
     Where dreams will be started

A place with no pain 
     A place with no sorrow

A place where worries
      Can be pushed til tomorrow

So at the end of the day 
     When the earth goes to bed

That place will be missed
      That place in your head. 

   

Déjà Vu

Author's note: This poem came out of nowhere. I was doing my homework by a window and started thinking about things, specifically I was feeling Déjà vu.I thought about how  you can see some thing a million times, but each new time your experience it, other things have happened in your life so it feels different So this is a somewhat closed form considering the stanza lengths. I'm not working on anything in this, because it was spontaneous and just want to see what people think so please comment!

Looking out my window, to see what I've seen years ago,

Only different this time, so different.

For the last time I felt the same air, same aura

My life was much different: younger, naïve, less broken

Saw a bird flitter past in the distance,

Just a single, distant silhouette.

Used to see the shapes of many birds

In their unbroken pyramid, but still,

The sun rises, the sun sets.

I recall a day when I watched the sun rising,

Thought "One thing that will stay the same"

Every day since then,

I've watched it emerge

But different thoughts grace my mind.

Heard news the next day of a family's misfortune

A job lost, the times hard, things will change

Saw the same sunrise again and realized, whatever changes

The sun rises, the sun sets.

I've looked at this sky before, it seems

This filter, this color, this light

Felt the same sensation, same atmosphere

The only difference is

Everything else.

Watched an old favorite movie from when I was a child

Of a prince and beautiful princess

But sadness comes to me know, because I am no longer a child, though

The same sun rises, the same sun sets.

When I am blessed with these moments

I try to remember how things were,

But never again will be.

From when things were new and unknown,

To where more knowledge than wanted is present.

The neighbors have long since moved away

The grass has decided to grow

I now look at things through different eyes and yet,

The sun rises, the sun sets.

I recall a night when I looked upon stars,

Thought "They are the same as they've always  been"

One thing that will never change,

No matter how different I may be, is that

The sun rises, the sun sets.

Tundra to Desert

.

Author's note: I decided to try a diamante because I haven't done one in a few years, reason being I always thought there wasn't much to them, just a way to practice using descriptive words. I am focusing mainly on word choice.

Tundra

Cold, Empty

 Blowing, Freezing,Chilling

Ice, Snow, Sun, Skeletons

Burning, Drying, Blinding

Hot, Lifeless

Savannah

 Fish

Author's Note: Today I'm working on having my poem tell a sort of story, while it is still a poem. I'm going to be writing from a sea creature's point of view. I got the idea looking at pictures on the National Geographic website. Since I'm trying to tell a sort of story, I am mainly focusing on fluency of the poem. Also, I am trying to not use the word "I" or "my" because I feel that takes away from the poem, even though it is first person. I know it's kind of weird, but I wanted to try something new.

 

Floating, meandering, weaving through the thickets of seaweed

The cool water surrounding,

I Nibble off a bit of algae from a nearby rock

The taste is sweet, tangy

Sunlight up above is suddenly cut short

A giant shadow cast over

Closer

Closer

Closer

Ripples sent through the water

Something strange is touching my scales

Panic

Worry

Trapped

The lights getting stronger, hotter

Water is gone, disappearing

Until I am plopped down into a small, stinging jar

Every thing around is magnetized, bigger and brighter

Never so close to the light have I been

Nowhere to go, I swim

Bermuda Stars

Author's Note: I was recalling my recent trip to Bermuda over the summer. There was a particular night that I couldn't sleep, so I walked out on the balcony where we were staying and saw the most beautiful night sky that I ever had. I decided to write a free verse on it because I didn't want to restrict anything by having to make it rhyme--that and I was not in the mood for closed form. I am mostly focusing on word choice in this poem. Also, I tried to find a picture for this, but none of them did the real thing justice, so just let the poem paint a picture.I would also like to know if this is too short or not, because I sort of felt like it was.

Never have I seen stars more beautiful than in Bermuda.

Never bigger, nor brighter nor denser.

Twinkling down on you like admiring eyes.

Surrounding you-- like a blanket. Warm.

Late at night, all alone, serene.

Feeling so distant-- so far from life as you know it.

Stars that put the others to shame.

Leaving you mesmerized, hypnotized, at peace.

Lights that pierce your soul, and yet entertain your eyes.

Your in a paradise that you thought never existed.

Something more beautiful than any painting is right in front of your eyes.

Unnamed Haiku

Author's note: I've really been working on forcing my poems to have some sort of structure, rather than doing free verses all the time, so I chose one I was familiar with, the haiku. Basically, the only restrictions are that the form must be 5,7,5. Also, traditional haikus are about nature.

A small, running stream,

Opening to something  vast

Flat, far away sky

 Autumn

Author's note: This is my first poem of the school year, so it is not my best. I feel like it was written kind of awkwardly because I knew I had to write it, but I had to force my self to just start writing something. I'm mainly focusing on making it rhyme because that is usually the hardest part for me. I know that in the 3rd paragraph, mesmerized and side don't rhyme, but I was having difficulties.

Sitting in a cozy, quiet spot,

 You look out the window and see,

Against the wall of crisp blue air,

A single Autumn tree,

The summer's green is gone, now

Sights of yellow, orange, red

Falling slowly to the ground

Thoughts of winter fill your head

A picturesque scene, with the

Sun shining down from one side

Making it hard to look away

As you sit there mesmerized

The most memorable part of the year

Filling the heart with glee

But also a hint of sadness, for

It is one less Autumn you will ever see.

The First Snowfall

Author's note: I got the inspiration for this when I looked out the window in mid-November and it was already snowing! My main focus is painting a clear picture in people's minds. Originally I wasn't going to rhyme it, but I started writing and it just flowed, so I figured I could make it sound really frilly and girly because when it's snowing, it looks kind of magical. Also, say the very last word of the poem (again) in a British accent or it won't rhyme.

Little white specks,

drifting around,

But they're new at this business,

barely reaching the ground.

Cold in the air,

flakes wetting your face

Beautifully crafted,

Not a twinkle out of place.

Hopeful young children,

with dreams of a lot

but the skies cannot deliver,

several inches it will not.

Reaching the ground

and the end of their reign,

melting at touch,

but they just might come again.

Tragic Poem

Author's note: I thought it would be a neat idea to write a poem using the tragic mode of literature. The high point is when the main character thinks he can escape. I am also using a mix of tragic and ironic symbolism. I got my inspiration for this sort of plot/scene from the picture of "El Castillo de Suenos" hanging on the wall in academy. It is a free verse when it comes to rhyming, but I separated it in a pattern because I like things neat.

I am trying to find even a quarter of a clue as to where I am.

Being carried, in a coffin-like box.

I hear the thump thump of the creature carrying me.

All I can see is darkness.

Pain surging through me as I am dropped with a thud.

Fear, as the bx is pried open. 

I shiver when my first sight is two eerie glowing eyes staring at me

Red eyes.

I push into the side of the box.

With thoughts of anything else,

when I am grabbed by the hair 

and forced to sit up

To take in my surroundings would be  painful,

As I was in a room full of tools.

But not tools for building.

Tools for destroying.

Wait here. A voice, not mine, in my head told me.

I was frozen anyway.

The figure holding my hair releases and leaves the room,

Locking the door behind him.

I feel a chill.

A moving chill,

coming from my left.

There is a window.

I urge my muscles to help me get out of the box.

My limbs move me over to the wall.

Staring out of the window,

My jaw drops.

I am very high up.

Peaking over any tree,

or nearby mountain.

The woodland stretches as far as my eye can see.

It's winter, and it's cold

the snow capped trees blind me

somewhere in the protection of a fir,

a crow caws in mock.

The last thing I notice is the light.

There is a streak of pink in the horizon,

the rest of the forest is glowing from candle light emanating from the building I am in.

Twilight.

There is a ledge.

A small little ledge, that if I can get to it,

I can jump from there,

And find my way off this mountain fortress.

My fingers grasp the window sill,

Preparing to climb out the window.

But then I feel a hand.

A cold, cruel hand on my shoulder.

I turned and saw the eyes,

Closer than before.

Nastier than before.

Then the voice cackled.

Nice try, it said.