Category Archives: Poetry

My Brother Does This Too

Sometimes I get emails from my oldest brother, and often times they will look something like this:

“cleaning out the stuff from my office… found a poem, written in my handwriting, that I have no recollection of whatsoever… written on the back of a grad school rejection letter”

The road runs right through most of the

country. Sometimes

the cross streets come fast with red, yellow

and green lights

telling you what to do, their colors spangled

together with the rest.

Pre-interstate, this road has two lanes or four,

some lines

or none, pedestrians and crossing guards,

speed limits

in the sixties sometimes.

The road runs from the east coast, somewhere

in the middle, south for a while.

It gets to the big wide open parts quickly and

runs right off the side of the map,

as if tit was destined to claim half the world.

But most people just take the

interstate. This road manifests itself in

names: Main, Elm…

solid names.

It didnt’ have much neon, but that it did have,

it liked. There were some on the

gas station, and the bar. Here, they called it

Main. They wanted

to be left alone. That’s what I heard, anyway.

We never met.

-jkd

Always Beautiful

I knew a girl once,

who beauty killed.

She knew more about

looking, than feeling.

She’d been fat,

she’d been beautiful,

she’d been wanted,

she’d been scorned.

She bloomed like a flower,

and when the vase dried up,

she wilted.

A tenth grader who already felt

past her prime.

A tenth grader who was made to feel

ugly again.

Sucking on a malboro red,

windows down,

hair a mess.

Never ugly.

I remember the yearbook pictures,

reading like an age progression

for a girl who wandered off years ago.

She was called fat,

she was called beautiful,

she was wanted,

she was scorned.

She was beautiful.

If she could only see,

that she still is.

She still would be.

-dpd

Into the Sunrise

If you ask anyone around me

I am that girl,

The goody-two-shoes

Perfect down to every curl.

I’ve never broken curfew

Never done anything I should not,

I act how I’m supposed to

I even monitor my thought.

I’ve been called a teacher’s pet

And I guess I sort of am,

I answer every question

And ace every single exam.

However every so often

I get tired of the expectation,

The constant knowing looks

The adult’s admiration.

It is times like this

When the only thing to do,

Is to let it all go

And run in the dew.

To run like wind

And let the stress fly away,

To feel the burden lighten

And to keep the pressure at bay.

Heading into the sunrise

Into the early morning mist,

Is the best feeling ever

You must try it, I insist.

by lindsey.s

http://youngwritersproject.org/node/81367

Behind the Times

I still say my alarm clock “ticks”

and my beeping cell-phone “rings”

I’ll say to “roll” your window down

and other ancient things

 

You’ll tell me to “hang up” my phone

but there’s no cradle on the wall.

Should I dial “Oh” for Operator

and “Klondike 5” to call?

 

I should say “album” or “mp3”

but I’ll say “record” when it plays

tell me I’m behind the times

I like it best that way.

 

-dpd

Trying Too Hard

The bouquet of carnations was a little too red,

straining towards the light, trying a little too hard to be roses;

they smelled as sweet, but the lie was there.

I remember you gave me roses once.

I can’t remember why, but the intention was there,

I’m sure.

But I never liked those flowers:

They lived a little too long,

smelled a little too much like a late proclamation,

looked a little too beautiful after a week of neglect.

But the chocolates you gave me were lovely.

I didn’t eat them.

Perhaps I should have,

but I hate to get my blood sugar up.

I don’t want to get carried away as a result,

lest you think I’m trying too hard.

by DeathNoteMathChick

Eric and Ash

Here’s one selection from a series of narrative poems written by a new member of our writing community. She’s in 8th grade.

Night Terrors

by Kyrridwen

“Eric?”
The dark and the cold
wrapped around her waist,
chilling her to the very core.
“Eric!”
She whispered louder,
bare feet sliding
across
the hardwood floor.
“Eric, please wake up!”
She called, voice louder still
Trying to let him hear,
Over the creaking
Of the mill.
“Eric, don’t leave me here!”
She screamed
Calling out in fear.
She really shouldn’t
Ever
Have come here.
“Ash”
Came a creaking wall
Looking like
It would fall.
“Ash, please wake up”
Called the
support beams
Looking about to
bust their seams.
“Ash, baby, come back to me”
Cried an
Old, fallen tree.
“Eric, Eric! Is that you?”
“Please, please wake up.”
The world around her slim frame
Began to quake and shiver
The entire thing crumbled down
Burying her, light not a sliver.
A hand shook her shoulder bare
A new light began to glare.
A voice was calling
A voice so tender
Calling her back to the living
“Ash, shh… It’s ok now.
It was all just a dream.
Not need for you to fret,
No need for you to scream.
I’m here for you
I won’t ever go.
Ash, my Ash,
I love you so.”

Quietly, in the windy night
In the dark,
A girl had a fright.
Her lover came
By candle flame,
To scare the
night terrors
away.

See?

I was wondering if maybe you could

see me.

Do you? Can you?

I see your eyes

Like staring into an unlit window

There’s something inside, I know

There must be

But what is it?

Can you see me?

Do you?

Can you?

I think I can see you

I don’t think they can.

They see someone else when they look at you

And I know how that feels.

I just ask for the chance to

see you

and be seen.

dpd

weak

i’m surrounded
by bulletproof glass.
you can see me
but you can’t touch me.
you can’t get
inside my head
the way you want to.
you’ll never know
the things i don’t want
you to know.
you can’t shoot through
my walls
and you can’t
knock them down.
i won’t let you.
ever.
because if you did
then you’d see all
of my raw,
unprotected flesh.
you’d see how weak
i am
without my armor.
you’d see how
my blood pulses
just like yours,
and tears run
down my face
just like yours.
i’m weak,
just like you.
weaker, even.
and i’ll never
ever
let you see
my weakness.

by MissAmericanIdiot

The Dark’s Lullaby

Hello nighttime thinker
Please, go on to sleep
Do not lose yourself in the universe deep
Just listen to something besides your own fear
Like a wide, brown guitar
Or a sweet white tailed deer.

Oh please, pay no mind to the crude, hopeless cries
Of the people in cages, with loss in their eyes!
Yes, go leave behind all the suffering voices
Living mangled up dreams, and ugly, dark choices.

And don’t even think about how small you are
Beyond your little room, and your shiny new car,
There’s a fast-spinning world that is dying and living
And screaming, and twisting,
And never forgiving.

Oh wait, nighttime thinker,
Why are you still here?
Drift off to the lies that I tell you, my dear!
Why, everything’s lovely, and pretty, and nice!
So just go to sleep
Please don’t make me ask twice.

by clarahendersontsa

Read it on YWP

Taken from a Slam Poem

Every month we hold a poetry slam, and there are always bits of brilliance, like this one.

 

“He’s escaping her volcanic perfection because

they learned to run before they could walk

and they learned to scream before they could talk

learned love is revelation

and trust is shock

but they still didn’t know whether to knock

or just walk

in.”