I hope you enjoy this.  During english at school, all the teachers I've ever had have done a poetry unit.  Here is a small sample of the poetry that I have written.  I hope you enjoy it.

Olivia

Olivia

I think the world is cruel, that people don’t care, we’re all dying inside.

I feel the hate of everyone, fear from the unknown, pain for those hurt.

I am a stone in the river, a leaf on the wind, myself.

People see me as a librarian, an intellectual student, an overachiever.

I look at these people and say I’m sorry you think that, I’ve alwyas been this way, so what.

People who really understand me know I’m complicated, my feelings are true, nothing at all.

I am a stone in the river, a leaf on the wind, myself.

I wish the world would care, people would be nice, I could understand myself.

But I realize man doesn’t care, people won’t care, I will always be me.

I hope there will one day be peace, people will start to care, I won’t feel so lost.

I am a stone in the river, a leaf on the wind, myself.

Someday I will travel the world, meet new people, change lives.

Until then I can wish for a better world, try to make people better, be true to myself.

I believe the world doesn’t have to be cruel, people can change for the better, life is not so bad.

I am a stone in the river, a leaf on the wind, myself.

Emotion Poems

Joy is alabaster.

It smells like roses.

It tastes like sugar.

It sounds like wedding bells.

It feels like sunshine.

It looks like children laughing.

Joy is a magical place laden with gifts.

Passion is sanguine.

It smells like vanilla and spices.

It tastes like dark chocolate.

It sounds like Granuaile’s Dance.

It feels like kissing.

It looks like fire.

Passion is a burning love.

The Wizard of Oz... My Version

I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore

Because Auntie Em is such a bore.

I don’t think we’re in Kansas ToDo

Does this mean we can go?

I followed the yellow brick road

And got a feeling that didn’t bode.

I followed the yellow brick street

And found a scarecrow who’s neat.

We entered a dark and dreary wood

With a feeling of being watched, that wasn’t good.

We entered a dark and dreary place

To find a tinman with a different face.

Lions, and tigers, and bears, Oh my!

We met the cowardly lion on the way by.

Loins, and tigers, and bears, Oh dear!

Why does the witch have to leer?

We made it to the Emerald city

And were pampered and made pretty.

We made it into the Emerald metropolis

Then were sent on another quest.

We killed the Wicked Witch of the West

And were treated kindly by the very best.

We kill the Wicked Witch of the mountains

I’m surprised we weren’t carved into fountains.

There’s no place like home

I wonder what’s to come of my new comb?

There’s no place like home

Now Auntie Em won’t feel all alone.

Faerie Poem

Every spring the faeries sing

Listen and you will hear

Their sweet song carries on

Trying to draw you near.

But drift too close, to this musical host,

And my friend I do fear,

Entranced you will be, lost in reverie

Until the spring of next year.

Haiku

The flowers come up

To frolic in the warm wind

They say it is Spring.

When dew covers all

The Sun’s warm heat arises

To greet the cold Earth.

Senryu

The tree slowly cries

As water rolls off the leaves

And fall to the ground.

The sun sets slowly

Upon a shining sea

And watch it turn gold.

Diamante

Ocean

Moist, warm

Chruning, rising, crashing

Blue waves; yellow sand

Expanding, frightening, killing

Dry, barren

Desert

All Hallow's Eve

This was a poem that I wrote for Halloween

Skeleton bones

Locked in stones

Creatures black

From ages back

All ye ghosts and ghouls I call

Bring your riends and come play all

But since ye be here to mischief make

Ye consider tricks a piece of cake

But only twenty-four hours may ye stay

Then ye go back from whence ye came

Come the night ye leave

Shall end the night of All Hallow’s Eve

All But Bright

This was written the Christmas after my Grandmother died.  I was slightly depressed when I wrote it, so it is slightly sad and depressing.

On the street are all the houses

Bright with lights for Christmas

They are filled with merriment of songs.

But at the end of the street is a house

That is all but bright.

On the inside of the house

Is a family poor and small.

There is no merriment of songs

Only gloom covering all the rooms

That are all but bright.

And in one of those rooms

Was a small child.

Who has never known of songs

He only knows his name.

His room is all but bright.

Out in the bigger room

Is a mommy and a daddy.

All the boy hears is her screams.

All the mother feels is the father’s wrath.

Their life is all but bright.

When the front door slams shut

The boy knows he is alone.

His mommy and daddy gone forever.

He will never look on them again.

His eyes are all but bright.

He lays his head down on rags

Hoping for sleep without hopes of waking.

He shuts his small eyes

And darkness takes him.

The house is all but bright.

The house is empty for several hours,

No one knows what happened.

The neighbors called the police

To come to the house

That is all but bright.

When the police finally arrive

It is too late.

All they find is a small child

Who died sometime in the night.

Their eyes are all but bright.

When no family arrives

The police clear the scene.

They make all the arrangements

And find him a place to rest

That is all but bright.

They laid him in a corner

With an angel above him.

He now lays in his final bed

In a small cemetery

That is all but bright.