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 Posted: Thu May 20, 2010 6:10 pm
Write your own personal poems here.
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Posted: Sun May 30, 2010 8:34 am
RUN
Little ones laughing and playing
You wouldn’t know they’re waiting
Waiting for the time to come
Though I wish it not be done
I too will join them
I look at him
The clock strikes ten
Heads swerved towards the men
Smiles still on their faces
Not knowing of the chases
Chases that are beginning
We all began standing
Hesitantly I went over the plan
Suddenly the little ones ran
No time to think
I felt so weak
Slamming into the men
Jumping over the pen
Alarms went off
Holding back a cough
As the room began to burn
I made a wrong turn
Run through fire or not
Either way I’ll get caught
Then there was nothing but despair
Only if life was fair
Caught
Many didn’t make it
I fell like a dim wit
A man yelled
He’s glad we failed
But he’s angry we tried
I need to hide
All the little one cried
He lied
He said will be out
Now I doubt
I’m a dope
We’re going back
To their pack
Where they put tube in us
And cuss
They say we should do what they say
But I don’t want to lay
Lay like his brother
Who does nothing other
I want to move around
And fell the ground
I want to see straight
This really can’t be my fate
I’ll find a way
I’ll get away
Boat
We didn’t have names
Not even the dames
We have tags
And we wear rags
They think we are nothing
But we are anything
A white coat
She is in the same boat
She doesn’t want us here
I can always see a tear
She says she has a little one
that is sweet and fun
She may be a white coat
But we are in the same boat
She talks softly
And about molly
She once showed me a scene
It even gleam
The white coat without the coat holding
holding a little one folding
She says there is a land where it green
No walls or roof and no fien
She will help us
And will not make a fuss
We will leave this place
Without a trace
Happening
Screams eco through the halls
Finger nails stuck in walls
Little ones laying still
The do not feel
They do not
The can’t feel hot
They can’t scream
Hey just dream
White coats don’t touch them
Not even Kim
My first friend here
But no one care
I’ve been here for all my life
Only if I had a knife
Then I could win
Then I could play kick the tin
Sometimes I wonder
If I or any little ones has a mother
What exactly are we
What reason are they doing this to me
It’s time to find out
Without a doubt
I plan in the shadows
Thinking about ‘meadows’
Ready to over turn this hell
Ready not to fail
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Posted: Sun May 30, 2010 8:59 pm
My best poem, imo: (It's very Billy Collins; kudos for anyone who can pick out why.)
Character
His story from my mind spins endlessly,
Adventures chronicled by my
Quick hangs pecking or swift pen scritching on
Blank pages where his life is stored,
Kept in lost notebooks and quiet hard drives.
His courage and fear ring true there,
Where I engineer his hardship and joy;
His fortune in my caring hands—
But his fate is often cruel or hapless;
Does this mean his tale is not mine?
Perhaps he spins his own story from his
Own mind; Not my invention but
A live creature of thought and fantasy,
Having adventures as I seem
To create them for him to wander through.
In fact, he might create my tale,
Providing insight into my own self,
Even as he fights evil kings.
Which sounds like a Chuang Tzu quote I once read—
But is he the dreamer or I?
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