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 Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:38 pm
My english teacher had us all go outside today and sit in the sun and just write whatever we wanted. I wrote poems. 3nodding Here they are. sweatdrop
They're mostly free-verse, because I find those more fun. The hidden rhythms in a free-verse poem bring as much joy to me as finding the hidden poems in life. wink
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:43 pm
breath
cool shade, warm sun, the dark green undersides of the leaves of the tree
the brown-green moss on the bark
It looks so soft despite the warm rough texture I know will meet my back when I lie against it.
I want to look up into the foliage.
Dappled – I love that word – the shade is dappled shadows, the sunlight filtering through the tree’s fingers and turning the world gold and green.
The blue sky is its own world
its own color
barely visible through the leaves
worlds away
dimensions away
as I lay back and fell the warm golden sun and cool green shade on my skin
and the universe is all here with me
warm and cold and green and gold and breathing
just breathing
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:44 pm
The shadows of leaves fall on other leaves and dapple them,
light and dark and lighter green.
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:45 pm
Mother trees dream
Of little children
Climbing their branches
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:46 pm
I can see the wind
lifting the branches
It touches my cheek
as though I, too, am a tree.
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:48 pm
Single spot of gold
A dandelion in a sea of lush grass
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:50 pm
The tall grass folds back to make a bed around me
The blue falls up and away,
I’m dizzy
My feet are numb from lying still,
but I don’t want to move yet
This is my dream
and it’s beautiful
and no one can find me here
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:52 pm
The grass looks like a soft, lush carpet, but I know better.
The green blades p***k my skin
I don’t care
They’re just saying hello
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:53 pm
With my fingers I firmly grasp the stem and lift until its golden face can once more see the sun.
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:55 pm
Writer, laying in the grass, her hair falling in her face to shade the pristine paper from the sun even as it fills with words.
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:56 pm
Golden
Blazing
Orange
Red
Yellow
Sun
Burns my back without touching
soothes my face and
makes the wind blow
The sun must be full of poems, for only words have such power over me.
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 12:59 pm
little bug
black
so small
can’t fly yet
keep trying
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 1:00 pm
The grass is a forest
Full of life
A bustling city
The blades are towers
The leaves, plazas
We ignore this beautiful city
Only because we believe it beneath us
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 1:01 pm
Those were posted in the order they were written.
sweatdrop Sorry if they suck...
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Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 1:20 pm
NadethTaurent The grass looks like a soft, lush carpet, but I know better. The green blades p***k my skin I don’t care They’re just saying hello Aah! It says 'p r i c k', as in like a needle or something sharp. sad It's not a bad word... I don't know how to make it not say p***k... This really messes with a poem... A poem relies on using grammar and punctuation in specific ways, usually irregular. If out of nowhere, there's *, you'd expect there to be a meaning behind it, not just a computer mistaking if for a different meaning. sad
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