I Cannot Write A Poem


I cannot write a poem,
poems are too hard,
poems are too complicated.

I cannot write a poem,
about a beautiful day on a warm and sandy beach.
I cannot write a poem,
about how the jet-black raven silently stalks its prey.

I cannot write a poem,
poems are too long,
poems are too confusing.


I cannot write a poem,
about walking through woods on a snowy evening.
I cannot write a poem,
about fishing.
the entire thing is too boring.
I cannot write a poem,
about fishing.

Until,
I get a bite and start reeling it in.

by: P.H.

The Perfect Person

What would the perfect person be like?
Short to run fast,
or tall to jump high?
Fat to be a food tester,
or skinny to fit through tight spaces?
I prefer fat and tall.
Would a smart person be perfect for school?
Or a dumb person for jokes?
A dumb person is definitely better.
What type of songs should he like?
Rap, Rock, Pop, Metal, R&B, or Hip Hop?
I think Rap and Rock.
Which artist would suit that perfect person since he likes Rap and Rock:
Lil Wayne or Kid Rock?
Lil Wayne would be a perfect choice.
Would the perfect person have a name that starts with J and last name S?
Or starts with Q and last name T?
A perfect person would have J.S. as initials, though.
Maybe that perfect person is Me.

by J.S.

Beat

By J.D.

My heartbeat is off the charts,
doctors don’t know what’s wrong.
Feels like I’m in an everlasting marathon,
moving to the beat of that new song,
trying to beat my cocky competitors.

In the end, I feel I’ve been beat up,
bruises all over the place and aches so unimaginable.
My heartbeat isn’t beating,
more like pounding out of my body.

Don’t have a pound to know what’s wrong.
The pounding of feet on concrete, surely a race.
A race for time not in my grasp
and at last the time is gone, one last gasp.

My heart keeps pounding ‘till it starts beating
Beating. Beating… Beating
‘till the beating gets beat out of me
and at last the beat
is dead and gone.

Whatever Comes To Mind-
(Thanks to Mr. Costello; for telling me to write ‘whatever comes to mind [: )

apple. pen. carmex. annoying. talk? STOP!
Maybe this should be a game.

paper. pencil. glasses. words, no? MORE!
Maybe this should have it’s own patent.

whole. dirt. grass. house. window. deer. rich? YOU!
Maybe I’m just a fool, bored at school.

no. i’m. not. yes. you? are!
Maybe I can’t be bored, this is fun!

entertain. friends. aim. type. now? YES!
Maybe school is cool … very cool.

hot. sun. summer. chlorine. nappy? HAIR!
Maybe this is a great way to kill boredom.

pen? again. lines. shapes. school. cool.
Maybe this can actually be a poem.

word. ponytail. dumb. slow. ears.
Maybe a poem that’ll make it far—Like published & Everything.

lens. are. pen. again. again. clumsy.
Maybe be published w\ other great poems.
& Maybe this poem wasn’t just a waste of time,
Just whatever came into my marvelous mind :)

BY: Jasminaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Another Advil

F*** with your mindstate, your state of mind,
tell someone you love them, but don't waste your time.
Fight for what love and live for true pain,
found in a lead pool, blood thicker than water, just let it rain.
Empty... a clock with no tic, a world with no time,
paint a picture with words cause those eyes are still blind.
Living in total war and little peace,
manufacture more guns and love at the very least.
My pain, your love, your guilt, my curse,
progressing backwards taking every step in reverse.
Opression my mind concieves,
talk about love, respond with disbelief.
Trade love for pain, hand me some gunpowder and I'll give my rose,
stand for a cause, in order to stand I need my toes.
A heartless mind, a mindless heart,
record my life, but stay off the chart.
On leveled ground, nope... my roots dug beneath,
live like me, still in pain, another advil, but no relief.
Add fuel to the fire, cross blades with grief,
digest your food mechanically without your teeth.
A gun without a bullet, a master with no maid,
believe a woman gave birth, but didn't get laid.
I took an advil and pursued a world I could not gain,
my world's confused, I hide my love, so feel my pain.

But Why Should he?

Engrave my words in your heart and place them on your tombstone
love arose in the morning like the marrow in my bone.
Thick is my blood, dark is the night, that morning never came
study me like a playbook because you know we playing the same game.
Hate arises when I awake
take a step you must not take.
Call yourself truth but a secert still lies
one angry heart grows and that new life still dies.
Correct my ways but mistaken are yours
that those eyes do watch behind those closed doors.
Flowers bring joy to mothers but death brings guilt to me
I've replaced the unknown, he that has no memory.
Cast the 1st stone that your heart is still dry
hold back in silence but behold that new life still crys.
yes I am angry but what love has loved me?
put on some clothes but what clothes has clothed me?
Who have you loved that hasn't loved thee?
I would die for your love but why should he?

My life Instead

Disaster struck and it hit me once more
a gun clocks a bullet but what does my heart endore?
Brickstone anger, I'm built for tough
simle at me, but frown on your backside, your love ain't enough.
Why hasn't love found me, my bloodshed lost
another angry pulse F*** love at all cost!
Why simle... love has no face
ashamed of what, call it a burden you didn't want me in the 1st place.
I can only tell you i mean you no harm
that everyday I carry him and embrace him in my arms.
don't ask me to love, love ain't real
need no comfort its my betreated blood that gives me the power to heal.
So i ask you, what is your love just test your love?
cold blooded murder in the eyes of the above.
God forgive us for our deadly sins...
but me, hate me, I give my blood for he who dares to love him.
My heart skips a beat but only for the dead
because he's innocent and that life that lays should of been mine instead!

Self-Portrait

In your eyes,

I’m a princess,

young and beautiful,

born and raised in a city of monstrous mills,

which were alive, and

admirably standing

overlooking the rivers,

holding down the history

of a vibrant city.

Once hardworking and as efficient as
A black hawk.
Now dead and barren
but they are not forgotten.

I came from a palm tree,
planted in beautiful Quisequeya.
Where the sky is always a light shade of royal blue,
filled with juicy mangos and
and the trees are bearing their children of
green plátanos and ripe aquacates.

I’m a campesina
in the campo.
Picking certain cherries,
bold and big,
the ones that hold the key
to the chamber,
locked and put away.

I am a star,

millions of m i l e s away,

that struggles,

but manages not to be outshone.

Trying so hard to illuminate

the sky.

Hidden in my world
deciphering right
from wrong,
the one that only
I
understand.

By: Audris T

That Kid

The born baby
Proud parents
Grandparents sad behind the glass
Parents too young

Growling, a grudge growing
We say it’s right
Who cares if we fight
This is the moment

So let us glow
Because this new born baby
Right here
Is ours

He could tear the family
See if we care
You raised me
Now let me raise him

And with tears on the floor
Still questioning
But what about,
The grandparents

By: Fabe

Ode to Pencils

The gray on the blank platform
The noises of tap dancing shoes
Footwork
Sweat, dripping like dew of a leaf
A seed to a blossom
the yellow of a lemon
A field of sunflowers
Receiving energy straight from the source
The pencil created it
As you let your juices flow
You create something spectacular
From a simple hand
Comes, conjured a person
Caught in
the intense yet serene,
wind with weary weeping
Sorrow and pain
In people’s faces
A pencil can demonstrate
Perseverance
Immortality
Emotion
Losing a toy,
a friend
she was the best since the 7th grade,
sharing secrets that no one knew
whispering and laughing quietly
so that that the teacher wouldn’t catch us
growing up together turned out to be like
An ice-cream cone
At first your mouth is full of saliva
The perfect Vanilla ice-cream cone
Covered with Rainbow sprinkles,
Sl-ow-ly Melting
from the extreme temperature
By: Rosaly P.

Slow-Mo

Kids playing tag on the street

Blocking cars, I can hear screams for miles

Heavy heart hopping

A man in leather gloves and a hat comes ready to blast bullets

Slow down

Beat drums

Gotta gun

Gotta run

Take a sec to see it slow

Slow down

See the display

Scared with sweat

Screech help

Slow down

Slow down

Go down

He's down

Go home

Slow-Mo

By: Fabe