Poems
Music Saves Me | Procrastination | Quand Je M'Assois Sur La Plage
Respect Your Fruits | Stars And Moon | Undefined | World Of Ink
A Different Kind Of Expedition
By Lucy
The captain steers his mighty ship forward,With his feet planted confidently on its solid, oak floors.
His crew is bustling around him as they journey
Across a massive ocean of letters,
Letters forming into words,
Words flowing into sentences,
And sentences cementing into life.
The vessel cruised through the first seven lines with ease.
The captain smiles and breathes in the crisp and unfamiliar air.
The salty tinge rests in his nostrils,
And the gentle breeze brushes his roughly bearded face.
He is a man scarred by age and battle,
But his eyes show his childish anticipation
For what comes next.
By the end of the fourteenth line,
He is trapped in the scenery.
The effortless glide of the ship over the page,
And the peaceful rocking of the rhythm
Hypnotizes.
He stands frozen,
With his eyes wide open.
He is speechless.
"LAND HO CAPTAIN, APPROACHING LINE TWENTY FOUR!"
The warning cry from his lookout breaks his trance
As they reach the final punctuation point.
A voyage is completed,
Experience is gained,
And realizations are made.
Cheers erupt as the beer jugs are passed around,
And the captain lets out a hearty laugh.
Everybody is affected by the mixed feelings felt
At the end of a poem.
Mistaken Identity
By Xingyi
The knocking came late after dark,a dirty battered face peered up, eyes pleading.
Mistaking him for a street urchin,
I turned him away.
When morning came,
the body lay curled up on my doorstep,
covered in a thin layer of sparkling frost.
Wings broken, halo cracked, gown torn.
The fallen angel was dead.
Mistaken Intentions
By Xingyi
Through the wind he runs.Though his shackles are broken,
his mind is set on retribution.
The sun disappears over the horizon.
Now the moon is rising,
casting its pale light onto the secluded garden.
Shadows gather as the ritual begins.
The boy draws a circle, sealing it with blood.
Chanting in old Gaelic, he walks deosil three times 'round.
A bolt of raw energy shoots up to the sky.
Startled, the boy stumbles back,
oblivious of what he has unleashed.
Dark forces awaken from their slumber.
Long forgotten gods peer down,
frosty smiles on their faces.
Music Saves Me
By Corina
Alone on a silent cliff top.Scrambling for a handhold,
Falling because there's nobody to pull me up.
The music grabs my hand like a faithful friend,
And holds tighter then anyone ever could.
It fills my ears and I am strong.
There is no silence anymore,
Only music.
And I don't have to fall,
Because I can fly.
Procrastination Ate My Time
By Xingyi
Procrastination is water leaking out a spigot's mouth.Every time I wander by, I make note to turn it off,
but I never do.
Over time, rust creeps up around the rim.
Days tick by; more water is wasted.
It leaves a greedy puddle that steadily grows.
Eventually, the water rises to a threatening flood.
No longer avoidable,
I grab the mop, feeling its familiar, worn-down handle
and the green paint-chipped bucket.
Looking down, the whole day is gone.
Quand Je M'Assois Sur La Plage
By Xingyi
Je m'assois sur la plage,et regarde pendant tout l'univers le révèle.
Le ciel, encore rose du coucher du soleil, me regarde attentivement.
Déjà, les étoiles apparaissent sur l'arrière-plan de bleu sombre.
Les vagues écrasent à grève dans un rythme constant.
Des rafales du vent soufflent de la mer.
Le sable froid chatouille mes orteils.
Tout est paisible.
Ce moment est parfait.
Je ne suis plus moi, une individuelle,
mais une partie d'un entier.
Tout ce qui m'entoure bouge en harmonie.
La lune monte dans le ciel nocturne.
Je faudrais partir, il est tard,
mais Nature me détient comme otage,
elle est tellement belle.
Respect Your Fruits!
By Bella
I wish I weren't an orange, shunned into an empty yet bacteria infested fridge.I wish this fridge would miraculously mend its cracked up insulation, so that it would actually keep me and my comrades fresh and crisp.
I wish the humans would notice the apple rotting to the core next to me soon, so that the unpleasant sour smell may fade away.
I wish... no, I pray, that I wouldn't end up like the apple: dead and brown, like a corpse.
I wish this fridge door would creak open so that I might be able to catch a glimpse of the animated world outside I've always longed to see.
I wish that the doors would immediately slam shut, now that I've witnessed a fragment of the ungraceful world of junk and pollution. But the door stays wide open.
I wish those humans wouldn't eagerly scan the fridge, hunting for food to stuff their greedy faces.
I wish I was back in the fridge, so that I can be at ease in my home, and not restrained on this sketchy wooden table.
I wish the humans wouldn't get a butter knife out of the tall cupboards, so that I wouldn't need to sweat this cold fear.
I wish I wasn't being sliced into pieces, so that I wouldn't feel so vulnerable and exposed, with orange juice trickling down my peel.
I wish I wasn't being chewed to a wet pulp in the human's mouth; it's deep, dark, damp, and awfully uncomfortable...
I wish I wasn't in the stomach, where I will be completely melted by acid, providing a human's daily dose of vitamin C and essential nutrients.
I wish you would appreciate what I've been through, because now I will never get to say
"Orange you glad you ate me?"
Stars And Moon
By Wawa
The sun's arrogant flare starts to sink downHeaven's little helper ascends, eyes light brown
She takes out vibrant ribbon, handiwork spry
Soon chains of delicate stars will sleep in the pink sky
The man with the moon admires his job done
He floats down to help her, stringing stars one by one
They work from Cassiopeia to Cygnus the swan
Just about finished before the night melts to dawn
The sun climbs up, a moment she dreads
The little moon boy bids farewell before bed
One more day without him, but for now she'll compromise
Comforted by the fact they dream above the same wide sky
Undefined
By Corina
Imagination wanders across a vast inexpressible landscape.It stretches on forever, and is blindingly overwhelming at first.
But focus soon narrows on what we understand,
A small but deep river flowing swiftly through a glen of green willows,
Framed by dabbles of golden sunlight.
The river carries streams of inspiration: all intertwined and constantly in motion.
An entire dictionary swims beneath the surface,
Words leap like fish into open hands, forming a substance as malleable as soft clay that bubbles and burns like lava under your hands.
A poem, like an island, is born,
A small piece of the land that stretches to eternity.
World Of Ink
By Xingyi
She stares blankly at the page before her,pen hanging limp from her hand,
dead.Inspiration is her salvation.
Ink dances across the vast unknown,
radiating life with every step.
The barren wasteland
transforms into
a lush jungle.
No longer restrained
to the boundaries of paper,
she is forced to stop.
Amazed by the master piece,
she smiles,
eyes shining.