Mother Nature

A breath of air from Mother Nature

Or maybe a sneeze

Or a gasp

Or a snore

Sweeps the earth like a gust of wind

But when she gets angry

She utters a shout

That shakes the earth

Like a hurricane

Or a tsunami

Though when she sleeps soundly

The waters are still

And the world is warm and at peace

English poetry project

Comparing: Gabriella orsini

They are always there,

We are always compared.

Judging with wandering eyes.

Wondering with thoughts in disguise.

Why? You may ask.

Because they need to.

It's what they do.

They always seem to know

When you don't know where to go

When your spiraling out of control

They just watch.

They say they aren't but we all know

Those are just lies the tell because,

They are always there. 

We will always be compared.

A Dancer's Journey- By: Gina Calzone

A dancer's journey is a long, complicated one.
A ballerina's hair up in a tight bun.
Make your legs as straight as a baseball bat.
Don't forget to keep your balance, or you'll go splat.

Look forward. Not side to side, or up and down.
Do a pique, and turn around.
Shoulders down, back straight.
Get to dance class, now don't be late.

"This dance is your life now, make it great!" Your dance teacher yells while you practice your routine.
"Come on girls, make it pristine!"
You smile as you dance on, not caring about the yelling...
because dancing is not a hobby, it's your passion,
it's your dream.
"Now make it happen!"

Beast

Beauty is the beast 

That clouds your mind

Tears you a parts 

And kills you.

The beat is beauty

That hurts you

And others all around

But is the beast beauty?

Just look around 

And I'm sure you'll see,

The beast disguised at beauty

Waiting for it's next victim.

Poetryyy

Poetryyy by gani

Storm birds

Birds are smart and even clean,

They stuff themselves until they're nice and lean.

A storms a coming, and they are keen

and can sense the rain coming in between,

They flock together and flee together, for the rain is comming,

they dont want to be stuck in the rain

and suffer all that pain.

They take two seconds to run

and take all the time they need,

they are birds are their senses are keen,

they are gone before the rain and feel no pain

for they are birds and won't get washed up in the rain.

The storm is over and the sun comes up

and there are all the birds making a fuss.

Oh wait thats not a fuss, thats the beautiful chirping and burping

of the birds pecking on the plump worms,

filling themselves until they're 

nice and lean.

　

　

　

　

Analysis:

What inspired me to write this poem is first of all I knew that I wanted to talk about about something in nature. Then I thought I want to talk about something that is strong and has to survive outside in the rain, sun, and snow. So I chose to write about birds, they go through harsh climates but after it rains and the sun comes up you hear happy chirps all around. What trouble I had creating this poem was to keep the rhyme consistent and when it changes I made sure that the rhythm was still easy to follow. In this poem I made it mainly about rhythm and repetition with assonance to give it that flow. I wrote "They flock together and flee together" (line 5) not only to show that they are intelligent creatures but also for the structure of the poem with the repetition of flock together and flee together. I also repeated line 2 "They stuff themselves until they're nice and lean." in the last line in the poem. Before a storm on a normal day all birds do is try to find food and just fly around looking for crumbs or whatever they can find. But after it's done raining they have a feast of worms that have risen up from the ground and once again will fill themselves until they're nice and lean. ", Thats the beautiful chirping and burping of the birds pecking on the plump worms." (Last sentence) That part of the poem is a real "lip mover" and you can put emphasis on all of those words. And what I mean by the birds being smart is that they can sense changes in pressure and always take cover before the storm comes and are the first ones to come out and help themselves to what is has to offer.

The Earth's End- Gavin Butler

Fire and Ice- Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favour fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

 

The Earth’s End- Gavin Butler

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

I say the world will end by its own creation,

Its own flesh in blood will ground its insides,

Hollowing it from the inside out,

Its gift will scrape away at its flesh,

Tearing away millions of years of progress,

Praying, praying for an answer, only heard by few,

They stand up, but are shut down.

So who will be the world’s savior?

For without a savior, the world will be muted and blinded,

And if it cannot speak, it cannot give back, leveling plains, raising oceans, pulling wind,

And if it is blinded, it cannot see,

If it cannot see, the world is helpless,

For it, as its creations do to it, feed off them,

Their death is its birth,

So who will be the world’s savior?

That is up to you to decide.

For some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice,

But only can its creation be its end.

Whether it is in fire or ice,

Its end will be its chance at life.

 

Poetryyy by gani

Storm birds

Birds are smart and even clean,

They stuff themselves until they're nice and lean.

A storms a coming, and they are keen

and can sense the rain coming in between,

They flock together and flee together, for the rain is comming,

they dont want to be stuck in the rain

and suffer all that pain.

They take two seconds to run

and take all the time they need,

they are birds are their senses are keen,

they are gone before the rain and feel no pain

for they are birds and won't get washed up in the rain.

The storm is over and the sun comes up

and there are all the birds making a fuss.

Oh wait thats not a fuss, thats the beautiful chirping and burping

of the birds pecking on the plump worms,

filling themselves until they're 

nice and lean.

　

　

　

　

Analysis:

What inspired me to write this poem is first of all I knew that I wanted to talk about about something in nature. Then I thought I want to talk about something that is strong and has to survive outside in the rain, sun, and snow. So I chose to write about birds, they go through harsh climates but after it rains and the sun comes up you hear happy chirps all around. What trouble I had creating this poem was to keep the rhyme consistent and when it changes I made sure that the rhythm was still easy to follow. In this poem I made it mainly about rhythm and repetition with assonance to give it that flow. I wrote "They flock together and flee together" (line 5) not only to show that they are intelligent creatures but also for the structure of the poem with the repetition of flock together and flee together. I also repeated line 2 "They stuff themselves until they're nice and lean." in the last line in the poem. Before a storm on a normal day all birds do is try to find food and just fly around looking for crumbs or whatever they can find. But after it's done raining they have a feast of worms that have risen up from the ground and once again will fill themselves until they're nice and lean. ", Thats the beautiful chirping and burping of the birds pecking on the plump worms." (Last sentence) That part of the poem is a real "lip mover" and you can put emphasis on all of those words. And what I mean by the birds being smart is that they can sense changes in pressure and always take cover before the storm comes and are the first ones to come out and help themselves to what is has to offer.

Coquetry

After all there's no need

to say anything

The sun will still set as required

while the birds chirp their tunes

All the young boys still remain wired,

the girls lavished in perfumes

The lonesome thought remaining 

of what will never be 

Will cover up my shaming

yet "colorful" framing know as me

The fears are now reconquered, 

feelings in fain some blues

Aspiration is not inquired 

because to you I'm old news

Apologetic for all this complaning 

but you are an absentee

So please don't keep me waiting 

upon the thought known as you and me

Really there's no need

for all this gaming 

Two Brothers

Two young men

who were just born

dealt their love

with bitter scorn.

When starting to judge

their love of life,

they decided best

to end in strife.

They turned their backs

to face each other,

drew their swords

and shot each other.

And then a man

who was blind,

saw their fight

and was kind

He livened the mood

with thoughts of dread

he preserved their lives

by smashing their heads

As the two brothers lay

in an unjust rest

their loving sleep

was for the best

 

If you don’t believe

this lie is true,

then ask the deaf man

he heard it too.

 

And again, today

upon the stair

I saw the brothers

who weren’t there.

They were not there again to day

I wish,

I wish,

they’d go away.

Ink

         Ink is what keeps poetry alive ,

                  The black blood

            That flows in every poem, 

         It helps to carry on a tradition 

      Of poems written from the heart ,

        And even when the poet is dead , 

            Ink helps keep poetry living

                    By: Matt Stewart 

Poetry

Poetry doesn’t make any sense,

When you begin, what do you write?

Do you have to have assonance?

However that does not meet your delight.

Sustain a certain sound for alliteration,

Do have to make the line’s rhyme?

Maybe, but the wind will talk with personification,

Will the rhyme help the poem climb?

I almost forgot slant and end,

That’s fine; simile is as easy as ABC,

However the end is better to see the trend.

Metaphor is a breeze, but a little harder to see.

Every poem should have strong diction,

It will help build up suspense.

Its strength will help the reader’s depiction,

Poetry doesn’t make any sense.

Livin With the Tides, Take’n Boat Rides - Poetry Project Poem by Aidan Maher

Livin With the Tides, Take’n Boat Rides

Aidan Maher

Carried by the tides

Not a care in the world

Taking boat rides

Lines being hurled

Friends, family, food

Sleeping in late

Man, it’s all good

No one could hate

We wait for the day

Feels like forever

The month after May

School ties we’ll sever

Just come already

Schools a Bummer

I’m so ready

For this year’s summer

Mixed Messages

Mixed Messages

By James Chhit

You hear it.

The voices ring out.

They control you.

You can’t fight back.

The voices are you.

You disagree, but don’t.

It doesn't matter in the end.

Anarchy, democracy;

Nothing matters.

Just stay in your coma;

and let the voices ring out.

They hear it.

They ring out.

They control you.

They know what to do.

They are you.

They disagree, they agree.

It doesn't matter in the end.

Just a shouting contest.

Nothing matters.

All just a game.

An experiment; you’re the dummy.

Just let your voices ring out.

He sees it.

He watches over.

He sees you argue and fumble.

He gave you the chance.

He gave you the tools.

He set the common goal

You failed to meet it.

In the end it’s

all just a game.

An experiment; we’re all the dummies.

Stars

Stars

Life is like a star in the sky
Seen by everyone
Understood by none
Surrounded by everything
Next to nothing
But those who care
Will always look after in spare
The guiding light
Burning bright
Looking over those in need
And supported by those closest to me

Growing - Poem for Poetry Project

Growing

Andrew Beres

Youngest age,

Starting page,

A sprout in the dirt.

Golden days,

Sunny rays,

Quite full of dessert.

Older years,

Lesser cheers,

A bud in the soil.

Darker views

Innocence lose

A light in turmoil.

Strongest time,

Seeing crime,

A blooming flower.

Darkness prime.

Tougher climb,

A conflicting hour

Old age reigns,

The life drains,

The flower withers.

Falling rain

Brings some pain

But the light grows bigger

Being There

 

No matter what, there is always someone behind you.

Someone on your side.

Someone to help you stand.

Someone to make the bleeding stop.

Someone to push you along.

Someone to root for you.

And someone to hold on to.

 

That someone can be anyone,

 You will not know unless you ask,

 Ask who is really on your side.

That someone helps you

So you can in return,

Help out someone too.

So you can be there for them too.

Summer

I love the feeling of the sun

When it touches your back and feels as hot as fire

I love the beach and having summer fun 

When you can sit back and admire 

I love when you can sleep in all day 

When you can have fun all night 

I love the feeling when it gets close to May.

When spring and summer comes into site

I love the smell of swear sun tan lotion

When it gets al sticky on your face 

I love when summer is in motion

When you go to the beach and stare up into space 

I love wearing flip flops all the time 

When you can feel the sand get between your toes

I love summer when it's in its prime 

But not when it goes 

Getting Rich

Getting Rich

Why live off of money and fame

there's nothing better to us than affection and love

not crumpled green paper with a number and a name,

It could be five-hundred maybe even one-hundred

But does it really matter?

It is all but just one piece of paper with a number and a name.

Why do we feel the need to impress others

when we already appeal to so many

The rich feed off of nothing but envy,

Do we really need the money and fame?

A dollar this, a dollar that.. 

When all of this could be so simple and plain.

Escape from Reality

Every night
When I put my head down
and close my eyes,
I am transported
to a parallel universe
where there are no worries.

            I am in a world
            Where there is no need to fear
            or stress
            or cry
            but rather to smile
            and laugh
            and be free.

                   But little did I know
                   That these feelings were only temporary
                   and all of those worries
                   and stresses
                   and tears
                   would reappear
                   when I opened my eyes again.

                                Every day
                                When I lift my head up
                                and open my eyes
                                I am exposed
                                to reality
                                where there is no confidence.

                                       I am in a world
                                       where there is no need to smile
                                       or laugh
                                       or feel free
                                       but rather to be afraid
                                       and stressed
                                       and upset.

                                              But little did I know
                                              That these feelings were only temporary
                                               and all of the smiling
                                               and laughter
                                               and freedom
                                               would reappear
                                               when I closed my eyes again.

Normality | dD

Normality

What purpose does it serve, being normal?

When one can have so much more fun,

Being just a bit more unusual?

Why is there such a fixation,

on brandishing such uniformity?                                             5

I find it quite ironic,

How ignorance

Has become the universal status quo,

How arrogance and deception,

Lies and redemption,                                                               10

Have gained such great a tolerance.

Why ever bother to fit in with a crowd,

If few to no interests are even shared?

What purpose is there fighting for an imaginary crown?

Why not try to define yourself,                                                   15

and not let others try to define you?

I find it quite ironic,

How self-esteem

Is threatened by ultimately trivial values,

How the desire for appeal of a group’s mind                             20

Has become such a bind,

That one would gladly sacrifice dignity for group-esteem.

Why be confined to uniformity,

Why give up your personality,

Why conform to drone mentality,                                               25

Why surrender your reality?

I’d like to know what happened to originality.

Brad Edwards

+-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------+


Thanks,
~B.E


dD datadyne

Learn Your Alphabet

Learn Your Alphabet

By Madison Nadolny

All abrasions are

bad because of the burn but

cut the crying the

damage is done

even if the event

forgot to forgive you

give yourself great

Hope to have happier

instances and ignore the intrusions

just because of one jolt.

Keep aiming to be king,

leaving behind lost love and last hope and learning to

make mammoth problems micro, and make mistakes become milestones.

Notice what is nice and what is not

occurring often enough or is

perhaps taking place too much.

Quit quietly watching from the side and

realize that you can reap rewards from

slipups and be ready to start over and stand up

to those that teach thousands not to be

understanding, but to be unimaginative,

vacant beings that value the

wrong things. While waiting will bring weariness

X out all who x you out, then x out

your yawns and your yearnings with no yield, yet don’t

zero out the zaniness that zips you through life

Always be crazy, do eat food, go hear insane jams, know lessons more, no one poking questioningly, remember, some that use veils will x your zone

A Northern Light; (Original Poem)

A Northern Light

By: Larissa Anderson

Green dashes 

Blue scratches 

Violet ashes 

Red...

How can these colors be matches,

when all I saw was shred? 

When Innocence Is Lost

I wish I could go back to that age

When every letter of the alphabet had it’s own separate page.

Back to when I was cold and mommy would tuck me in at night.

Back to when I was afraid of fighting off monsters so I’d sleep with a night light.

Back to when daddy would reach his arms out at me from inside the pool so I wouldn't drown because I couldn't swim.

Back to when I thought I was good at sports because he would let me win.

Back to when I would pick at the scab on my knee and I’d cry.

Back to when someone was always around to sing me a lullaby.

Back to when I could identify my friends under those villain masks that covered each face.

Back to when bad memories had no trouble being erased.

Back to when happily ever after really did exist.

And Santa Claus really had a naughty or nice list.

Back to when I wanted to be as big as those people who would pick me up so I wished to grow up fast.

Back to when being happy always found a way to last.

But during those days that I ran free,

I somehow lost that innocence in me.

And now I’m at that age

where stacks of paper pile on top of my desk.

And I could read 100 words on each page.

And now I tuck myself in at night

Yet I still feel cold

And I've had practice fighting off monsters so I no longer use my night light.

And now I dive head first in the pool because I know how to swim,

But I still manage to drown.

And I have to be good at sports because my dad refuses to let me win.

And now every time that I pick at the scabs on my heart and I cry

It seems like everyone has disappeared

And no one's around to sing me a lullaby.

And now some people still wear those villain masks that once covered their face.

And I could no longer identify some of my friends

And bad memories will never be erased.

And love stories? Well they still exist…

For a couple of months.

And Santa Claus got tired of adding people’s names to the naughty list.

And now I’m big just like those people who used to pick me up. I grew up so fast.

And I quickly found out that there are certain people who like to put you down,

So happiness no longer lasts.

Who knew that growing up would cost what it costs?

But I guess that’s what happens when innocence is lost.

By: Dea Ballij

The Meaning of Winning

The Meaning of Winning

It doesn’t matter

If you get a trophy

Or a shiny gold medal

What really matters is if

You know you did your best

But you won’t always win in life

In fact, many times you lose

You aren’t always the best

And there are people

Who are better

But you try

And get better

Eventually, sometimes

It is you that is the victor

And you get that gold medal

You will always meet your match

And they will bring you down

They will take your medal

And all you can do

Is rebuild

And you will

Build stronger

You will build better

And you will be the winner

But does that really matter?

What really matters is if you were the best you could be

-Anonymous