Writing Poetry Portfolio - Fall 2011 Semester - Professor Block
This page contains some of the poems I wrote for portfolio in Writing Poetry.
Morning Glory
In the dark of night,
The bud lies still and
A warm mist blankets
Each petal with
Soft kisses
Dawn comes, and
The sun peeks above
The horizon.
Warm rays caress each
Pink petal,
Until the dew,
Seeps deep into the
Nectar.
The bud begs to
Open,
To let its petals
Fall
Aside, and
Consume
the fire, and be
Transformed to
Crimson flower
The bud lies still and
A warm mist blankets
Each petal with
Soft kisses
Dawn comes, and
The sun peeks above
The horizon.
Warm rays caress each
Pink petal,
Until the dew,
Seeps deep into the
Nectar.
The bud begs to
Open,
To let its petals
Fall
Aside, and
Consume
the fire, and be
Transformed to
Crimson flower
Winter
The season of darkness
Approaches;
The maple trees ready
For their grand finale.
Pushing their bloom
To crimson fire and
Orange blaze.
One last attempt at
Beauty before darkness
Takes over.
One by one, and
Later, by the dozen,
Leaves turn brown and
Release from their limbs,
Swaying, back and forth;
They spiral down in a
A slow dance with
An invisible hand.
They meet their fate
On the ground.
The maples, standing bare
And exposed, grieve.
Chill season arrives.
The leaves, now black,
Are blanketed in white.
They lie still, in darkness,
Frozen in silence.
Approaches;
The maple trees ready
For their grand finale.
Pushing their bloom
To crimson fire and
Orange blaze.
One last attempt at
Beauty before darkness
Takes over.
One by one, and
Later, by the dozen,
Leaves turn brown and
Release from their limbs,
Swaying, back and forth;
They spiral down in a
A slow dance with
An invisible hand.
They meet their fate
On the ground.
The maples, standing bare
And exposed, grieve.
Chill season arrives.
The leaves, now black,
Are blanketed in white.
They lie still, in darkness,
Frozen in silence.
Fifteen Forever
It was easy to spot the mother, though I
Had never met her before…
She was the one whose heart was so ravaged
By grief that her face wore a mask of contortion.
And her night eyes,
Her night eyes moved round
The room in silent desperation.
She never spoke a word;
Her tongue lay in the casket,
Buried within her
Daughter’s still heart.
Death had taken her, too;
But by large degrees of cruelty,
Had left her body behind.
All the while, the fresh-faced ones came,
They came and went, with rosey cheeks.
I felt the mother’s resentment as surely
As I felt the crisp air on that early spring night.
Only in an backwards world should a
Mother bury her child.
Meanwhile, I held my girl as she wept,
And my heart,
My heart broke a thousand times for the
Loss of her innocence.
Death,
The clever thief, the trickster,
Stole a little shimmer from her
Deep brown eyes, and left a
Knowing, that can never be
Unknown.
Had never met her before…
She was the one whose heart was so ravaged
By grief that her face wore a mask of contortion.
And her night eyes,
Her night eyes moved round
The room in silent desperation.
She never spoke a word;
Her tongue lay in the casket,
Buried within her
Daughter’s still heart.
Death had taken her, too;
But by large degrees of cruelty,
Had left her body behind.
All the while, the fresh-faced ones came,
They came and went, with rosey cheeks.
I felt the mother’s resentment as surely
As I felt the crisp air on that early spring night.
Only in an backwards world should a
Mother bury her child.
Meanwhile, I held my girl as she wept,
And my heart,
My heart broke a thousand times for the
Loss of her innocence.
Death,
The clever thief, the trickster,
Stole a little shimmer from her
Deep brown eyes, and left a
Knowing, that can never be
Unknown.
Road Sign
I was flying down the road,
The light ahead turned yellow,
I floored it,
Wouldn’t want to have to wait
A minute.
No, I was in a rush
My radio was screaming;
“Do you wanna die? Do you wanna die?”
A kick ass rock song
About seduction to sin
And eternal damnation.
I should have been repulsed
By the lyrics,
But I was into the riff.
Got stuck at the next light.
My eyes wandered to the
Sign outside an old church.
It read, “God Answers Knee Mail.”
God
Answers
Knee
I haven’t learned to kneel.
The Light turned green and
I hit the gas hard.
I was in a rush,
Rushing towards empty death.
They Dance
Alone in quiet darkness,
Night brings such emptiness
I hear nothing,
But my own breath;
And the whisper of
A soft breeze flowing through
The maple trees
I watch as the leaves
Dance their mocking jig,
Each leaf moves with the others,
Each, dependent upon the last
To propel the next into flight.
They intertwine,
Wind, branches, leaves
Taunting me with their joy…
They make a spectacle,
As if to show… we have each other
Meanwhile,
You’re not here to witness
The beauty of their stage,
Not here to dance with me
It’s not loneliness that ails me,
Loneliness is a wandering ignorance
Without cure;
Longing is my poison,
Longing knows the cure,
It’s your absence that has me
Longing for your remedy
Longing…
For you,
And still,
They dance…