Poetry

A page for various poems I'm proud of. 

The Hunger Games

The Children are warriors; sent to die;

Survival of the cruelest is the game.

Kids forced to make some friends and say goodbye,

'cause only one can get the victor fame.

The twenty four, both hunters and the prey

Each swift or strong and ready for the fight.

They want to hold off their own final day

So they will kill until the final night.

The rest of Panem must watch for the 'fun,'

They cry when their own district's kids are gone.

That tribute's fam'ly lost their young loved one

Just 'cause the leader used them as a pawn.

The victor crowned, they will become a drunk

Another year, the hope of change is sunk.

Heaven on Earth

Memories fading with each step;

Thoughts reduced to soft whispers.

They glide across the floor in sweeping circles,

Her flowing skirt brushing the ground;

His eyes trained on her smiling face.

Soft music dances above their heads,

The wind carrying the melody to the stars.

The Weeping Willow branches sway to the music.

Butterflies in his stomach flutter,

Her green eyes glisten with love.

At that moment, neither of them want more;

All they could ever ask for is there with them.

He only knows her sweet perfume,

how it tickles his nose so softly.

She needs nothing more than his hand holding hers.

The hours trickle onward,

The moon floats across the sky,

But time has no meaning to them.

They may be living on Earth,

but when they look into each other's eyes, they're in Heaven.

Politics

I wish you'd just shut up.

You're a bunch of children

Trying to out shout each other;

Teasing and bullying everyone around you

Treating members of other parties like they have cooties.

You're old enough to stop listening,

Ignore when others try to help,

Old enough to create little cliques,

And young enough to think that they're cool.

I wish you'd just grow up.

I want both parties to stop, and think.

The Donkey and Elephant need to talk

They need to come up with an agreement,

Because right now, nothing's getting better.

While your huge paycheck keeps you safe,

As it bathes you, and clothes you,

And feeds you, and tells you bed time stories...

The rest of us are suffering.

Shut up, grow up, and get it together.

Stop being stubborn little babies.

And if you can't do those simple things,

I might just move to Canada.

Dreaming

I don't remember how it started,

This nightmare or dream or whatever it is.

This can't be real, that's all I know,

Because I'm eight years old and all alone.

I walk downstairs, shakily calling

Momma? Yiayia? Papou? Mia? ...Jake? Blossy?

Oh, I know! Maybe they're in the basement!

And so I opened the door and down I went,

climbed down the green stairs, then turn left.

Freeze.

If I was sane, I would laugh right now;

I don't even have a drum set, so how,

Tell me, how is that skeleton sitting behind one?

What does it think it's going to do, huh?

And I know that I should be laughing

Instead, though, I run upstairs screaming

And I slam the door, and I feel safe.

Until I look in the kitchen, and see a big bird with a feathery poof.

Where did the second floor go? Where's the roof?

Why am I not laughing at the insanity of all this?

I'm just running round and round as the bird pecks,

Until, suddenly, I'm thirteen and at Scullen*

And there's my cousin, and he nudges me

He points across the hall, where a boy is watching,

And there, right there, is Edward Cullen.

(*a middle school. That rhymes with Cullen.)