Note: i have no idea as to who wrote a lot of these, i can only say that i did not. If i know whose work any of these are, i will have their name underneath the poem.
I knew i'd miss you.
When you care about someone
as much as I do about you,
being apart
is a hard thing
to get used to.
I thought I'd handle it
just fine...
and that I'd be happy
just to keep you on my mind.
But it isn't always that easy...
Sometimes the one thing that would
please me the most... is simply
seeing you.
I knew that I'd miss you.
I just didn't know
I'd miss you
as much as I do.
By: Alin Austin
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
By: Robert Frost (my favorite poet, and this is my favorite poem)
Sitting on the corner,
Alone and afraid.
Trying to hold on to hope
For the life I've made
It's so hard to smile
While holding back tears
But if you dig down deep
Somewhere in your soul
You will find the strength
To fill the empty hole
It might take time
Long hours of pain
But you have nothing to lose
And everything to gain…
The tide recedes but leaves behind bright seashells on the sand,
The sun goes down, but gentle warmth still lingers on the land,
The music stops, and yet it echoes on in sweet refrains...
For every joy that passes, something beautiful remains.
By: Lucille Hague
A flower in a field of green
A leaf on a tree in winter
A cloud in an ocean of blue
A spark in a world of darkness
A streak of color in my world of grey
And the rain poured harder than I have ever heard
steam rising like lust from the street
my heart all too well attached
to its blood at my feet
My soul-mate, my friend, my wild-and-crazy guy.
The one who would perform the craziest of dares and then tell a truth that was crazier.
The guy who had women in three different countries and complained about how he never had a steady relationship.
A wandering soul who was never able to find his place in life.
At least not one he could call his very own.
There was always a bond between us.
A bond more spiritual and mysterious than anything else.
The more I think about it, the more I am certain that we were a product of divine intervention.
I'd always see him whenever I needed him most.
He was like a lucky shirt that I'd find on the day of my recital.
Or a baseball cap that I'd wear on the day of the big game.
Always there- giving me advice on life, death, and what lie in between.
My parents always thought he had a crush on me.
I'd blush, then laugh as I corrected their misguidedness-- even though a part of me wished there were a kernel of truth to their beliefs.
I think about my Buddhist-Jew friend and wonder if he's still the track-and-field-running, chess-playing, roller-blading, meditating, Tai-Chi-ing, poetry-writing, photogenic gymnast he always was.
We used to talk on the phone, write letters, and see each other all of the time.
But not anymore.
Not since he went away.
I still remember his laugh, his smile, and sometimes, if I think really hard, even the scent of the cologne he wore.
I remember him waving to me and saying goodbye.
I remember how a wave of loneliness swept through my body as I saw him leave.
"There he goes," I thought to myself, "Out of my life again."
It never occurred to me that he'd be gone for good.
By: Kimberly McClelland
Your children were brought up
in the aisles of Toys-R-Us,
whining and begging for everything,
which you willingly gave,
thinking it would make them forget
the long nights at home with the babysitter.
But you made them so self-centralized,
the only things they forgot was that there were once children
whose toys were the products of the Great Mother,
who never had a Nintendo, nor ever wanted one.
Your children were brought up
in a world of holidays.
Of Memorial Days and Easters and Christmases
that were the only times who had time to see them.
A world of weekend trips to the beach,
where you never even took your shoes off.
Your teenagers grew up
in the hallways of the mall,
searching the Gap and Nordstrom
for the Calvein Kleins that fit skin-tight,
and the black Doc Martins that look just so.
Laughing at private jokes while they walk
with arms full of bags and a strawberry milkshake
in their left hand,
sneering at the girl without the name-brand jeans.
Your kids left you alone in your old age,
dumped you in a nursing home
as soon as you hit fifty.
Left you to a life
of Bingo and shuffleboard.
Now you stare at the TV
and hear about your grandson's friend,
who was just arrested for assault,
and you wonder,
"What's wrong with kids today?"
By: Kate Bellock
All the poems from here down are my brother's work. You must read them! I command you! They're really cool...
In the middle of the night
The wolves howl their cries
Bringing fear to the strongest men
And tears to the children's eyes
Listen to them, the creatures of the night
What sweet music they make
They tear their victimes to pieces
And on blood, their thirst, they slake
Running silently through the wood
The wolves hunt their prey
Animals flee in terror
While Man decides to stay
Listen to them, the creatures of the night
What sweet music they make
They tear their victimes to pieces
And on blood, their thirst, they slake
The men stay only to be butchered
They can't comprehend what they're fighting
If only they knew, the poor, poor fools
Their enemies move as swift as lightning
Listen to them, the creatures of the night
What sweet music they make
They tear their victimes to pieces
And on blood, their thirst, they slake
By: Jacob Lee
My mother always said
That monsters are evil things
That they kill the innocent
And are demon-like beings
Mother always told me
That monsters are make-believe
That they do not exist
But if that's true, why isn't my heart at ease?
Mother was wrong
Monsters aren't make-believe
We can't see them but they are there
The REAL monsters are within me
By: Jacob Lee
People are born in innocence
People live in sin
Always fighting against
The Darkness within
People who live in sin
Always die in shame
Darkness swallowed
Them up again
People who die in shame
Are soon reborn, then
Darkness consumes
Their souls again
Darkness loses
Darkness wins
Darkness feeds
Itself on sin
Born in innocence
Keep it in
Never succumb
To the darkness within
By: Jacob Lee
Looking out through the bars
People staring, near and far
Hobbling about, back and forth
Dodging rocks for all it's worth
Just one more freak
Humanity at its peak?
Just one more freak
It looks so weak
Anger builds, its skin bursts
The humans start to scream and curse
Fire burns them all to cinders
Yet the freak moves about unhindered
Just one more freak
It doesn't even speak
Just one more freak
It seemed so weak
All the corpses, blackened and burned
The freak's stomach begins to churn
It falls to its knees, at what it's done
All it wanted was to be left alone
Just one more freak
By: Jacob Lee
