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I took a crafting of poetry class this semester. It's not my usual form of writing, but I got some stuff that I really liked.
Brainstorming
Ever forming, ever changing,
Ever becoming somethingknew new.
Ink on paper, worlds on page,
Civilizations are born, built
Struck through, destroyed.
Stories told, never lost,
Though sometimes ( forgotten. )
Creating [ worlds ] on the paper.
The pen making, altering,
Laying ruin to; scribbled out.
Ideas forming sides, fighting,
Rebelling, submitting, becoming
Real for that moment.
Forrest the Soothsayer.
( Tal-Me the Goddess. )
Trish the Demon Warrior.
Characters breathe, flourish,
Die, taken out, set aside,
Saved for later use or none
At all, no one having known
Of their existence save for
The hand that formed them,
The page the housed them,
( The journal that keeps them
From the eyes of the [ real ] world. )
Letters Home
Dear Mr. & Mrs. Johnson,
This letter is to inform you that
Your son has been admitted
To the infirmary. He requests
Your presence. The counselors agree.
I am sending out this
Invitation. I hope that
This time you will accept.
Sincerely,
C.P. Berkly
Dean,
Saint Francis School For Boys
Homecoming
He gathered his things
And prepared to leave.
Books from his friends
For his birthday away,
The journal they gave him
To write his "thoughts" and "feelings,"
A house key tarnished
Not from age but disuse,
The plastic band around his wrist
listing his medications:
One for his parents,
One for his anxiety of returning,
One for the childhood he had missed,
And the red scars running down thin skin
From when he had "lost" himself.
He put the last half year of
His life in a box and said good-bye
To some of the people he had met
During his stay, not certain if half
Of them even knew themselves much less him.
When he exited through the sliding doors,
They were waiting.
His angels he called them --
The childhood friend he never
Really got over,
The old girlfriend he thought
He'd never see again,
And the one he suspected took him in
As a charity case but there she was
All the same. He laughed and joked
Though all of them knew he was faking.
They drove him home, stayed the night
And helped him feel "normal" again,
Chatting about things he had missed,
Friends he hadn't heard from, never
Once talking about those scars,
Something for which he'd be forever grateful.
Wanderlust
Or, The Most Awesome Roadtrip
He wasn't sure how long they
Had been driving. It seemed
A lifetime ago they got into
That sedan and just started
Off. They stopped for gas and rations
And to relieve themselves, but never
Stopped long term. To see the world,
Or at least 495 -- no thoughts, no
Worries, no cash needed because his
Parents had been loaded. He didn't
Talk about them much and he never
Asked. Never asked why he
Hadn't spoken to them in six years,
Never asked how they died,
Never asked why, of all people,
He had been chosen to share
This little journey with of pointless
Self-discovery that took them in circles.
He did ask himself that quite
Often, in between thoughts
Of how the only time he saw nature
Was through through the guardrails
Or splattered on the side of the road,
And how much his butt hurt from sitting.
It was his turn driving now
While he slept. It was twitchy, fitful slumber,
Always was, like a dog dreaming of chasing
A rabbit or something. Woke startled
Sometimes, always played it off.
He never asked, pretended he hadn't
Noticed. Just keep driving, they'll
Find someplace sooner or later.
slipping
she had felt her sanity
slipping.
like trying to take off a wet
bathing suit,
difficult,
clinging,
wrestling
with it until it was all
balled up
at her feet and she could do
nothing
but look at it, standing there
exposed,
wondering how it had happened in the first
place.
Brainstorming
Ever forming, ever changing,
Ever becoming something
Ink on paper, wor
Civilizations are born, built
Struck through, destroyed.
Stories told, never lost,
Though sometimes ( forgotten. )
Creating [ worlds ] on the paper.
The pen making, altering,
Laying ruin to; scribbled out.
Ideas forming sides, fighting,
Rebelling, submitting, becoming
Real for that moment.
Forrest the Soothsayer.
( Tal-Me the Goddess. )
Characters breathe, flourish,
Die, taken out, set aside,
Saved for later use or none
At all, no one having known
Of their existence save for
The hand that formed them,
The page the housed them,
( The journal that keeps them
From the eyes of the [ real ] world. )
Letters Home
Dear Mr. & Mrs. Johnson,
This letter is to inform you that
Your son has been admitted
To the infirmary. He requests
Your presence. The counselors agree.
I am sending out this
Invitation. I hope that
This time you will accept.
Sincerely,
C.P. Berkly
Dean,
Saint Francis School For Boys
Homecoming
He gathered his things
And prepared to leave.
Books from his friends
For his birthday away,
The journal they gave him
To write his "thoughts" and "feelings,"
A house key tarnished
Not from age but disuse,
The plastic band around his wrist
listing his medications:
One for his parents,
One for his anxiety of returning,
One for the childhood he had missed,
And the red scars running down thin skin
From when he had "lost" himself.
He put the last half year of
His life in a box and said good-bye
To some of the people he had met
During his stay, not certain if half
Of them even knew themselves much less him.
When he exited through the sliding doors,
They were waiting.
His angels he called them --
The childhood friend he never
Really got over,
The old girlfriend he thought
He'd never see again,
And the one he suspected took him in
As a charity case but there she was
All the same. He laughed and joked
Though all of them knew he was faking.
They drove him home, stayed the night
And helped him feel "normal" again,
Chatting about things he had missed,
Friends he hadn't heard from, never
Once talking about those scars,
Something for which he'd be forever grateful.
Wanderlust
Or, The Most Awesome Roadtrip
He wasn't sure how long they
Had been driving. It seemed
A lifetime ago they got into
That sedan and just started
Off. They stopped for gas and rations
And to relieve themselves, but never
Stopped long term. To see the world,
Or at least 495 -- no thoughts, no
Worries, no cash needed because his
Parents had been loaded. He didn't
Talk about them much and he never
Asked. Never asked why he
Hadn't spoken to them in six years,
Never asked how they died,
Never asked why, of all people,
He had been chosen to share
This little journey with of pointless
Self-discovery that took them in circles.
He did ask himself that quite
Often, in between thoughts
Of how the only time he saw nature
Was through through the guardrails
Or splattered on the side of the road,
And how much his butt hurt from sitting.
It was his turn driving now
While he slept. It was twitchy, fitful slumber,
Always was, like a dog dreaming of chasing
A rabbit or something. Woke startled
Sometimes, always played it off.
He never asked, pretended he hadn't
Noticed. Just keep driving, they'll
Find someplace sooner or later.
slipping
she had felt her sanity
slipping.
like trying to take off a wet
bathing suit,
difficult,
clinging,
wrestling
with it until it was all
balled up
at her feet and she could do
nothing
but look at it, standing there
exposed,
wondering how it had happened in the first
place.
Tags:
I like the second one the best
Nice.
Re: I like the second one the best