Revised Poems

LOCK DOWN DRILL

Hushed children

with hushed voices

sit, kneel, huddle

The room around, dark and

confused

With the school supplies lonely

the desks neglected

All seeing the hiding group

of hushed children

with hushed voices

Hiding from the

terror

that is not really there

Children giggle

squeal

eyes dart

Now character is

revealed

At the young age of

9

10

11

Some worry some tense

Some joke some laugh

As the impending doom

that’s not really there

looms behind the door.

RED, WHITE, BLUE

Limply hanging on

The red, white, and blue fading

Something that once was

POETRY IN GENERAL!

 
first day at school
the other children look into me
for a sign of similar fear



Hushed children
with hushed voices
sit, kneel, huddle

The room around dark and
confused

With the school supplies lonely
the desks neglected

All seeing the hiding group
of hushed children
with hushed voices

Hiding from the
terror
that is not really there

Children giggle
squeal
eyes dart
teeth with braces clamped together

It is now when character is
revealed

At the young age of
9
10
11

Some worry and some tense
Some joke and some laugh

As the impending doom
that is not really there
looms behind the door.

LIMERICKS

     David Simmons:

There once was a man from Illinois
Who was never one for a toy
He became a teacher
And thought he was a preacher
Until he was out-smarted by a boy


      Throwing my Model Off the Roof:
On the building the sat a roof
and on that there stood a goof
He'd throw his model off it
Not for a profit
Just cause he has aloof

FREE VERSE POEM

Grass.


the forgotten blades shift with the wind
wisping and grimacing
though wise and old
It stays shy and cold

it has met the sole of all weary travelers
and the backs of starry-night on-lookers
yet not the caring hands of seasoned gardeners

silent it stays
around the garden it lays
ready to assume it's fresh color green
as it has in countless past Mays

grass stays the same
through all days and days.

Occasional Poetry!

On this day, this fateful day
The condition of households will change into
Frenzy

Though it may be for a time o so short
Frenzy is frenzy, and it will be so

One this day families will look at their televisions
and see pixels
But it is the images that make all the difference

Somewhere in a far-away place,
in a distant stadium, a football (soccer) game is being played

Although not the final
or the semifinal
it is just as important

The US against Brazil
the fateful day has come

The game filled with controvercy
and cheating
and skill
A game where the countries have one goal a piece
and the action simply does not seem to cease.

O so many Odes (or only one)

ODE TO CHRISTMAS EVE:

oh, how you remain in the back of my mind

for spring summer and fall

and how once in a while your songs creep into my head

leaving me yearning for you more than ever

with you loud noises, bright colors

along side quiet sounds and dim lights

leaving me restless until next moring

oh, how the singing and caroling

fills me up 

and how the cookies and cakes

leave me empty

when the family spends all night chatting

and telling jokes

all accompanied with thunderous laughter

and how when the clock hand both stand directly upwards

and people start shuffling out

we drink our last glass of eggnog 

sing our last carol

and tuck ourselves into bed

ready for a sleepless night.

Haikus

The dark lake shimmers

From the blue light off the moon

Silently calling

He pants and tail-wags

His black fur shining off the light

Happy to see us



Up atop the pole,
waves free without oppression,
liberty fires fly.

Slice of life: 4-9-15

        Tintin, my dog, lays casually on the ground. He doesn't know that in a matter of minutes, he will experience a type of mental stimulation that makes use believe that he needs drugs. My dad's friend and his twenty-year-old son are coming visit us, but we consider them a type of family because they are really nice. I hear the car door slam, which causes Tintin's ears to perk up a bit, but not enough to have him get up from his lounge. It amuses me, because I know what he will be like in some time, and I can't believe he can go from this to that.

        I hear their footsteps coming up to the door, my dad with them and greeting his old friend from college and his son. Tintin gets up. He can smell them. He is a really lean and skinny dog with shiny black hair and a little white spot on his chest. He stands in a heroic pose, the frame of a confident and alarmed dog. My dad starts to unlock the house, the first bark come out of Tintin's vocal chords. He sprints to the door and bumps into the wall.