sun

this poem i actually wrote in middle school. why? i don't know.

the harmful rays of the sun
shine down
the heat melts human flesh
but from a distance it's pretty
yellow, orange, and red
burn like fire
the sun is our energy
we need it

middle school dance

this poem i actually wrote in middle school. why? i don't know.

i enter the gym
the music is blasting
my friends come up to me
we all dance
suddenley the music fades
a slow song comes on
boys surround me
asking me to dance
i reply with a no to all
i sit down on a bench
and begin to think about him
the one that i love the most
the on who's not here
"may i have this dance?" says a voice
i look up
it's him
i am speechless
but i grab his hand
he leads me out onto the dance floor
a new slow song plays
we begin to dance
he holds me close to him
i can feel the heat from his body
feel the beating of his heart
hear him breathing in and out
smell his strong cologne
soon he whispers something in my ear
"do you love me?"
i looked up at him and into his eyes
those beautiful eyes
the ones i can get lost in
i slowly inch closer to his face
and then
we kiss
i back away slowly
hoping he knows my answer
he says nothing
just stand there
staring at me
i feel tears start to well up in my eyes
i begin to walk away
but he soon pulls me back
holding me again
even closer to him
"i love you too" he says
and then he kisses me
my eyes stay wide open in shock
but then they slowly close
as i embrace the kiss
feeling his lips on mine
and loving it
the song changes
the music is blasting again
but we remained attached
still kissing
our lips still touching
moving in harmoney through passion
all because of a dance
just on single dance

nightmare

this poem i actually wrote in middle school. why? i don't know.

the town is pitch black
suddenly lightning flashes
thunder roars
i hear rushing wind
it's coming towards me
what could it be?
a hurricane?
tornado?
i try to run away
but my foot's caught
i scream
hoping someone would hear me
there's no response
my body is lifted up
up high into the air
the wind comes to a stop
i fall to the ground
"this is it." i think
"this is how i die"
i almost hit the ground

suddenly i wake up
beads of sweat roll down my neck
i'm sitting up in bed
it was just a dream
nothing but a nightmare

dream

this poem i actually wrote in middle school. why? i don't know.

i wake up
but not in my bed

i'm lying on a cloud
i slowly sit up
the sky is lit up with beauty

it's golden with a hue of pink
a sweet scent is in the air
it smells like roses

i look around
surrounded me is a lake
nearby is a flowing waterfall

it's perfect
i dip a toe into the water
not to hot, not to cold
the perfect temperature

i jump in
and then i hit the ground

i wake up and look around
i'm in my room
on the floor
i must have been dreaming

i crawl back into bed
close my eyes
and wish
wish i can dream that sweet dream again

unread

once again ap english poems

do not enter
my door is open
as you walk through
funny
since i speak the opposite

35 miles
why do i even bother
if you continue to zoom past
ignoring my words

upside down
how can you read me
if my ground is the sky
and my ceiling the dirt

beauty secrets

more ap english poems

scent
i pluck you up
taking a deep breath
i sigh because of your
floral scent
then cap you and put you back
in my garden of perfumes

mud
funny
how you don't
wanna touch me
unless you pay
hundreds of dollars

nature and socity

more poems i had to write for ap english.

bambie
we destory your home
kill your mother
but you still come back to us
hungry for our lawns

king of the forest
in green you are the king
but here in the suburds
you are seen as nothing
but dinner
as we eat away your kingdom

migration
we take your home
so why are we upset
when you come
to visit ours

words of my own creation

i wrote this for my ap english class when we were studying some of walt whitman. we were told to create a poem based off whitman's poem "song of myself". let's see if you can get any of my referrences.

1

i celebrate myself, and sing myself
words such as these are not mine
but are borrowed from someone else
they are simply words
words, words, words as the prince said

but  those are more borrowed words
that flow from the pen of the other writers

so what words are original?
what words are my own?
what words are yours?

2

where do these words originate?
the do not just come from the pen
there must be someone to think them

we do it all the time
talking every single day as long as we aren't mute
but words aren't always remembered
so they must be unique in order to linger

poets, novelists, artist,
they're the ones who hold the secret
creative and imaginative they creat them
words that spark someone's interest
keeping the fire alive within their head

3

i'm a writer, an artist at hand
piecing together my world within my head
then creating them on the page

through mediums of graphite, ink, paint, pastel,
       chalk, crayon
creating both pictures and sentences
each telling a story through many words
words of my own creation

ode to the crazies

written for my AP English class when we were studying odes.

cheers to those with their minds so far away
with free jokes which won’t cost you any money
who’s crazy antics always brighten my day

out of their mouths is always something funny
like a random British accent or saying
on their head’s an imaginary bunny

all it took was a broom to the head making
the princess happy that they are there for him
then backstage they teach him to dance or trying

they do not try to act all proper and prim
both of their minds too advanced to make any sense
they’re crazy but they’re my friends and I love them

shedding

death and decay fall
the ground gains it's nutrients
the trees lose their leaves

burnt

during the solstice
red spread across my body
please grab the aloe

allergic

pollen in the air
it enters in my nostils
i'm about to sneeze

cold

a frozen desert
of powder brings it's sickness
run inside for heat