Untitled
Recycled
Scheduled
Battled
Rattled

I like writing poems
I love writing poems
But am I good enough?
I try my best, in other poems...

What can I do to be famous?
Maybe don't be so aimless
And try to be a little more gracious
How do I write without fear?
Don't listen, to everything you hear

I am the only one left
And it seems like a mighty theft
Am I the only one that cares,  
When I feel nothing in the air?

First there is red
The one that is always in the lead
And always at the head

Then there is orange
Who opens the rainbow like a door hinge
And symbolizes a challenge

Next up is yellow
And he is a good fellow
Who always greets with hello

Here comes green
Who is never ever mean
Who's look is always keen

Meanwhile, we look at blue
Who dresses in the nicest hue
One of the best to view

Finally, is purple
Who is very very simple
And always has a cute dimple

As I watch the clock
I feel the boat rock
And watch the dock
Then up comes the boat
Covered up with a black coat

I feel the chill of the breeze
And I look down at the once blue seas
Now filled with pleas
Because now it is gray
Like a stray

Others board in a hurry
But what is there to worry?
Except it might be a long journey
I take my time
Thinking of my past time

We are in the classroom
I look outside
The first thing I see
Are the colorful green trees
Bright and dark
Tones and hues
It is art
Low and high
Shadows and shades
It is art