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All those books they made us read,
The smelly yellow-pagers
That weighed as heavy as the guilt
We felt as "zombie teenagers";

Do we remember anything?
The names of the main characters,
Or maybe, who died in the end--
Or the ones who were in pictures?

It wasn't that we hated books--
We didn't understand them;
Before the teacher's spiritless voice
Made us slowly condemn them.

"Memorize the vocab words,
And don't forget the spelling!"
Was that the point of literature?
But definitions aren't compelling.

So all those hours in English Lit,
The days spent reading Steinbeck,
Were soured by the grouchy face
Always looming over my desk.

I always wished someone would say,
"This isn't boring, here's why:"
But I was told to shut up and read
When sometimes I wanted to cry:

"I hate this story! Nobody's happy!
And everyone's messed up!
It doesn't make sense to force it on us
When we're already stressed out."

But we had to read it, because they had to read it
When they were young in school.
This book had an impact in history:
So now, reading it is a rule.

So if it's a must, that's fine, then.
But...why don't we make it fun?
Or talk about the psychology
And learn something when we're done?

A book can't be everyone's favorite.
We're all different people inside.
But please try to make us all interested
With wisdom only you can provide.
Steinbeck, Dickens, Orwell, Bronte, Fitzgerald, all those depressing writers that we were forced to read. I only liked Edgar Allen Poe, and that's saying something!
The heart that beats within me now
Was silent for a while:
Shouldering the guilt of years
And clothed in my denial.

And when, those blurry months ago,
It stirred to life again,
I tried to still my beating heart
The way it was back then.

I should have known, I should have seen
Through my soul's sad disguise;
But ev'ry time I saw the truth
I quickly closed my eyes.

The heartbeat in my shackled chest
Was loud, but I was louder.
Sticking fingers in my ears,
I hummed to quell the doubter.

"Your heart's alive! It beats again!
The fears you loved have faded."
But I felt safe behind the bars
My jailed heart had created.

So, silently, this gentle Trust
That I had never known
Came whisp'ring through to save my heart
Of flesh, and not of stone.

Trust wrapped its arms around me
And lifted up my soul
From depths of blue obscurity
And I gave up control.

I opened up my eyes that day
And though they shone with tears,
The hurting heart inside of me
Felt stronger than those fears.
1-2 Sept 9, 2016 and 3-8 Feb 4, 2017
Hold onto me
When memory
Is pulling on my wings;
Your arms around,
When I break down,
They heal what sadness stings.

Protect me here
And hold me near
When fear reaches to claw me;
You hold my hand
When I can't stand
And in my panic calm me.

When worries come
And flutter from
Anxiety's dark cave:
You fight them back,
Stop their attack
And keep me strong and brave.
depression, panic attacks, and anxiety.
 Jan 2017 Bree
May ravens sing to you
May they brighten Winter's dreary walks
As fallen leaves crunch beneath your feet
And the sky grows a melancholy gray
May cheerfulness run forth to greet you
With happy, outstretched arms
May no rain or darkness sadden your day
May only beauty, wishes, and dreams
Dance inside your head
Happy Birthday, Dad!

Sorry for my long absence from HP!!
We (my parents and I) have had a LOT
Come up lately, so if I'm not always
On here reading and writing poetry, please understand!!
However today I knew I had to write something...
Today is my Dad, Timothy's birthday!!
Sorry if this doesn't sound like my usual style,
But it was quite randomly written!!!
Enjoy anyways!!!! :) <3
There’s not much left to write about
Happiness and sadness are gone
Instead, I’ve traversed the subjects
And they all left me fighting a scream.

Anxiety’s clutched at my heartstrings
Dampening, muting their song
But now I’m going to break free
And dive into life headlong.

I’ll play videogames and write some poems
And do all the things that I miss
For while once this was time-wasting, never
Shall I waste a day anxious for this.

I guess anxiety’s got its perks, but
The one thing it gets me to do
Is work ‘till I have no more work, but
I had nothing to do at all, so I’m blue.
plant a seed down deep
it must die before it grows
but then it will rise
and be greater than ever
closest and strongest of all.
It's been a little while since I decided
since I started telling everyone who asked
since I posted it in every corner
since I declared my major.

But what if I don't want to be a teacher?
What if I go off to college,
and I suddenly have the courage to do
what I didn't want to do before?

I'm afraid that it won't work
afraid I can't make it work
afraid to let go and fall
because what if it falls through?

All I want to do is music,
and yes,
I'm minoring in music
and honestly
I could be a teacher
but I'm rethinking that.

I know I don't have to go with the career
that matches my major,
and that I could finish out a teacher's license
and then go on to music.

But I could be so much more prepared!
There's so much more I could do
if I majored in Songwriting, Music Performance, or Worship Ministries.
What should I do?

What can I do?
I can take generic classes now,
ones that can count for any major,
and choose later.

But how long can I wait?
I'll just have to be patient
and wait for His guidance
because He knows what I should do.
What do you think I should do?
Twilight and
The moonrise

They dictate
Time and sight
Without be
No more light.
Your love is algebra
I can't find the formula
If I could find the right calculator,
I could define your euphoria.

Your love is geometry
I can't find the angles
If I could prove your theories,
It wouldn't be a shambles.

Your love is trigonometry
I can't figure it out
If I spent an entire notebook, perhaps
I'd still have doubts.

Your love is a mystery
Just as the greatest math
Although worth much,
Seems irrelevant to my path.
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