Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
Storm winds from the west
Send us scurrying down the plank
Steps into the dank basement
Sounds become deafening as the
Skies darken

Whatever is happening
Is only visible through a four-paned
Window no larger than a newspaper

At age seven this is all new
Thunder, lightening, storms
Have come and gone
Usually starting in the west
Among growing and billowing clouds
This time the darkness is heavy
Winds blow straight yet swirl simultaneously

A look of fear covers his mother’s face
Unlike any he has seen before
His father, a man of few words and a placid personality
Forces new wrinkles upon his worried forehead

The hay barn slides across the yard
Walking as though each wall has legs
Slowly collapsing, it crumbles into the granary
Once it lands the storm begins to abate
They will survive
Slowly, step by step his father, then his mother
And finally he ascend to view what damage
Has occurred.  One view and he knows the answer
The devastation is substantial
Survival, storms, childhood
Olive 3d
We used to sit in the sun
on an old mattress behind the church house.
We talked about our families,
and about our Sunday school lessons.
Sometimes we told jokes our Sunday school teachers
would not have approved of.
But when our other friends found us,
I pretended that I never laughed at our jokes,
even though I had.
This poem is a part of a project documenting memories of a character
Olive 3d
I decided I was in love with you
because you told me it was okay
that I struck out every time in baseball,
and because you didn't pick me last
when you were team captain.
But why was that all it took
for me to declare my love for a boy?
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
Olive 3d
I had a favorite shirt
with pictures of cute dogs on it.
But you told me
that girls shouldn't wear shirts like that to church
because it wasn't pretty enough.
I never wore it to church again.

I never wore it again.
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
Olive 3d
You took me to the very upstairs of the church,
and then even higher
to the bell tower,
where we pulled the rope and sounded the bell
after church was over. Then we ran away
and hid under the pews.
We must have been good hiders, because
we never got in trouble.
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
Olive 3d
All I remember about you
is your first name
and that I laughed at you a lot.
But you were a little mean.
I didn't even think you were funny,
but I felt like I had to laugh.
Why did I feel like I had to laugh?
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
Olive 3d
You were the only boy I knew,
so I figured we would probably have  to get married
and that was all I knew.
We used to hide in the bushes behind your house
And pretend we were married.
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
Olive 3d
You are always younger, but
always still make me a little nervous.
Maybe it's your voice.
Maybe it's your face.
Maybe it's how you aren't afraid to talk to people,
but you never talk to me.
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
Olive 3d
I'd known you for all five years of my life
when I learned we are cousins.
I envied the seven months of wisdom you had
more than me.
You had a dog I loved
and a stuffed cat that purred.
You saw the elephants in Chiang Mai
seven months before I did.
This poem is a part of a project documenting small but significant memories in a character's life.
Lily 3d
Every day after school I ran through it,
Skirting around the trunks,
Ducking under the leaves,
My laughter echoing through the trees.
My cherry orchard.
My friends used to walk through it,
And when they got to my house,
They would always have red stains
On the bottoms of their shoes from
My cherry orchard.
Every year when the blossoms came out
In early May, I would take pictures for
Hours, enjoying the peace,
Playing with the symmetry when you looked down a row in
My cherry orchard.
And even though the trees were
Stripped from the ground and burned
I still visit it,
My friends still walk through it,
And every year I will look back at
My pictures and remember
My cherry orchard.
The cherry orchard across the street I've always thought of as mine was destroyed, but I'll never forget it.
Next page