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Sky Jan 2016
Silently thinking about
all things not English
while my classmates discuss
King Lear
I'm just not focused
on insanity and poisonings
and hubris and honor and fate
I'd much rather spill my thoughts
onto this blank white box
Silent musings of all things not English
while my classmates discuss King Lear.
I'm bored in English class... :P
Sky Jan 2016
Well, where has Lear’s fool gone?
He’s simply disappeared from the plot.
Some say that he still walks on,
But I heard that he was left to rot.

A sparrow on the grapevine told me
That he perished by old rival’s hand
Old hatred blinded him so he could not see
As he descended into a darker land.

His rival struck him in the dark of the night
He took the Fool down without a sound
And pulled the body out of sight
He faded into shadows just before the guard could complete his round.

And now Lear’s poor Fool rests underneath an ash tree
His spirit whispering “Never again will a rhyme come from me.”
this was an assignment for my English class...we're reading King Lear
ern kingham Jun 2015
The instructor said,
    Go home and write
    a page tonight.
    And let that page come out of you—
    Then, it will be true.
I wonder if life could really be that simple?
I am twenty, confused, and clinically depressed
I went to therapy, then to inpatient, and now I’m home
to this house that I’ve known since birth,
Depression is not the only thing I feel, so it is not all of me.
But the path down this road has been long, and dark,
Going up hills and making turns, that got me lost sometimes,
But I’m starting to see the light of day,
Everything happens for a reason they say.
My journey isn’t over yet, but I’ll tell you what I’ve learned:

I’m not easy to understand, but nobody is,
at twenty, my age. But I know I am not  just what
I feel and see and hear. Instead I am also  what
I think, and say, and do. Aren’t we all?
The things that define me, aren’t only in my head.
They can be read, and heard, and seen,
My words spoken out loud, or written down are
The decisions I make, such as letting go, or fighting;
Telling a truth, or a lie;  giving, or taking
I guess having depression doesn’t make me a good or bad person
Despite my disorder, I make ordinary choices.
So will my definition of me be alright,
Even if it means, I’m not always delighted to be here.
But I will be here
Just like you are, instructor.
You might be happy with life---
Yet you have your troubles, just as I have mine.
That’s human.
Perhaps you don’t want to be a part of some sad occasions,
Nor do I often want to be a part of them either.
But we are, and that’s life!
As I learn from my mistakes and hard times,
I guess you learn from yours—
although you’re older—and wiser—
and I have less life experience than you.
Jackman May 2015
Right now, a witness I am, of the ever repeating ever progressing world,
Right now, peoples’ different definitions clash in a heavy sticky stew a-broiled; but

Right now, people are looking left, many more looking right,
Right now, the pendulum is walking back - this election is up for a fight.

Right now, the people are like crops waiting for the harvest,
Right now, the farmers are making their “witty” and impulsive agendas they claim are harmless.

Right now, America has no unity - until “POW!” - we are attacked;
Right now, I wish we could fight off our extreme, utmost, and bombarding differences

Right now. To come together. Our woes, sorrows gone.
Right now, achieve safety, happiness for all, and exclusion for none.
Jackman May 2015
Nothing, but a checklist, is a life
Full of tasks people race to complete.
They look straight ahead, and never turn back;
To them, the future is a new frontier
Waiting to be explored until they’re done, but
Everyday is like an assignment they finish,
They wake up to go to sleep;
Checking off their lists with their retired old pens,
They want to do it over again;
Life will always be a checklist.
Jackman May 2015
Gathered around the fireless pit,
The birds rejoicing to the songs;
Of easing melodies and mellow winds - no one sings along.

Tranquil, spontaneous and dynamic
is this place - we are pondering like Owls;
I wish I could sing aloud and be free, but I just sit there afoul.
Lianna Walters Mar 2015
A word majestic in its own,
Poetry is a tool
A path I take to calm down
A direction I go when bland sentences alone can never truly express,
When the words stay trapped in my throat,
Never spoken,
Because I am not able to show my true feelings through spoken words.
I write.
I don’t like to talk.
Because talking leaves room open for disagreement
Talking, airing my thoughts, seems to ******* me.
Leaving me defenseless, a target to aim for.
Poetry is my small way of winning when I can’t win elsewhere,
Poetry is a battle plan,
Poetry is a blueprint
A map to my emotions, my feelings, how I view the world.
Poetry is like a script
When I can’t speak anything from heart,
When I’m sometimes trapped in my mind
And the unspoken, unwritten words catch me in a web,
I write.
I can organize my thoughts in a way that makes sense to me.
My poetry doesn’t have to make sense to others
My poetry doesn’t have to live up to the standards of others
My poetry doesn’t have to meet the status quo
In my poetry
I’m finally free to express
To say something in a society that’s gone at ends to keep me quiet
To finally tear down the walls that have kept me prisoner in the silence
Agree, or shut up, they say.
My poetry doesn’t have to agree
My poetry reflects back to me,
And I’m proud of the sentences made by words strung together
Out of the 26 letters of the alphabet,
Isn’t it amazing?
Get to the point, they say,
But how can I describe what poetry means to me using simple words such as
Happy, sad, and mad?
Give me something to work with here.
You don’t have to like poetry
But I love it.
This was an assignment from english class. Hope you enjoy it!
Tianna Routley Nov 2014
Little drops of his favorite coffee stained his body, residing as freckles.

They show their quiet walks, with massive dogs and shattered mugs.

They show the bright stars that dissapear when the fog creeps up.

They show the times smoke perched against his smooth, spotted fingers.

She aligns his spots like costilations in the twilight sky

As the sun stays longer, and those mornings are chirp, those freckles apear like April rain showers

They show their stolen kisses when she pouts her warm lips like a new born baby

They show each time she's fallen in love with him, lost within his eyes

Quiet morning couch, he grins at her and sips at his coffee
She starts to count
This is a rough draft of some little free verse, but it makes me happy...
Simon Avenson Oct 2014
The burden of a thousand sheets of paper
all with the design to make me smart.
A thousand sheets of paper, so that when I grow up, I can play the part.

the dancing it induces
and the embarrassment that dancing brings

The Day
let the Sun conform you to society's needs.
it can't be that bad, right?

****** drawings and half-assed notes
reminding me that there is room for improvement
and that I am also really bad at drawing.

a reminder of simpler times
always stay young.

A snorkel
so that if I am sinking underneath the waves of society
I may yet still be able to breath.

A nut, as a reminder that we all had a starting place
and to remind us that we all had humble beginnings.
that there will be time enough for growing.

A ***** dish
to signify that there are always ways you can help others
and that you should clean up after yourself

and successes
and those things between them which seem to be neither.

The Night
A time for Stars to shine
and the Moon to show its true self, don't be afraid.

Blank Space
for things yet to be discovered
and things not meant to be discovered.

A failing corpse, mine
A remnant of my youth, not quite gone
but on life support, don’t leave.

Borrowed Pencils
I should return those.

A poem, the final draft
written with a clouded mind
and an optimistic soul.

All these things
yet room for more
full, yet in truth empty, like my stomach after lunch.
Had to write a poem for one of my English Classes
We were just kids,learning the life
A 14, your birthday a big surprise
At 15, a bunch of kids seizing the hopes
sitting for the test, learning the ropes

I hope to see you soon to know you're okay
I hope I meant to you as you meant to me
3 years later,we've chosen a different way
We passed in order to be free

We thought we would stick together
But lives change like the weather
Our voice would echoe in the wells of light
If I knew you were all copying just fine

Are you materializing your far-to-reach dreams
'cause I try to,the world upside down how it feels?
Did you notice the leaves changing in the fall?
We'll be grown ups in a while, still miss you all

I hope to see you soon to know you are okay
I know we chased down the end of the rainbow
3 years later,we've chosen a different shade
In order to be us,no one to follow

— The End —