Amanda May 12
On a wooden shelf textbook waits
Harboring facts, knowledge, dates
Each year summer brings needed rest
After each final, each test.

But summer is gone and school has begun
So away with freedom, the warmth of the sun
To a teenage girl, textbook goes
What horrors await? Textbook doesn't know.

Hurled in a locker, metal slams
Smothered by a shirt that says "Go Rams!"
Shoved in a backpack, do not suffocate?
Can't miss the school bus, hurry, don't be late!

Scribbled and doodled on, "It tickles!" It screams
But teenage girl doesn't realize silence is not what it seems
Spilled soda burns; acid sweet
Bubbling suffering unimaginable heat

Left on a desk, a window so close
Pages now stick, it is so gross
With its strength the textbook flies
It has just commited suicide.
An old one I wrote for school in 10th grade
Daniel Ruiz May 9
Why can't I write about her?
My feelings are true to the core
But, as I'm searching in some forgotten lore
I see that my intentions aren't true.
Love isn't something you find at first sight,
Love isn't something you seek but on the contrary,
Love seeks the ones that follows.
It burns everytime I speak,
Everytime I say your name my throat
Burst out in flames,
While I get a little startled when the sun caresses your face,
I understand.
Meanwhile I cry in this lost echoed room
You can hear the whining form a different tune,
The inferno I raise every time I speak
I feel every inch of it in this estatic world of yours,
I feel things no human ever dared felt before,
I can't control this emotion,
Nor I can let it control me,
But every time you sing It feels like every bone in my body wouldn't move
If it wasn't In the name of you.
So,why can't I control this petrified little boy?
Who's terrified to lose something he doesn't have?
Because time stops everytime my eyes meet with yours,
And I would lose everything,
And that everything would be you.

⁃ Just Blank
Gracie Knoll Apr 29
Have you ever noticed that friendships are like books?

A new Friend is like a well acclaimed  book that you just can't put down, as you wait to see if it is really all it was cracked up to be.

An old Friend is that trustworthy favourite with bent pages and peeling cover that you turn back to year after year.

A good Friend is the book that always brings a smile to your face, making the hard, dull parts of life seem worth living.

A best friends is that one book that you can inexplicably never part with. It's less exciting, less acclaimed, less popular than the other books on your shelf. But no matter how hard you try, you can never replace that well thumbed treasure with the newer, flashier releases everyone else seems so taken with.

My heart is a library full of well thumbed or ignored stories that fill the pages of my daily existence.

Even the forgotten titles of friendships past fill an essential part of my being.

Without them I would be an empty page.
Aa Harvey Apr 25
The thought beetle.


There is a little thought beetle deep within my mind;
He is going around, searching for a rhyme.
He digs out my unconscious thoughts
And helps me to write another line.
When his work is done, he hibernates
And I sit back and smile.  


The ladybird flutters around inside my head;
She is in search of the pages, I haven't written yet.
She zips and darts, flitting from here to there;
She is always in a hurry and she is a nervous wreck.  


The worm is just turning another corner, in my brain's maze;
He's having a look around, to see if there's anything I need to say.
Anything I forgot to mention; he will find what needs to be said.
The slowly moving worm is lazy, but he is useful in his own way,


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Helene Marie Mar 31
I knew you so well...
You were
the one book on the shelf
that I knew from
cover to cover
until a stranger
rewrote
all of your pages
Natasha Mar 30
I could never tell you
exactly what's going on inside my head,
so I'll write instead.
Drown my thoughts in paper & lead.
Keep my hands alive,
and my expression dead.
Poetic T Mar 17
The reminders we set on life calendar,
        to show why we live for this moment.
As if we were unaware.We may forget
                       this is the moment to live,
      not the forget me not's.
        That a lights gone out,
being our own,
          and the days we counted on are bare.

We set reminders to ourselves to make sure
                               that everyday is precious.
That we awaken day-today knowing its a page
that turns on the calendar of our existence.

"Remember we are only pages,
                      and everyday they turn or were empty
,
Devin Ortiz Mar 6
Before, I wrote of Masks.
Mutilated stories of written flesh.
A carnal retelling of misfortune,
In the pages I wore upon my face.

Now, I am just another Mask.
A solo sonnet amongst scoreless faces
Beyond them, a broken boy
Hostage to disharmony.
Sanjali Mar 5
You have ceased to be the thought of my mornings,
You no longer comfort my nights,
Somehow you stopped telling the story
And the pages weren’t visible to the light.

As I thought I reached closer to the book,
You hid it deeper away.

I don’t search for your letters anymore,
And I seem to like it this way.
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