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Debbie Stevens Oct 2017
All my life I was lost and clueless,
growing up with no filter and foolishness.
With no family to love and care for me,
I don't know how they could leave and betray me.

No eyes focused on me because of my low I.Q,
my life has changed because of the help from a few.
With scientists helping me to become smart,
I am now realizing my life from the start.

All hopes come crashing down,
I'm going back to looking like a clown.
It was great while it lasted,
all I want to say is don't take life for granted.
I wrote this poem in relation to the book "Flowers for Algernon" as an assignment for my english class.
I sit staring into the wind
With an empty mind
Clueless of what to think
Aimless of what to do .

This feeling troubles me
It vexes me .
I can't find the balance .

Can I do them together
Or do I have to choose
This can't be forever
Hell! What have I got to lose

The question isn't either this or that
The question, is can you bring them both under the same hat .

As I write this, I think I can
Well I have got to ,
For I am a man
Do I have to choose between my studies and poetry . I hope I find the right balance .
Mia Sep 2019
Am I really where I want to be?
Is this the path I chose, or the safest I picked?
Is there truly a prize at the end of this road?
And if there is, can I reach it wholeheartedly?

There is like a wall between me and those around me.
I don’t belong; I’m missing something.
I don’t have that unyielding passion.
I am bothered by too many things.

So I should just run away!
Run towards my goal, ***** the beaten path!
The scream of my soul will drown out the hardships!
This! Is! Who! I! Am!

If only it were that easy…
Can you always go back? Or is there a point of no return in life?
Penmann Jun 2019
I had a **** childhood
But at least the music was good
Take my diplomas,
shake them, break them,
write me a few lines
worthy of this feeling.

Certificates! Shields, armour
that I have surreptitiously collected
to delay the terrifying decision
of what my life might be about.

I have wandered this lonely wilderness,
and now I hope to inhabit hearts:
no, just one would be enough,
sure, yours, you, reading these words:
you will do! Just one reader, just one–
if I could move one human,
it wouldn’t all have been a waste,
it would be exactly
as it should have been.
AshJ Dec 2018
The table that remains a mere desk on usual days
Is now a study for me.
The hours that seem persistent to tick when bored,
Now seem to race me.

Books all around me, pen marks stain my hands that either remain clenched
In a hammering motion while memorising or
Tracing lines, page by page.
Yes, taking snaps of breaks while drawing an absurd portrait of a dog.
Creativity, I won't suppress you if you chose a better hour.

Warm tears swell up in my eye.
In the debate of no drive and greed for success.
"Scores don't matter!", "Studies are important" comments flying cross the room.
But not louder than the bedlam behind these eyes that droop.

Why don't I accept the turn out when I know I hadn't worked hard.
This greed that never stirs at the last piece of apple-crumble-with-cinnamon-hint,
Now panting like a flesh-hungry varmint.
"Success does not equal A+ on the report!"
Replying through the heavy breaths, "Right, however its only those A+'s that run the world."

Although I'm aware an ideas' value is the heaviest.
Beating the high scoring mass, looking over it in disdain.
I knock my head to spring some out.
Back to the table, stooping over the book aiming for the higher grade.
Gates and Zuckerberg have definitely proved it's an idea that takes to stir the world and make it spin on your pinky. But what if I don't seem to have an idea? Can I just sit waiting for it to pop? Left with no choice we all go after the a+, don't we?
Others’ are silenced in my imagination.
Conventions have flowered and gone to seed.
I stand here on empty lands,
Seeing nothing but beauty embracing death,
As it’s always been.
A series of short verse for a new illustrated book about Vincent van Gogh.
Examples of work can be seen on IG  - @yellowstonestudio
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