Nostalgia


That which is old does not always lose its value...


I was digging through one of the many piles on my desk when I found a folder of older poems from my freshman and sophmore years of high school. Some of them aren't half bad, and others only needed a little revision, so I decided to put the best of them up here. There are a variety of moods and styles. Enjoy your trip through my past!

Poems


Live your own life.
Do your own thing.
Grant your own dreams.
Make your own rules.
It's all up to you.


empty-hearted room

where she once

played

empty now

it echoes   silence


Glass slippers
Crunch beneath my feet
Snow drifts down
So cold
A prince's kisses
Seem so sweet
But not when they're
Bought with gold
That's why I left
The ball behind
And muddied my gown
On the road
Though the prince may search
It's not I he will find
I'd rather go
Find me a toad!

Courage is...
standing apart from the crowd
looking forward to the future
helping someone who is lost
making friends with a stranger
letting go of hate
Loving without reservation.

The lamp is lift beside the golden door
But the gilt is flaking.
And the homeless that enter
Will remain...homeless.
Hope needs more than a place
And liberty more than a statue
For freedom to ring in the hearts of men.


Screaming echoes in my ears
From inside my head
Living is so empty, drear
I'd nearly rather be dead.
But pain that tears is pain that pulls
And it somehow pulls me on --
Besides, the suicides are fools
For then it's Death that's won.

I will punch, kick, scream, and yell.
I will cry and curse.
I will do anything.
The one thing I will never do is give up.


May we meet again
On the road, my friend
May you find the part
That eludes your heart

  From the bottom of a bottomless pit

I stare up at the sky;

  The sun stares back at me

And laughs.

  A lyrical and lovely bird

Perches on the rim;

  I throw a rock at it

And it falls down dead.

  I live in the bottom of a well

The water covers over me;

  The water of sorrow and pain

Water you can't even drown in.


standing in a canyon
shouting at the walls;
not even echoes reply.

On My Way Home
This is what i saw:
   Silv'rd branches, like moonlight
held; a shining sycamore --
   Weighted with saffron buds ready to
burst; wilding forsythia --
   Landing before with a midnight shuck, shuck
whisp'ring; an ebon crow.


My heart is dead
My mind goes soon
I threw the first
To catch the moon
But fell far short
And now it's gone
I guess bright Luna
Was not the one
Now missing a heart
I've lost all hope
And my mind slides down
The slippery slope
Into bleak despair
Where I'm all alone
That's where I've made
My desolate home
And my only hope
However small
Is that I can die
After all.

What happened to childhood?
I thought
Children were happy
Free to enjoy life
As only they can.
But now it seems
Innocence is no longer
Something to be held dear.
Children can kill.
Children can die.
What happened to childhood?


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