Love

Love is like

A giant bipolar lion

With the clever mind and intuition of a human, yet

The most unpredictable of moods

The lion walks up to you

Sometimes you see it coming

Sometimes it sneaks up behind you, and stands there until you suddenly realize it's there

And wonder how long it's been standing there without you noticing

Sometimes you welcome it with open arms, wondering where it’s been all this time

Sometimes you try to run, try to hide, try to break it with sticks and rocks, until you trip in vines and succumb to the awesome force.

Sometimes you accept it as reality, and don't question why it's chosen you, focusing instead on what to do about it

This lion, it does strange things

You can never tell whether it will offer you warmth and protection

Whether it will offer to shield you from the rain in its thick, soft hide and roar away preying foes

Or if it will turn its sharp, dangerous teeth on you

Leave you wounded and bleeding in the cold, wondering if you'll ever be quite the same, if your deep, bloody wounds will ever scab over.

Sometimes - rarely - this lion will come up to you, sniff at you, then walk away, leaving you standing there wondering what on earth just happened.

Sometimes it will act your friend, then betray you

Sometimes it will be your savior, then decide to turn on you

Sometimes it will fill your life with terror and fear of the sharp white fangs, or warmth and longing of the soft, warm pelt

Then walk away

Love is like a giant bipolar lion

Impossible to tell what it will do

The lion visits everyone, whether they like it or not

Each time it acts differently. Each time liking you a little more, or a little less.

You can never see where it will go

What will happen

Once you've looked into the lion's eyes

Your life is changed forever, and you can never turn back.

Soaked in His Own Blood

Soaked in his own blood

Shot with his own gun

Stabbed with his own knife

Beaten in his own fight

Traitorous, murderous, treacherous schemes

Turned against him and painted the sad, bloody scene

A friend turn and snatched the knife from his own belt

While his back turned away, the blow to him delt

He trusted too much and was too certain with vows

He lost sight of the fact that friends can turn to foes

And so there he lays, soaked in his own blood

Pouring out from wounds in a gruesome red flood

And yet, still alive, heart will doggedly pounding

His pulse and his breath still stubbornly sounding

In agony, in pain, and yet not let to die

Staring up with pain-blinded eyes and questioning, why?
Why me? Why my friend? Why must my trust also die?

He gasps and he sputters and draws long, labored breaths.

He feels the ice on his face: feels the cold kiss of death

He smiles, is glad to at last be let go

But relief is far, and traveling slow

There’s time still, to lie in the puddle of red

Think of the betrayal wrought, on the message that’s sent

A good man lies dying, soaked in his own blood

While those that he trusted and those that he loved

Look down on him, and think of his death to be good.

Soaked in his own blood

Shot with his own gun

Stabbed with his own knife

Beaten in his own fight

Night of Romance

You asked me to dance with you

And I said yes

You took my hand, led me out to the floor

And we danced

You said I looked beautiful

And I blushed pink

I told you, you looked better, and you said

Not possible

The instruments sang to us

Us, side by side

Your hand on my waist, mine on your shoulder

Together

We didn’t speak; only danced

But then I saw

I looked up into your eyes, your blue eyes

You were sad

Something wrong

In your head

I asked you what had happened

And you said

That when the clock struck 12, you would be gone

The clock struck 12

You ran away, you left me

I recall

I stretched my hand out to try and reach you

But you were gone

It was a night of romance

Just one night

School Dance

This poem is a metaphor. I don't know just how obscure the metaphor is, but just in case it doesn't make sense to you, this represents my experience so far with love and relationships.

Standing in the room alone

Well out of social dancing zone

Lights are flashing, music pounding

The drumming in my head confounds me

I regret the decision to come to this place

I see not a single familiar face

Strangers swarm all around

No advice on what to do is found

I should have just stayed home to write

Simply avoided this whole plight

But now I’m stuck against the wall

Praying for hurricane, tornado, rescue by squall

I see kids dancing, looking happy

Some dance slow, and some are wacky

Where did they learn to do what they do?

Who was it that taught them how to get through?

Do some just instinctively know how to act?

I wish this science wasn’t so abstract

How does one act at a dance?

Surely there’s more to it than simply to prance

I’m too confused, and having no fun

Please, just let this dance me done!

It’s time to leave, I have to go

I must get out and cease my woe

People around me continue their joy

But I’ve had enough; this dance has cloyed

I walk away trying not to look back

Trying not to think of the mentality I lack

I won’t be attending a dance again

Until I’m ready, I will simply abstain

Maybe someday I’ll figure it out

But until then, I would prefer to be without

Such a Lovely Winter's Day

Winds whip swirls of ice around

Tossing snow up from the ground

Blue skies covered up in grey

But despite the drear, our moods stay gay

The air is cold with chilly bite

Freezing up some icy sights

The pine trees are all capped in snow

that glitters and sparkles, so white it glows

A steaming mug of sweet, hot tea

Warms the ice inside of me

Melts my worries, fears and stress

All sweet and kind the winter’s blessed

The landscape’s beauty is elation

Joy is spread across the nation,

through the world and then beyond

For who shan’t hear the winter’s song?

Children merry in the the snow

Though ice falls and cold winds blow,

the air is sweet and crisp and gives

a feeling that the season lives!

Inside the house a fire roars

Healing mental wounds and sores

Popcorn pops and cocoa steams

Snowflakes dance within our dreams

On such a lovely winter’s day

Moods cannot simply not be gay

We’re happy and we speak with cheer

With beauty and our loved ones near

Perfect Imperfection

My most recently written. I actually wrote just a couple hours ago. Please enjoy. 

Certain things in life are perfect

But no one cares about those

I don’t care about the clear blue sky or a fresh fluffy bathrobe

Boring

I care about the perfectly imperfect

I care when hearts are broken and lives are changed

I care when there is pain and death; don’t we all?

When things are perfect, why care?

Nothing to work for, nothing to better

No reason to focus on it

But when things are imperfect, they capture my mind

They draw it in and puzzle it with a task

How to fix the imperfect?

When things are perfectly good, we smile

We tell ourselves it’s good, and that’s all we want

When things are perfectly bad, we frown

And give up hope, for what purpose does worry serve?

Why bother to care when it serves no benefit?

So we don’t care.

When things are perfectly imperfect…we work

A problem to solve, an idea to ponder

Thoughts to work out, help to seek

Challenges to overcome, things to do, so many things to do

We crave the perfect good

But we enjoy it not

Only that which is imperfect

May satisfy the human craving

May sate our working minds and cure our boredom

Only that which is imperfect

Is what makes our lives worth living

In utopia, there is nothing

Nothing of consequence, nothing to care about

But in this world of problems
of solutions, of curiosity and achievement

In this world of imperfection, we thrive

What is Love?

This is another poem from 8th grade, so perhaps not quite as good as some of my more recent ones. but I thought it went well with my poem "Loathing of Love"; this provides my young and curious perspective, the next my experienced and scarred perspective.


Enjoy:

Love

What is it?

They say love is fireworks

Bursting with fire and color and light

One sudden BOOM that's at first such a fright

Then a long, lovely display of wonder and sight

They say that love is a like a long river ride

Sometimes a slow, cool, long drift in the sun

Sometimes the rapid are hit, never fun

Overall a heavenly stroll is what's run

They that love is like sinking to sleep

That feeling you get when you finally rest

After a long day of fighting and stress

A dreamland, a wonderland, and feeling the best

They say that love is the stab of a knife

That once you fall in you can never get out

That to living hell, love is always the route

You're always left broken for it never works out

They say that love is like smashing a vase

When you feel as though somebody ripped out your heart

And hurled it far, from your body it parts

And it shatters into millions of pieces

They say that love is the loudest of silence

When you feel just so empty that it presses down hard

Like your life has gone missing and left somewhere far

And the only thing left is the unfadable scar

They say that love doesn't even exist

That it's all an illusion, deception of eyes

That it's all just a devastating, huge pack of lies

A demon that's flaunting an innocent disguise

They say that love is everything in minds

Love is just all emotions wrapped up into one

While someone feels anger, another feels fun

But eventually, it's every emotion that's spun

Me? I don't know, I don't know about love

For love still has yet to strike me

I say it just is what it is, and that's all there is too it

It's not the conclusion, but the reason, that I seek

Loathing of Love

Love, why do you do this to us?

Give pain and spread grief, it’s clear that you must

Is there a purpose to the lives that you ruin?

All those lives, of nearly every last human?

Never you do let anyone escape

No, you simply walk in, and their lives you invade

Few ask for love, and many don’t want it

And yet there are no lucky souls that you ever omit

Your function is torture, your result is pain

You snap people up and wrap them in chains

It matters not their choice of what love they want

You ignore pleads, and force them to take what they’ve got

WHY, love, why won’t you just go away?

Why won’t you leave us in peace, why must you stubbornly stay?

I hate you, I wish that you’d never existed

I hate you and the way that my life you have twisted

You RUINED me, you ruined my life and my soul

And never again, shall I ever be whole

LEAVE, love, LEAVE

Leave my life, just go!

I want to live happy, but I can’t while you grow

I loathe you with hatred that words can’t describe

Absence from you is what all would prescribe

Get out of my life, I want you gone!

I hate you, and all of the misery you spawn

Do you understand the effect that you have?

Have you ever felt and experienced the pain that you give?

Do you know what it’s like underneath your burning grip?

Have felt you the lash of your very own whip?

Because if you had, then you’d never be the same

Your heart left shattered, your soul crippled and lame

Long ago, we people must have committed great sin

Something worthy of the heaven’s mighty chagrin

For what else have we done to deserve such as love?

There was something that angered the great above

You are a punishment, a torment, created for naught but pain

You were made for the purpose of minds’ and souls’ slay

I loathe you, you’ve caused me such horrid agony

Just leave already! Please, just let me be!

A World as it Once Used to Be

Remember the world as it once used to be

With nature run wild, living happy and free

No tampering of humans with what lives and grows

None of the hideous, unnatural, industrial foes

Before cars, before roads, before lumber and power

Before oil, before plastic, before life grew so sour

Nary a jackhammer heard anywhere

Zero of industry’s hardships to bear

The trees grew so high, hardly could one see top

Flowers grew thick in bright colorful mops

The air was so sweet and the sweetness so fresh

The bushes so rampant, they formed solid mesh

When it came to food, why, nature provided the feast!

Freshly picked berries and natural grown meat!

We ate all the things we adapted to eat

Not horrible, mutated, something-like-wheat

Never amid were clouds of poisonous smog

Closest we came was clean, natural fog

The oceans were pure and a habitable place

With chemicals and poisons they never were laced

The streams clear and sweet, bubbling fresh and cool

If hot, one could swim in a crystal clear pool

The grass soft and green, reaching upwards towards light

The wild flowers bursting with color and life

One could hike for days throughout damp, mossy wood

The same trees that now die for the consumer’s goods

We chop down our forests and leave animals to die

Why is this needed, I ask of you. Why?

Keep the vision of the past in your heart and your mind

For if we unite, we just may someday find

That we have better ways than our current abuse

That we don’t need to lead Mother Nature up to the noose

Perhaps industrialism never shall fade

But surely, there must be a much better way

To find what we need and to get what we want

Than to reduce our poor Earth to being shambles and gaunt

So keep the image in mind, and keep the thought in heart

Let us all rise up, for a brand new fresh start!

Let us regain our world as it was meant to be!

Let us find once again joys of being happy and free!

Unite Shall Death and Beauty

I know a place, far away, past the sea

So different from our world, that’s painful to be

It’s a land to be happy, a great jubilee

At last to be joyous, at last to be free

We all dream of paradise, such beauty galore

But all with their hopes up have thus far been sore

We may push and we plead and we all beg for more

We yearn to be free of the weight we’ve all bore

So come, follow me, to a happier place!

Where there is nothing of shame and disgrace!

Nothing but beauty and love on one’s face

The perfect cure for you and your sad, sorry case

The grass is always green and the sun always bright

The water runs clear amongst beautiful sights
The berries are juicy and sweet to the bite

Come, come with us, simply follow the light

Here there’s no race, none of sex, nor of age

No “weirdos”, no “stuck-ups”, no prejudice page

All folks are equal, all are the same-

in value of course! But unique in their ways!

We laugh and we play and we giggle in sun

No toil, no labor, no work to be done

No kids need be tended, no errands to run

For ‘tis joy and good times the inhabitants won

If you’re tired and weary and feel of despair

Come here with us to breath sweet, fresh, cool air

However you’re happy is your only care

When ends your life, you shall then meet us there

The Art of Writing

A writer’s hand moves ‘cross the page with swish and slither, flick

With words so careful and selected, he maps out his sketch

The nimble pen elgates the words with flourishes, so swift

He draws an outline, thinks it through, and chooses words with care

They tell a structured, upright tale that in bookstores might well fair

But wait! Oh no! That isn’t the truth!

For writing ought not be nearly so dull

The intention of author is not to be perfect

But to express the emotions of soul!

When a writer makes art, she puts passion and thoughts

Not just a stiff, upright, collarbone tale

For when words come from heart and have room in your soul

Only then will the beauty set sail

Words are anything, everything one wants them to be

Elegant, swift, graceful, wise

Or burning with fire and anger and rage

Or perhaps a sweet and delicate guise

A true writer’s mind works with color and spark

And is bursting with flames of emotions

She tosses up words into a big vat

And brews up a strong, magical potion

Her pen is her sword, and mightier so
For when words begin pouring out forth

They can scorch, they can scar, they can wither with might

Words carry a powerful torch

Words may jab through the heart with a double-edged sword

Or they may stroke and caress of the brain
Words make some go mad, and lose all forms of reason

Or words may be all that is keeping one sane

Each writer thinks different, each is brilliant, unique

No two writers exactly the same

When one leaves it is sorrow for one and for all

A copy of one gone never came

Alone in the art world writing is not, for there are surely outlets galore

But it is special and unique in it’s own little way, just as every medium ought to be

Whether painting or drawing or sketching a song

Each deserves to be its own, and unique

Remember, dear writers, oh dear fellow authors

To stay creative and to love all of art

Be swift and spontaneous, wacky and fresh, write well and write lovingly, from heart

The Joy of Christmas

For eleven months throughout the year our lives are dreary, grey

We toil, work, and face such hardships all throughout the day

A song to sing or time to sit is all the joy we get

Meanwhile, there’s no loss of causes make us worry, fear, and fret

But, lo, here comes our savior! It’s the twelfth month of the year!

The time to pack away of our troubles, losses fears

It’s a time of celebration and of love to cherish what we have

Our families and comfort goods are loved throughout the map

The bitter cold of November turns to lovely crispy sweetness

How snow can be so loved by all is anybody’s guess

All that once was loss and sorrow turn to happiness and joy

Who could still be sad amongst the carols, sweets, and toys?

The streets are filled with music, laughter, snow and song and dance

One may hear the sleighbells tinkle or watch young ones sing and prance

Oh, the happiness is everywhere, all spread across the globe

No matter who or where a sad soul lives, with Christmas quits his mope

A smile touches lips of all, even the saddest of the bunch

The spell of Christmas sweeps by all and changes into such

So everybody raise your glass and feast till belly’s full!

Lift your spirits way up high and with them joyful soul!

If Life Gives You Lemons

If life gives you lemons, don’t make lemonade

If life gives you lemons, throw them back in life’s face

Throw them hard, throw them fast, and run before it’s too late

For when life gives you lemons, then you know they’re askew

When life gives you lemons they’re always sour and tart

Or sharp and painful things that will stab through your heart

When life gives you lemons then it’s clearly a trick

Life is waiting for you to accept and feel good

As though life is finally doing to you what it should

But then you realize life only wanted to hurt you as much as it could

Life is pain, life is suffering, life is dark and despair

That’s commonly accepted, that grim is how we shall fare

But then…can’t life be sweet and with happiness and joy?

Sometime, can’t a gift from life not just be a ploy?

When life gives you lemons, why waste them with bitterness?

Why toss them aside as though they’re nothing but rotten?

Perhaps they’ll do good if they’re treated with caution

When life gives you lemons, don’t just make lemonade

Made cookies, make candies, have a lemon parade!

Take the good gifts life gives you, and make something of them

For even a lemon that’s sour may ripen into a gem

If life gives you something that seems useless or sour

Don’t take it at face value and assume that it’s nasty

That there’s nothing you can do that will turn it to classy

Before you toss away the gift, think of what you can do

To make it into something that’s a sweet thing to use

Mirror, Mirror

This is the first poem that I'm posting from 9th grade. I have a few others from 8th grade, but I'm posting more recent ones now. Stay tuned.

Mirror Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”

The queen, you must say, or lest you should fall

And crash and shatter from off of your wall

Mirror mirror on the wall, doust thou hearest my fair call?

For give a day and give a night, thou shalt find thyself quiver in fright

For though thou is fair, and though thou is bright

Thou realizes nothing of beauty of light

For beauty of light doest returneth to us,

The queen shall be smote, turned to nothing but dust

So hear one, hear all, of that the mirror should fall

When beauty returns and we hear Snow White’s fair call

Crying of Crystals

A tear slides gently down my cheek

Tasting salty, bittersweet

One at first, then three, then four

A couple ones turn to downpour

Sadness, horror, terrors, such

All of it is just too much

Building, building, building, then

Tears then flow; I sob ‘amen’

Does it stop? Well sometimes yes,

Sometimes it’s just one huge mess

Life is tangled, knotted, crazed

Sometimes I’m left feeling dazed

Tears are good and tears are bad

They nearly always come with sad

But a good cry is what one needs

To release life, let go their deeds

Crystal clear, like shining glass

The salted water fills my lap

Each drop contains one more sad thought

Lost love, pain, betrayal’s plot

Tears splash down on my keyboard

My soul was slashed with sorrow’s sword

And now it’s bleeding, bleeding fast

And then it slows: tears gone at last

The crying’s over, water dried

But now leaving is my pride

To fix the damage I have done

Would be impossible; amends are none

Love...Why?

I love you

I hate you

I’m in love with you

I despise you

I want to be with you forever

I wish you’d leave my life forever

Why? Why? Why would you do that?

I loved you. I loved you. I love you. I loved you.

My heart is on fire

My heart is like ice

The world spins

Where am I? Who am I?

I feel lost

I feel helpless

I feel like the earth is on fire

I feel like my life is crumbling at my very feet

You were part of my life

You were my life

Where are you now?

I need you here

I need you gone

You started my heart

You made me feel love

You shattered my heart

My heart is broken, shattered, broken beyond repair

Death? Is that you?

Take me now.

Simplicity

A drop of dew on a leaf

Reflecting the sunshine

Glassy, glossy, gorgeous

Tiny, fragile, delicate

A tap of the finger and it shatters

Tiny and weak, yet beautiful

A crisp red apple in fall

Juicy, sweet, crunchy

Hard as a rock, yet soft enough to bite

A deep, vivid, red

Sugary sweet and tasting of autumn

Micro dynamic processor?

No thanks

High definition 16 gigabyte memory storage?

Not needed

Life is complex, with twists and turns

Let’s enjoy the simple things

A hint of vanilla perfume

Sweet and subtle, not too much

Delicious to the nose

Void of complex fragrance names

But what’s simple anymore?

Is a drop of dew simple?

H²O gathered from the process of condensation due to cooler temperatures caused by the subtle tilt of earth?

No

Is an apple simple?

Comprised of hundreds of million of cells composed of microscopic parts and specially generated down to the last detail to create the highest likelihood of seeds being spread?

No

Is vanilla perfume simple?

Fragrance developed in the lab specifically to be pleasing to the human nose and chemically engineered to evaporate at exactly the right rate?

No

Nothing is simple anymore.

What about simplicity itself?

Simplicity is just that…simplicity

Simplicity has yet to be made complicated

Let’s enjoy simplicity

Nothing

Nothing

An empty void

Or peaceful silence

Hatred of nothing

Or nothing of hatred

Sense is gone

It’s only nothing

Up is down and down is up

It’s the nothing

Is it black and white?

Or white and black?

It’s neither, because it’s nothing

Nothing is nothing

Yet nothing is something

What is nothing?

Is it nothing a thought?

No, it’s only nothing

Nothing is an idea

It can’t be, it’s nothing

Can it be comprehended?

A comprehension is something

So nothing is something

But is it a comprehension?

Can anyone comprehend nothing?

So it’s nothing

Nothing is written about

Writing is something

But nothing isn’t writing

Nothing is nothing

But if nothing is nothing…nothing doesn’t exist

Has anyone seen nothing?

No. The eyes only see something

Has anyone thought nothing?

No. The brain only thinks something.

Has anyone touched nothing?

No. The fingers only feel something.

Does nothing exist?

It can’t in thoughts; thoughts are something

It can’t in books; books are something

We’ve never seen it, never thought it

How do we know it exist?

Nothing is nothing

Therefore, there’s no such thing as nothing.

Love of Art

Art is a thing made of beauty and such

Sometimes to look at, but sometimes to touch

Art is a thing that will be here to stay

Art, never leave us, please don’t go away

Art can be sometimes some paint on a paper

Or maybe décor done by a window draper

Art can be acting, way up on the stage

Portraying a person who’s yelling with rage

Art can be makeup, no one can deny it

Art can be writing a story with dry wit

Debate is an art same as painting a wall

Creative ways to bring about opponent’s downfall

Art is subjective; no one can insult

A different opinion is nobody’s fault

If I like green although you prefer blue

Green’s right for me, and then blue is for you

If someone says you made the wrong choice in art

They don’t understand, even if they are smart

Art is only wrong if it isn’t quite you

Don’t be bossed by others; to yourself stay true

A Cell Phone's View of the World

How does a cell phone see the vast world?

Is he happy with the way he’s carried and twirled?

For languages, has he picked up a nice little knack?

I wonder if he knows about grammar and tact

How does a cell phone view his long life?

It he happy and content, or is he filled with strife?

Always pressed up to somebody’s ear

When he’s crowded by people, is it hard to hear?

How does a cell phone look at existence?

Is he up close to action, or is he at a distance?

I wonder if he feels cheerful while he charged

With sad conversations, could he have been scarred?

How does a cell phone see people’s emotions?

Does he beg to differ or second the notion?

While passing on speech, does he ever tire?

Of hearing sad stories of lost love and fire?

A cell phone, I think he’s a quite lucky lad

He’s wanted and loved, he’s the latest fad

He hears everything that people are saying

He hears about all things from teen girls to praying

He’s constantly passing on stories of sadness

But at other times he gets to give messages of gladness

He often must give people news that is bad

Does he resent it? Maybe just a tad

The cell phone has many of hardships and such

But despite all this we all love him so much

So even though he is a quite troubled thing

We love him so much, he should feel like a king!

Laptop

The laptop computer sits on the desk

Quiet, motionless, minding its own business

On the outside is a slab of plastic

On the inside is a complicated jumble of wires and disks and electronics

Working together, they create the laptop

The computer started out big enough to fill a room, so valuable naught but 5 people in the world owned one

The computer shrank, and shrank

It shrank into a PC

It shrank into a laptop

It shrank into a notebook

It shrank into a laptop

Small enough to carry in your bag

Large enough for decent keyboards and screens

Is there any computer better than the laptop?

The laptop is an amazing thing

So simple on the outside

So complicated on the inside

So mind-blowing in use

How does it work?

How did scientists create the laptop?

What makes the light of the screen?

How does the keyboard connect?

How does the laptop connect to the internet?

Few people understand

The laptop is complex

But its simplest feature makes it the best computer

To be able to open and close the lid

The convenience of carrying it around

Is what makes it trump the PC by far

The laptop is an amazing thing

Millions of years ago, a human’s most complex invention was the wheel

Nowadays, we have the laptop

An invention so complex it takes years of training to understand

And even then, no one truly knows how it works

Do even scientists fully understand what makes it work?

Lightening

A charred, blackened tree

Fine sand melted into glass

All once stood in the path of lightening

So fast it’s hardly visible

It strikes in half a second, yet leaves enough ruin to last for months

In the middle of the pounding, icy rain and roaring, whipping winds

When the gray clouds fill the sky and block out the sun

In the middle of the storm that tears trees from their roots and turns on their sides

This is where the lightening strikes

So rare it can hardly be sighted

Yet dangerous enough to kill a man

Lightening is a thing of horror and fascination

One minute, the sky is dark and desolate

Then a fork of blinding white light flashes for a split second

The next, angry thunder shouts, blind and furious

Lightening is oftentimes blamed for destruction

Only because it’s found in the midst of wind and hail

Lightening injures few, and kills yet fewer

Is lightening truly the thing to blame?

Lightening is a thing of wonder

In the sunless and dreary sky

Among dark gray clouds and cold, wet winds

A fork of white plasma lights up the sky

Terrifying, yet strangely beautiful

After the storm, most residue remains

Wisps of charcoal clouds stay in the sky, diamond raindrops still fall from trees, wind continues to blow

But of lightening, nothing remains

All traces of shockingly bright electricity have been wiped from the sky

Light and brightness are often associated with happiness and joy

With lightening, the light has come to mean pain and destruction

The streaks of blinding electricity inspire terror

The white brightness means fear

Fear

So, I just started this blog and I've got a huge document file filled with old poems. Some are good, some are bad. I figure I'll just start from the beginning. This was the first poem that I saved to my current computer (I have tons of poems scattered across my timeline but only started typing and saving them about...halfway through 8th grade or so. So, this is one of the first. It was for a school assignment (as were many of my 8th-grade poems, by the way).

Spiders, black cats, loss of a loved one

All bring fear to some but not others

Fear is to each his own

Sadness, betrayal, hatred

Happiness, love, excitement

Fear overwhelms them all

Is it trauma from long ago?

Or a story of another’s experience?

Is it the expectance of pain or sorrow?

What is it that causes fear?

Long ago, fear was self defense

Meant to help people see their limits

But in a time where limits hardly exist

What place does fear have?

Fear has driven some insane

For others, it is naught but annoyance

For all, it holds great power

The promise of happiness might do

The promise of sadness may work

The threat of anguish can control

But it’s the inflection of fear that gives true power

Fear is a destroyer

It invades a mind, ruins a life

Then moves to its next victim

Fear is just an emotion

Just an image the brain has conjured

Often no more than paranoia

Yet fear can have tremendous affects on the mind

Fear is all around us

Fear is impossible to evade

If one has no fear, they are lying

Fear cannot be escaped

Fear can come from anything

Fear can come from a hospital burning to the ground

Fear can come from the math test next Tuesday

Fear comes from things large

Fear comes from things small

Fear comes from things all

Why does fear remain today?

Today, in a day where fires can be put out

Where the worst diseases can be treated

Where a stopped heart can be started again

Where genuine hope remains until the end of the very last thought one forms

What have we to fear?