Poetry of the Tomboy page 2

Originally posted by POPPY1061:

Most of the time, posting in Art forums is a waste of time. Kids and teens don’t usually go willingly to these types of forums. Which is one of the many things that makes me and unusual teen.

Art is never a waste of time. I think that most of the people here are teens lol.

Jedi: i think theres a few of us in the 20’s, and Johanna has a kid O_O

Originally posted by ozzy123:

Jedi: i think theres a few of us in the 20’s, and Johanna has a kid O_O

Thats why I said most.

Just makin it clear =P

I never said Art was a waste of time, or that you were wasting your time here. I’m just saying that very few kids and teens enjoy Language Arts like I do. I love the lit circles we do and especially the poetry unit. I’d say poetry is my life, but I don’t want to sound cliche. Yes, some kids like art. Yes, most people here are teens. But in case you hadn’t noticed, there are, like, 9 people posting on this forum. Including me.

Well, I think the glimpse u get of “kids and teens” are the ones reading what teachers give them… which is sleeping medicine in written form… Alot of people i know in real life actually like poems(were doing a unit on them in my english class), but they’re only enthusiastic about the ones there peers have written.

The people in my school hate going to the library and they made fun of my poems. Last year when we did our unit on poetry, I had writer’s block. I’m much better at poetry now. They hated having to listen to everyone’s poems. They hate literature.

Most of my poems are on my deviantArt, but here is 2:

Melody of Life

Those piano notes quiver by in the air,
drifting along in a symphony of song;
The delicate slurs of rhythm ever fair
Reverberate in the wind where I belong.

Quick as the wind picks up dust,
In dotted staccato steps it starts,
The notes jump and wildly thrust,
Light and fast and soar like darts.

As I listen to the fading notes lengthen
And closing my eyes as they begin to slow;
As my will and might fail to strengthen,
And resting as the soft final notes finally flow.

But even if the melodies of life stop and die,
The echoes of these notes will not just lie.

Upon this path, this road, I take,
Thread through their fog, leaving a wake,
A shattered nightmare, abandoned, forsaken;
Forsaken with passion, not man-made fate.

The journey’s rough with fright’s true might,
Condemned wind and hallowed cries fly.
A vessel shivers, frozen with frantic hell,
Across the Styx and towards despair.

Tendrils of Hades that gnaw and numb,
Imprison the mind and saturate with fear.
Thought naught but devoted to the passage beyond
I forge on alone, leaving a wake, a shadow,

A horror of reality and epiphany,
To wreak havoc on the next to come.
Empathy denied, sympathy undeserved,
The fated nightmare that I have become.

Originally posted by POPPY1061:

The people in my school hate going to the library and they made fun of my poems. Last year when we did our unit on poetry, I had writer’s block. I’m much better at poetry now. They hated having to listen to everyone’s poems. They hate literature.

That sucks =/

Lax: Nice… Your poetry is alot more complex then most of the writing i’ve been exposed to… Though, i get it now =P

I’m starting to like poems alot lately =D

Thanks Ozzy. :)

Edit: Stories

Originally posted by ozzy123:

Originally posted by POPPY1061:

The people in my school hate going to the library and they made fun of my poems. Last year when we did our unit on poetry, I had writer’s block. I’m much better at poetry now. They hated having to listen to everyone’s poems. They hate literature.

That sucks =/

Lax: Nice… Your poetry is alot more complex then most of the writing i’ve been exposed to… Though, i get it now =P

I’m starting to like poems alot lately =D

That’s great, ozzy! I started writing poems last year and I totally sucked. Now I think I’m pretty good. What I would like is for my school to have Open Mike Fridays, where we can go up and share our poems. I might suggest that to my English teacher.

Got some inspiration while I was reading a book. The book was Bronx Masquerade, if you’re interested. This book squeezed 4 poems out of me in under 30 minutes. A record for me.

Two Eternal Friends

Cut my heart out
And take it away.
Go if you wish,
It’s got no need to stay.

I’ve been thinking and thinking,
Again and again,
That I’m so much better
With only a pen.

Give me and apple,
I’ll eat for a day.
But give me a pen,
And I’ll say what I’ll say.

So do what you want.
Take my water and food.
With a pen and some paper,
There’s no need to brood.

I’ll be fine on my own
With just these two friends.
We’ll be writing this stuff
Until we meet our ends.

Yah, we just had a poetry unit in our English class, we had to write 10 poems in a month, I loved it =D Today was the end of the unit, we got hot cocoa, and read the poems in class =D

Nice poem btw. though “give me and apple” should be “give me an apple” right?

Another poem inspired by Bronx Masquerade

The Road to My Mind

A heart is an onion,
Layered aplenty.
Often I think about
Where it has sent me.

Where will I go?
Will I follow my heart?
Trust it completely,
Or only in part?

So may questions
Bashing my head.
An asprin, I think,
Then right off to bed.

But that will not fix me,
I know this is true.
Someday I’ll find answers,
But how about you?

I’m finding myself,
Slowly, but surely.
The road to my mind
Is convolutedly curvy.

Originally posted by ozzy123:

Yah, we just had a poetry unit in our English class, we had to write 10 poems in a month, I loved it =D Today was the end of the unit, we got hot cocoa, and read the poems in class =D

Dude, no fair. We had to write a freakin bio of our poet, then read out loud one of our poems that was freakin based off of one of our freakin poet’s poems. I had Robert Frost. My poems sucked. I was stuttering and shaking and people were laughing and it was horrible. I’m a terrible public speaker, you understand. I’m hyper, but shy. I couldn’t make a speech to a fly if he was the only thing on earth, besides me.

Again, good poem. “slowly, but surely” sounds a bit choppy to me tho =/

And hahah =P Yah, my english teachers are pretty cool, and i can understand being shy =/

My poems seem to be getting shorter, but don’t get used to it. There’s a longer one coming up soon here. Not this one, but the next one. This is the third poem from Bronx Masquerade.

Eight Bells

Will you find yourself
In the time of your life?
Will you at least try
To end your strife?

Will we all end up
In the very same place?
How should I live,
And at what pace?

Should I move fast,
And pass all this by?
Or should I slow down
And give flight a try?

Love and loss,
And lack and light.
Talk and whisper,
And yell and fight.

It seems to me,
That’s all we do.
Eight bells ring,
And they all ring true.

When I finish these poems, I think about how one day, maybe, a teacher will ask their class what the author of this poem means when she talks about eight bells.

Originally posted by ozzy123:

Again, good poem. “slowly, but surely” sounds a bit choppy to me tho =/

I’m only thirteen, don’t be so harsh.

Alright, now I’m gonna hit you with the long, meaningful poem that talks about the crap people always get themselves into. There’s no humor in it, like in my I Wonder When poem. It’s completely and deathly serious.

A World-Wide Convention

Inspiration hit
Like lightning today.
Then it was gone,
Just up and flew away.

Now it is back
And I’m writing like mad
To get it all down
Before it’s been had.

Start one thing,
Finish another.
But will we have time
To care for each other?

To address all the issues
Existing today?
Well listen to me,
I’ve got something to say.

We’er an uncaring kind,
All humans alike.
We think about peace,
When we’d just as soon fight.

Poetry bonds us,
Each stanza connects.
Each line makes us think,
Each sentence reflects.

How long will it last,
This poetry thing?
What will we write,
How true will it ring?

Poetry’s ours,
Human’s alone.
We keep it alive,
We keep it our own.

Deer do not write,
Neither do squirrels.
Nor does a flower,
When it unfurls.

This is unique,
Our own invention.
It’s spreading anew,
A world-wide convention.

You’ve probably noticed that I’ve been mentioning truth a lot lately, and it’s because there’s not enough in the world. A billion lies are told every day, and only about a hundred truths. Through poetry, we are honest. We say things that are true. We speak of honesty highly, we talk about there not being enought truth. Then we go and tell lies to people we know and love, and we go against what our poetry says. I’m not saying we don’t mean it when we write these things, I’m saying people need to listen to the poets and hear what they say, then take the advice. People always tell us how valuable literature is, and how true it is. How we should stick to the morals of the fables, even when they don’t. They’re hipocrites. If they want to tell us to do something, they should learn to do that thing first, starting with telling the truth.

Originally posted by POPPY1061:

Originally posted by ozzy123:

Again, good poem. “slowly, but surely” sounds a bit choppy to me tho =/

I’m only thirteen, don’t be so harsh.

I said good poem!!! and that was only one line =P

8 bells:
Good poem as well, reading the other now.

The other poems long, so i got a little lost =P Good poem tho =P

If you guys think you have a better title for one of my poems than the one I used, post it. If I like it, then I might use it.
I don’t have a title for this poem yet, so leave suggestions.

The people we are,
If we’re people at all,
Is what makes us proud;
Makes us stand tall.

If you’ve something to brag,
Poetry or art,
Show it all off,
Do your cultural part.

That’s what I’m doing,
In this poem right here.
On the internet,
I’ve nothing to fear.

There’s no prejudice,
No judgement on Kong.
My poems are safe,
But for how long?

These poems will last,
I might get discovered.
A long time from now,
They might be recovered.

Recovered from books,
From videos and tapes.
I’ll write up some heros,
With masks and capes.

I might be famous
A long time from now.
I’ll write my best poems
And I’ll try to learn how.

How to write all I can,
To see all there is.
To hear all, to taste all,
To feel the ocean’s fizz.

This poem is not finished, but I will finish it later.

Alright, it’s getting late. I might stay up another half hour, but probably not. It’s 11pm and I need sleep. Remember, I suck at naming poems.

Originally posted by ozzy123:

Originally posted by POPPY1061:

Originally posted by ozzy123:

Again, good poem. “slowly, but surely” sounds a bit choppy to me tho =/

I’m only thirteen, don’t be so harsh.

I said good poem!!! and that was only one line =P

8 bells:

Good poem as well, reading the other now.

The other poems long, so i got a little lost =P Good poem tho =P

Like, I’ll be reading a book, and I’ll see a good topic in there, then it starts with a short rhyme. The rhythm usually comes later. I find it interesting to see that little piece of a rhyme, usually only one four-lined stanza, turn into one of my long poems. And my mind works so I have to stop reading and immediately take out my notebook and jot down the poem. Then after that I have to work on the poem because I won’t be able to read until it’s finished.

I really appreciate your comments, Ozzy. You should check out Writer’s Block. I’m on pages 14 and 15 so far. I might be on 13 as well, but I’m not sure. I think a short attention span is great for writing poetry. Especially long poems, because they turn out so different from what you planned. Off-topic, in a good way.

Yah, I’ve seen writers block. And np, thanks for sharing the poems =D (this is Ozzy, I got silenced for posting a rick roll >< did u know u couldn’t do that???)