Short Poem Collection 
Written for school. Didn't want to post them all seperatly, so I put them all in here. This was a prompt for school about rainforests and how they're being cut down. I chose to write some poems. :)

Noises of the Forest

Small songs laced

With the gentle breezes

A bird lands softly on a branch

Singing quietly with the rustling leaves

Watching the world below her

A relaxing tune

Accompanied by the soft beating of wings

And the croaking of bright frogs

Peaceful

They are interrupted by an at first gentle hum

Then it erupts into an ear shattering groan

A tree falls

And all is silent

The song has fallen quiet

Except for the loud wails of the human machines

Intruding on the gentle song

Of the rainforest

~~~

The Rain Forest

it's everyones and also mine,
chipping bark and a hanging branch
amber leaves that drift to the weeded ground
a forgotten sweatshirt sits at the trunk

limbs tired from climbs
from gloved hands grabbing at the too-weak twigs
from kicking at the trunk
and leaves pulled off by bored fingertips

it's everyones and also mine
because i am not the only one who sat on the larger branches
who flicked off small, tired ants
and picked off the red berries

i wish i could hear its stories
hear it tell stories from the other kids 
who call it their own
i could listen for hours

it aged with me
from picking up their older sister
to finally sitting at it's base
while waiting for the car to come

it's everyones an also mine
because everyone called it their own
but it's still special.

i like this classroom
i like smelling the hand sanitizer on the way in
and thinking
i won't have to smell that in my seat

i like looking at the penguin figures and stuffed animals
imagining the kids who gifted them
to the teacher

i like reading all the inspirational quotes
(sometimes laughing a little)
and reading the posters that plaster the wall

i like looking at the family photos
watching the clock tik, tik, tik,
and staring at the microwave, jealous that we can't use it

i like sitting in the corner
because when the teacher is talking
i can sneak in a page or two of reading

i like looking out the window
watching the sky
daring it to snow

i like listening to teachers rant
mainly because it's about real things
not things that others might glaze over

i like this classroom.

Coiled on the windowsill
watching as the snow falls down
from a leak in the clouds

a tail like an old grandfather clock
swish, swish, swish
giving the occasional thump on the wall

someone splattered the unwanted colors
and she was caught in the mix –
she is only black, brown and white now

small breaths fog the glass
steam like the hot cocoa being
passed around the table

nose pressed against the cold window
almost as though she can touch the feathery frost
that lines the windowsill

satellites sit atop her fluffy head
twitching at the smallest sound
always listening

collar purple like the old wrapping paper in the basement
or the dried out flowers on the counter
or the little girl's coat, except it is not speckled in snowflakes

still, on the windowsill
stomach rising up and down
gentle, calm.

another limb fell down today
it crashed to the ground
but no one heard it
chips of old, worn bark
drifted sullenly to the grass

a birds nest sat in the crook of the old trees neck
twigs sticking out in odd places
reused a dozen times
but now, to worn to be used again

bright berries are the only color left
other than the tedious, faded bronze wood
like an old, worn, third place medal
bright green leaves left us
a long time ago

it looms over the grass
an air of melancholy surrounding it
stubs of branches reach out
remembering times we long forgot

a robin lands upon the thinner branches
perched precariously over the ground
and bursts into song.
 

Emily Dickenson
born December Tenth
me
born December Tenth

she's a poet
my favorite, actually
writing about the flowers
remembered because of
words

i hope maybe someday
i can be remembered
because of words
like her
 

 

blue is everything
a bright sky
with little puffs of clouds
with a bright, friendly blue as a backdrop
means happiness

blue is everything
the old friendly house
a reminder of home
with an air of broken joy

blue is everything
tears running down her cheeks
she is blue, sad
melancholy

blue is everything
roaring waves crashing on the town
fierce and unforgiving
anger wells inside the white foam
bubbling up

blue is everything
happiness
broken joy
melancholy
anger
 

i feel so broken
sitting shattered at the desk
doodling in a notebook
forgetting the world around me

it's all a blur now
endless sheets of paper to take home
only two days to interact
huddling on the couch, sore and tired

the screen is a second pair of eyes
staring into my own
i lost the staring contest
a long time ago

work is finished quickly
and for the rest of the day
boredom is all that sits
in the aching mind