Jul 31
poem 1 comment challenge: Cafeteria

Remembering The Years

Kindergarten smelled like plastic and looked like chaos. I remember playing with lots of toys.
First grade smelled like chalk and looked like confusion. I remember the chalkboards filled with small words.
Second grade smelled like nature and looked like recess. I remember running around the playground no matter the sun, rain, or snow. 
Third grade smelled like something new and looked like exhaustion. I remember climbing the extra steps to get to my new classroom.
Forth grade smelled like scented pencils and looked like books. I remember everyone had one of those pencils while I had books.
Fifth grade smelled like paper and looked like Pokemon cards. I remember having lots of homework and even more cards to trade.
Sixth grade smelled like rubber and looked like a long hallway. Middle school was terrifying with high schoolers a few feet away. 
Jul 11
Monster_T_02's picture

My Soul Is Returning

I know I may not be the best,
Nor is my mind the greatest,
But I do know my heart still beats,
With the  purest of intent.

My mind may still weep,
My soul may still cry,
But I will not allow myself,
To lay down,
And die.

My hope is slowly returning,
My garden I will replant,
Self love I am still learning,
And strengthening like an ant.

My path is very shaky,
And monsters still jump out,
But seven years is all I need,
to clean my skeltons out.

Seven year in cells,
I will be a new being,
And my body will be cleansed,
From all their wrongdoings.

Your body is renewed,
After seven years,
Every cell is replaced;
The thought brings me to tears.

One day they will not touch me,
My body will not be their's,
I will be a new person,
Without all these trivial fears.

My mind my still be shifts,
Jun 12
Kittykatruff's picture

Yellow Butterflies

Pretty yellow butterflies
Flit over the grass,
Wingtips barely missing
Flowers, twigs, amber tree sap.

I gaze into the darkened sky
And feel a certain blue;
the kind that weighs your shoulders down
and reveals brutal truths;

A little yellow butterfly
lands on my fingertip,
the sun shines through the clouds
and then I'm flying up to it—

My laughs rings out a thousand bells
and floats silvery-like through the air;
a million yellow butterflies
Dancing everywhere—

Pretty yellow butterflies
float into the field,
I can't help smiling, though they don't know
the joy they make me feel.


 
May 19
Kittykatruff's picture

Lonely

One of my greatest fears
is being lonely.
To have no one 
who understands me,
or to listen as I 
ponder my deepest thoughts.
I am lucky. 
My friends know me.
even if they do not understand
my words, they're always there
to listen.
Yet
the dark has always
made me feel alone.
It's so isolating,
s e p a r a t i n g  people,
leaving them wondering blindly
where the world went.
One of my worst nightmares 
is being trapped in a dark room,
with no sound but the deafening silence
surrounding me.
The walls close in.
I struggle to breath,
drowning in the darkness—
my fingertips grab desperately
in open air,
and I yearn to make a sound,
any sound, 
to bring sweet relief to my ears,
yet the darkness is too overpowering
and whisks my words away
as soon as they form.
Please don't misunderstand me
and conclude that I'm afraid
May 12

Why I Write

I’ve always had trouble with words.

My whole life, they have gotten stuck in my throat,
my mind whispering to shove them back down,
where they get locked in my heart,
never to be heard.

I don’t know why my mind does it,
why it has trained me to think that
no one wants to hear my words,
my thoughts and opinions.

The only time that the lock is opened
is when I write. For whatever reason,
once I have a pencil and a piece of paper,
all those words are set free.

From there, they spill out, dance along the page,
poured from my inner self until they are their
own being. They roam where they wish,
and my heart is finally light once more.

This is my reason for writing.
I cannot speak and be who I am
without my ability to write.
What is your reason?
May 03
Nora.F's picture

Bahamas

A vacation away from all of this sounds like a great idea. My sister and I just get up and leave. Noone talking to me for days. Just my sister and I traveling to the Bahamas. The smell of the salty ocean waters blowing in our faces. The sway of the palm trees blowing in the winds. The warm sand beneath our feet. The sunny blue skies and the blue ocean waters offering a new scene.

No more muddy rides home. No more squishy lawns. No more surprise snow. Just us and the coconuts. The sunblock and the sunglasses. A vacation in the Bahamas with my sister and relaxation is my dream vacation.

 
May 03
poem 2 comments challenge: Senses

Ode to The Rain

My footsteps gently patter on the sidewalk
But I do not hear them because I have my headphones on.
I pause for a moment, taking off my headphones and they rest around my neck.
I adjust my glasses and look around.
The sky is a solid, pale grey color
Matching the gloominess of the day.
There is not much to look at
Besides the damp trees and the dew-covered grass
And the occasional car going by.
Raindrops softly land on my hoodie.
It is not raining much, but it is still cold and wet.
I pull my hood up and study my surroundings.
Still not much to see.
Not many people are around.
The gloominess has kept them inside.
It truly seems like a sad day.
Everyone is plagued with that little nag in their chest
The feeling of gloominess even if they’re happy.
It’s one of those days that make you feel like you’ve lost your best friend.
For some, that truly is the case.
I see a few cars drive by.
Apr 30
poem 0 comments challenge: General
joseph.deffner's picture

The Beach-A Tanka


Flip-flops in the sand.

Simple shells in cool water.

Big waves crashing down.

Seagulls swooping down, catching fish.

Swaying palm trees, good times.
 
Apr 29
poem 1 comment challenge: General
joseph.deffner's picture

Loss


Loss is a hard emotion to process

Doesn't matter what you’re losing

Be it a phone, a loved one, or in my case, a dog

You might feel guilty about your decisions that led to loss

Or want to give up on everything




My dog was an important part of my life

And she always will be- even if she's not here

Most people believe that when you die, your gone,

I believe that even if I can’t  see her, though, Kelly is there

She’d follow my mom about, keeping her company



And lick my face, telling me about her day

And in the real world, I would strain

Strain against the divide,  trying to see my dear friend

And even if I won't ever see you again

You'll stay with me and I will stay with you,



Until the end.
 
Apr 29
joseph.deffner's picture

Awakening: Hibernation turns to spring

The snow is reluctant to leave
Trying to cling to each blade of grass
Every limb of the tree
But the grass wants to grow
And the buds want to bloom

The animals feel the daylight change
Their ears, eyes, and nose, are eager to explore the wood
The bear cub spots the first light of day
The newly hatched owl chicks watch from above
Minnows will soon swim in the streams

Spring is here, spring is coming
Spring is finally upon us.

 
Apr 29

Bora Bora


    “A vacation? To anywhere? With anyone?” I side eyed the man standing at my doorstep. I lifted my hand to cover my eyes from the blistering sun. “Yeah right, do I get a million dollars too?” I studied the man's face as he sighed in disappointment. I could see that he had a pamphlet in hand and I tried to look closely at the title. I was quick to grab my glasses out of my pocket, watching the man as I did so. He saw I was trying to read the pamphlet and handed it to me. I read the title and nodded slowly. “A clothing brand?”

    Yes it's dedicated towards trendy vacation clothing. We want to raise popularity with the more fortunate kids. We saw you went to Mexico and thought it would be a great way to spread the word since you have already proven to be a traveler.”

    “Umm you realize I am fifteen right?” I looked at he pamphlet and knew it was a scam, even though I really wanted it not to be.
Apr 28
poem 1 comment challenge: Senses
Dan's picture

Hot summer day


Standing on an empty dirt road on a hill

The hot summer sun beats down on me

I can feel my skin burning

A gentle breeze kisses my skin

The vivid blue of the sky and the strong white clouds are like a painting

Another breeze moves loose dirt on the road

The green grass sways back and forth in the wind

Crickets chirp all around me, sounding like an orchestra

The sound of leaves turning in the wind

Standing on an empty dirt road

On a hill

On a summer day
 
Apr 28
poem 1 comment challenge: Senses
Gretta K's picture

Too Much to Sense


One step,

The creak of the door as I step outside.

Another step,

The crunch of the gravel under my sole,

The whistle of a bird talking to his friend.

Another step,

The pattern of a duck’s tracks,

The sting of the light from the sun in my eye,

The smell of the fresh cut grass.

Another step,

The ringing sound of church bells as they take a while to fade out,

The salty taste of my sweat as it drips down my face,

The soft feeling of a dog’s fur as I reach down to pet it,

The sound of a zipper as I take off my sweater.

-Senses are so beautiful.

Step back,

Sound of a zipper,

Feeling of a dog’s fur,

Taste of sweat,

Sound of church bells.

Another step back,

Smell of grass,

Feeling of light,

Sight of tracks.
Apr 22
Kittykatruff's picture

Can't find the words-time-emotion

I'm sorry I've been gone so long—
I've been so busy, you know time flies.
With work and outside interests
I haven't had any time to rest.
But today as my fingers mechanically typed
I noticed the reflection of the pink, yellow,
orange-streaked sky
in the corner of the computer screen
And saw my forlorn, furrowed brow
And deep-in-thinking, creasing frown
And suddenly remembered how
we used to talk
on the phone,
at night,
a seemingly old form of communication (nowadays),
yet the chatter of two close friends
seemed to light up the room
and warm my heart
every time without fail.
Now, we seldom call except 
to ask a question about homework.

I see you at school every day,
bursting with everything I want to say—
how was your weekend,
here's the story of mine,
did I tell you yet about that time...?
But class starts
and ends
Apr 21
poem 2 comments challenge: Senses
Emilia Perry's picture

A Walk in a Wooded World


In Vermont,
the middle of spring means everything is brown.

The mud that churns and splashes under tires on the dirt roads.
The bark of the newly-budding trees,
Wet with the rain of promised flowers to come.
The grass that remains pale and scratchy,
Newly free of its heavy winter coating.

A walk in the woods brings new life
To this time so devoid of color.
Though, it does not come in the form of visible hues.

It comes from the chirps and songs of birds,
Who have returned and brought with them such pleasant noise,
Breaking the silence of the winter months,
As barren as the cold landscape itself.

It comes from the sticky sweet sap
Oozing from the maple trees,
Collected in metal buckets,
To later coat your tongue and breakfast,
Thick and rich like honey.

It comes from the smell,
That is so strongly the smell of spring,
Apr 16

A Tree's Memories

I.
The darkness is warm and heavy, comforting almost.
I can feel the sunlight upon my tough shell, so unlike how it felt to drift down, spinning and absolutely uncaring for the world, before settling here at my mothers feet, upon the hearty, green moss.
The tough but gentle hands that intricately selected me off the ground carefully peel back my outer coat, leaving me bare against the open air. Then the hands gingerly close around me, again encasing me in blackness.
When the fingers unfurl once again, I am only free for a second before they dump me into a tiny hole in the soil, and cover me with it.
It was there that I took root, there that I was watered and nurtured.
And it was there that I grew.
Apr 14

Winged Creature

As I walked the abandoned streets alone,
And into the dark, eerie dead of night,
I saw a bird flying up and away,
A black silhouette against the moonlight.

It called out to me—a desperate cry—
Of suffering, of sorrow, and despair.
I saw it had a broken, feathered wing;
It could fly and soar no more through the air.

I understood the poor bird’s anguished call,
For we all are wounded and broken, too.
But once we are healed, we can fly once more—
It is from up high that we see the view. 


We are all fragile and delicate things—
But from our downfalls, we emerge with wings.

 
Apr 12

It's Springtime Once Again

Snow-white blossoms give way to growing apples,
Which, in turn, will grow into healthy, red ones.
Robins dance and sing happily 
As they tediously search for underground worms.
Red squirrels giggle with excitement 
As they play and chase each other.
Lilies pop up from the ground,
Ready to grow into lovely flowers once more.
Trees begin to bud,
The sun shines a little brighter each day,
And the snow that has blanketed the ground all winter long
Begins to melt and seep into the softened earth.
Altogether,
Spring reminds the earth and its' inhabitants
Of a renewal;
Of rebirth.
 
 
Apr 11
poem 1 comment challenge: Awakening
laurenwwright's picture

Cherry Blossom

The melting snow seeps into the 
ground and turns the grass it's 
earthy green. 
I begin to stretch and extend my arms,
each day, I feel a little less stiff.
I notice my friends deep green bushy
hair has grown since I last saw it, and 
another has sprouted more freckles. 
The veins in my hands have become 
stronger. Hopefully this year i'll set the 
record of who can stand against the 
wind the longest.

The sun starts to feel warmer, and my
skin turns a lighter pink. It's harvesting 
season for the bees, and this year 
they have more than usual in training. 
Mom tells me it's going to be a 
long season so watch out for the slimy 
hands, they like to put everything in their
mouth. 

I can now feel warmth even in the shade,
and the children's smiles look brighter 
each day, summer will be here soon. 
 
Apr 11
poem 1 comment challenge: Awakening
jessie.p's picture

Rose

As winter ends, and the snow begins to melt, 
I prepare to show myself. 

I start as a seed, the size of a freckle. 
With the perfect amount of water, 
and a little sunlight, I begin to sprout.
Small leaves show as my stem grows.
I am surrounded by bleeding hearts,
And forget-me-nots that are barely identifiable.

And then I truly begin to blossom.
My stem grows past the forget-me-nots,
Past the bleeding hearts,
Past every other flower in the garden.
Until I'm 100 feet above the ground. 

I am a giant rose, surrounded by infinite colors. 
I stand taller than the man that planted me, 
Taller than the house he built with his wife,
Taller than the hill that sits in the background.
I sway with the wind, afraid to fall all the way down.

Still, I am stable. 
Still, I am powerful. 
And through it all, I remain a seed.
The size of a freckle.