Posts Tagged ‘ poem ’

Spire

Here a journey ends;
a search far and wide.
Across countless new lands,
ended with sorrow and sighs.

The illusive icy spires
of frozen winter wonder,
Remain hidden from sights,
held deep in slumber.

Somnolent, but inspired,
we rest in reveries.
Souls warmed bright by fire,
set free of our pleas.

Here a journey ends,
and another will begin.
Silent sorrows mend;
the sun dawns,

Again.

Advertisements

Rooms

Here’s a poem I wrote for school. It’s a narrative poem and obviously not true. It was made based on an image my teacher provided.

Rooms

The dark, run down building,
Deprived of all light,
Stands before me, haunting,
As silence fills the night.

The door comes slightly ajar,
As wind brushes my face,
Taunting me to enter,
This forsaken place.

My feet guide me forward,
Into the awaiting darkness.
Wind rushes inward,
And the door closes.

In the darkness, something stirs,
Something darker than dark.
My fear heightens, my heartbeat races
At what it might be and where it lurks.

My fear keeps me from moving.
In the darkness, another shadows shifts.
I run. I don’t stop running.
Room after room I pass.

Footsteps echo behind me.
They’re close, too close than need be.
Still, they, I cannot see,
But I hear them, clearly.

A light in the next room,
An exit from this horror,
An escape from certain doom.
I run faster.

The floor, covered in sand,
Hides an unseen barrier,
I trip and land,
Upon the sand covered floor.

I struggle to stand,
Feet slipping from beneath me.
A sound from behind,
I turn quickly…

And darkness engulfs me.

Old MacDonald Had A Wadjamacallit?

Old MacDonald liked to play,
A game called basketball.
He tried to shoot it in the hoop,
Didn’t get close at all.
With a bang, “Ow!” here and a “Get out!” there,
Here’s a cop, there’s a cop, oh my gosh, the president!
Old MacDonald couldn’t play,
A simple little sport.

Old MacDonald liked to play,
A game that is called football.
He tried to score a quick touchdown,
But got crushed when a fat guy fell.
With a crunch, snap here and the ambulance there,
Here’s the ER, there’s the ER, trillions of broken bones,
Bang, “Ow!” here and a “Get out!” there,
Here’s a cop, there’s a cop, oh my gosh, the president!
Old MacDonald couldn’t play,
A simple little sport.

Old MacDonald liked to play,
A game where you kick a soccer ball.
He tried to get it in the goal,
But it came right back and whacked his skull.
With a kick, bonk here and a concussion there,
Here’s the brain, there’s the cells, losing all those brain cells,
Crunch, snap here and the ambulance there,
Here’s the ER, there’s the ER, trillions of broken bones,
Bang, “Ow!” here and a “Get out!” there,
Here’s a cop, there’s a cop, oh my gosh, the president!
Old MacDonald couldn’t play,
A simple little sport.

Old MacDonald liked to play,
A game of baseball
The pitcher pitched at lightning speed,
Down, came the wall.
With a falling brick wall and a ball in his head,
Here’s a brick, there’s a brick, everywhere is a ton of bricks,
kick, bonk here and a concussion there,
Here’s the brain, there’s the cells, losing all those brain cells,
Crunch, snap here and the ambulance there,
Here’s the ER, there’s the ER, trillions of broken bones,
Bang, “Ow!” here and a “Get out!” there,
Here’s a cop, there’s a cop, oh my gosh, the president!
Old MacDonald couldn’t play,
A simple little sport.

Old MacDonald was hopeless,
So he kicked a tiny little ball.
He broke his leg bone really bad,
How did that hap-? WARGLE!