Freshhh

I wanted to have a fresh start to this blog thing. Someday, when I have more readers (or any at all), I suppose I'll fall into a routine. But for now, I'll just write whatever is on my mind. I wrote a mediocre poem the other day. Deal with it. Any feedback on how to make it not so terrible is appreciated. I wonder if my blog ever shows up on the "Next Blog" thing. Hmm.


Help Her


Red eyes, blue blood, icy soul
Stillettos covered in mud
Heart black, made of coal
Only three glowing embers
Never to be remembered


Wander streets at free will
Invent complex dramatics
Find home nowhere,
Pretend, live life without a care
Abuse your youth
Too young to notice
Focused on the last kiss


Years later,
heart broken,
soul taken,
last words unheard,
voice shrill,
Heart still.

Random Poetry Outbreak

Earlier this week, I was greeted to my gmail account with an e-mail from Literary Life Bookstore in Grand Rapids. I had won the Poetry Contest for my age group. Now, my age group only went up to age 12, so I was the oldest aged person competing in the category. But really, I'll be damned if I let that get in the way of my happiness. This poem was really part of my homework for my social studies class. Early American Literature project on Emily Dickinson.


The Whisper of a Child


The whisper of a child
So sweet and innocent
Prevents a mind from recognizing
A child's mischievous intent


The whisper of a child
Could stop the sun from rising
And truly does the earth sob along
When the same child begins crying


(you should know this isn't the poem that won the contest. I'll post that one later. Probably.)