A Painted World

A striver, with purpose,

travels the unyielding

Vertical desert,

is unrewarded.

A listless mind

Grows numb,

Complacent to the

Droning fluorescents.

A zombie wasteland

Assigned to be

an eternal prison,

Noise free.

A still placard

Represents worth

A name tag

A right to birth.

An echoed silence

Of the worn path

Sings of determination

And reasons worn scales.

A flicking tongue

Smells the poison

Of false,

Stale, free air.

A room of walls,

The world’s,

Screams down

In endless plight.

A latex glare,

Full of illusions

that say,

Come…come…come away.

Had to write this poem for my poetry class. I observed a live snake in a cage at a museum on the campus where I attend college. ~T

Success is counted sweetest by Emily Dickinson

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,

As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear.



Thought I would post a poem that wasn't mine. The great Emily Dickinson. She has such wonderful rhythm to her poetry. We are studying Emily Dickinson's poetry in my poetry class currently. That's also why I picked another poem of hers to share. =) ~T

Study

The books sing to me in longing.
The games whine, covered in dust.
The music from my lappy distracts.
The invisible web of communication calls.
The movies beg to be rediscovered.
The bed taunts with tempting dreams.
The television invites hours of drone.
The family prods with conversation.
The friends offer nights of fun.
Yet here I sit.
The textbook before me laughs.

My personal temptation to put aside my homework. ~T

The Assigned Poem

The twisted words
upon my page
cringed and cried
as my pen
scribbled them,
forced,
from my mind.


~A poem about how I feel when I have to write a poem for an assignment and not just writing words that naturally come to me and fit themselves willingly upon my page. ~T

Pigeons

He stood; stern,
aloof...gangster.
while the other,
in unfocused content,
paced the light top.
On guard.
Til, as if by magic....
Poof!
They were gone.

I was entertained during lunch yesterday by the sight of 2 pigeons on top of a light pole. ~T

The Melt

Each shattered page of white
yields to the bristle winds
and the searing sun.
Pliant and dying
missiles of ice
and drooping noses
make their departure.
A chorus of drips
the echo of shine
and I sit melting
on a frozen steel log.

A Pleasure Read

Sat, forgotten
you, alone
have become
a book stand.
Soda pop
and plates of green
crush your pages
left unseen.
The busy path
of higher education
has forced
you to the side.
Too busy,
so alone,
too busy
to give
you, Within
my mind,
a home.


Just wrote this tonight after realizing that I've left this one new book of mine just sitting on my side table next to my bed. I haven't had time to read it because I've been so busy with homework. Of course, it sat beneath a bottle of powerade and has sat beneath many other things as well as I've sat in bed working on homework instead of reading. ;p ~T