Emily

Emily knew
what I did not
and as she rose
to the tombstone pedestal
I envied her
I loved her
I buried her
Deep in my heart
in the far regions
so I wouldn't
see her
and wouldn't know
I couldn't be her.

Bleached Words

White noise of chatter
devils and angels
they bask in the warmth
of their caffeine and mint breath.
The bleached shine
illuminates the clean words
that were once shunned.
Vulgar truths
replaced the measured
crispness of language past.
I sat aloof in my corner
and my eyes watched their words
create dark clouds, in which
they kept their heads.
Their clouds reached for me
like claws seeking blood
as I held up my white flag
I still refused.
My stained, acid eroded words
hid in my brown mouth
refusing to taste their
bitter, clean words
that were once as dirty
as the coffee mug by the sink.

Unsolved

I am a piece
from a different puzzle
some how I was lost
here,
surrounded by pieces
I don't fit...with.
Oh! How the heart
of my cardboard soul
cries for my pieces
of the,puzzle
unsolved.

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