Post by Lost Digi Girl on May 8, 2006 0:52:58 GMT -5
These poems are still under construction.
Pulled
On the perfectly smooth ground,
the wheels on my backpack
get caught on something,
which I find to be nothing,
but I am forced to drag
the backpack behind me.
And the empty camping
backpack sits on my shoulders,
not my hips since it is so
light, yet gravity makes it
tip backwards, disc entering me
and pulling me back.
Being away so long,
forgetting everything about
normal school life.
I’d forgotten the drag.
I move on to try
to recenter myself, although
I enjoyed the time when
I didn’t remember.
Crepes
Scent keeps the most uncorrupt memories.
So when writing in the early unopen food court,
A happy memory smell hits,
interrupts, breaking chains of thought.
Crepes, like Brie cheese, are solidified happiness of the world,
or at least the western part of the old world.
I scramble to gather change, desiring happiness,
a glimpse to the past of a French class making crepes.
Down to spending pennies, I see one not the same,
a Canadian penny reminds me to ask my friend if he likes crepes too.
Finally sitting with my happy smelly crepe, I bite,
remembering that scent is stronger memories than taste or sight.
Sharpened
There was no practical reason
and always messy and wasteful,
but my favorite school tool was a
pencil sharpener with a dent
in the green plastic, revealing
the corner of the razor corner.
And whenever my pencil dulled,
I gave it a new point.
Even when I couldn’t see the pencil
when I wrap my hand around it.
Or when the metal band holding
the eroded eraser
is longer than the
lead available.
Upon stealing a box
Unknown anger and mistrust
surround a man. I know we’ve never
met, but feel as if I have.
We try to run but find time
and air pull and slow us, as
the other tries to stop us.
We hide in a trench that doesn’t belong in this ground
and open the box he wanted too much.
Twinkling light tries to pull us in
to give a power to stop wrongs like the one my love committed
and defy nature, but can this
fit in with normal reality?
Falling Water
It’s fun to watch the nature
of water, tumbling over rocks
that look like falling water
into a sky blue pond that
pours out over shallow terraces
made of lime coated twigs and leaves.
They make the perfect path for
walking to the other side of the
creek, pond, and waterfall. The
waterfall pushes, yet it pulls me
into the chilled waters,
to see if I can touch it.
Reason returns as I swim up
to the splashing water.
Water falling from so high
is painful on the head, so I return to
the other side, to wonder
why such perfect water
attracts me, yet the others
think I’m crazy, even though
one guy jumps in to swim
to the exit, and he is sane
while we walk across
terraces and watch.
Lost Skiing
Never falling, always gliding
like flying on fluffy snow
unaware of pain or worry,
just the wind whistling by.
Curious to see new grounds,
I begin the track to a higher
lift. Climbing up and up,
fearing the rattling,
the slowing of the chair
on the border of falling.
Easing myself off
the chair to slide onto solid
ground, I pause to see
the pale white mountains
spotted with gray trees
and blurred by snow falling.
I push myself down the hill
but to worse fears. I find
myself flying too fast, feeling
out of control, crashing into the snow.
No longer flat, the snow is up to my
knees, burying skis. I’m unable
to get on top, or fly at any speed.
Tiptoeing, always falling, I try
to return to stable safety.
Frustrations
Never friends but never enemies
until she doesn’t listen to reason
against danger and the experience of others,
but still she pushes them to trouble.
And later forced to pretend and betrays
her friends for another cause. Then, he knew
she’d never come back. Never faint at nothing,
but always yell, take over and use her friends.
He left her and his friends, to find a way
to stop the evil and bring a complete end
to those who hurt his friends, those who
manipulate, and restore their freedom.
He came back and found she’d never change,
and worse, had tricked his friends to hate him instead.
She may as well have
been born a ghost,
for her sister had a magnetic pull
not even her parents could resist.
Only the magnet would say a word,
but never one that she would want.
She could never force herself away,
but never see that her sister made her nothing.
((Incomplete))
Searches
She looks around,
unaware of where
she is or how
she got there.
He came searching for something,
of a different sort, and spotted
the small girl hiding under a stone staircase,
lost and crying, covered in dirt made into mud.
She cried out
to him, scared
of if he’s to help,
or why she’s there.
He approached her cautiously,
aware of her mental turmoil, but sure
she needed help and a friend,
and guidance home.
Pulled
On the perfectly smooth ground,
the wheels on my backpack
get caught on something,
which I find to be nothing,
but I am forced to drag
the backpack behind me.
And the empty camping
backpack sits on my shoulders,
not my hips since it is so
light, yet gravity makes it
tip backwards, disc entering me
and pulling me back.
Being away so long,
forgetting everything about
normal school life.
I’d forgotten the drag.
I move on to try
to recenter myself, although
I enjoyed the time when
I didn’t remember.
Crepes
Scent keeps the most uncorrupt memories.
So when writing in the early unopen food court,
A happy memory smell hits,
interrupts, breaking chains of thought.
Crepes, like Brie cheese, are solidified happiness of the world,
or at least the western part of the old world.
I scramble to gather change, desiring happiness,
a glimpse to the past of a French class making crepes.
Down to spending pennies, I see one not the same,
a Canadian penny reminds me to ask my friend if he likes crepes too.
Finally sitting with my happy smelly crepe, I bite,
remembering that scent is stronger memories than taste or sight.
Sharpened
There was no practical reason
and always messy and wasteful,
but my favorite school tool was a
pencil sharpener with a dent
in the green plastic, revealing
the corner of the razor corner.
And whenever my pencil dulled,
I gave it a new point.
Even when I couldn’t see the pencil
when I wrap my hand around it.
Or when the metal band holding
the eroded eraser
is longer than the
lead available.
Upon stealing a box
Unknown anger and mistrust
surround a man. I know we’ve never
met, but feel as if I have.
We try to run but find time
and air pull and slow us, as
the other tries to stop us.
We hide in a trench that doesn’t belong in this ground
and open the box he wanted too much.
Twinkling light tries to pull us in
to give a power to stop wrongs like the one my love committed
and defy nature, but can this
fit in with normal reality?
Falling Water
It’s fun to watch the nature
of water, tumbling over rocks
that look like falling water
into a sky blue pond that
pours out over shallow terraces
made of lime coated twigs and leaves.
They make the perfect path for
walking to the other side of the
creek, pond, and waterfall. The
waterfall pushes, yet it pulls me
into the chilled waters,
to see if I can touch it.
Reason returns as I swim up
to the splashing water.
Water falling from so high
is painful on the head, so I return to
the other side, to wonder
why such perfect water
attracts me, yet the others
think I’m crazy, even though
one guy jumps in to swim
to the exit, and he is sane
while we walk across
terraces and watch.
Lost Skiing
Never falling, always gliding
like flying on fluffy snow
unaware of pain or worry,
just the wind whistling by.
Curious to see new grounds,
I begin the track to a higher
lift. Climbing up and up,
fearing the rattling,
the slowing of the chair
on the border of falling.
Easing myself off
the chair to slide onto solid
ground, I pause to see
the pale white mountains
spotted with gray trees
and blurred by snow falling.
I push myself down the hill
but to worse fears. I find
myself flying too fast, feeling
out of control, crashing into the snow.
No longer flat, the snow is up to my
knees, burying skis. I’m unable
to get on top, or fly at any speed.
Tiptoeing, always falling, I try
to return to stable safety.
Frustrations
Never friends but never enemies
until she doesn’t listen to reason
against danger and the experience of others,
but still she pushes them to trouble.
And later forced to pretend and betrays
her friends for another cause. Then, he knew
she’d never come back. Never faint at nothing,
but always yell, take over and use her friends.
He left her and his friends, to find a way
to stop the evil and bring a complete end
to those who hurt his friends, those who
manipulate, and restore their freedom.
He came back and found she’d never change,
and worse, had tricked his friends to hate him instead.
She may as well have
been born a ghost,
for her sister had a magnetic pull
not even her parents could resist.
Only the magnet would say a word,
but never one that she would want.
She could never force herself away,
but never see that her sister made her nothing.
((Incomplete))
Searches
She looks around,
unaware of where
she is or how
she got there.
He came searching for something,
of a different sort, and spotted
the small girl hiding under a stone staircase,
lost and crying, covered in dirt made into mud.
She cried out
to him, scared
of if he’s to help,
or why she’s there.
He approached her cautiously,
aware of her mental turmoil, but sure
she needed help and a friend,
and guidance home.
