Poetry Thread!

Chatterbox: Inkwell

Poetry Thread!

Poetry Thread!

I haven't seen any of these popping up, so let's make one then!

I wrote these two poems just a few minutes ago, actually. Here they are!

What is
Tomorrow?
Is it just
an illusion-
an idea-
a place to put our dreams?

What is-
Tomorrow?
We turn our faces to the sun and watch.

Tomorrow is
Here.
Bringing now that shadow of
Hope.
and things to
come.

And....

If you were
to search for...
An illusion-
What would you see?

A trailing mist of happiness,
A glooming breath of sorrow?

or something that is-
Nothingness.
A trail that goes to
Nowhere.

Think a while,
no need to rush.
But then come back
and use
The Brush.

 

≈Vi≈

submitted by Violet, age 13, here
(February 16, 2015 - 5:41 pm)

back to the Inkwell

I love the use of the word illusion! You should join my poetry critique group! It kinda died, but I really like it so I wish someone would post.

The Exact Inside of Mom's Homemade Bread

 

 I used to love its spongy texture 

and I would follow its warm smell throughout the kitchen. 

Sometimes for a snack, 

Mom would give us a thick moist slice 

right from the oven.

I would hold it above a napkin, 

not knowing if I should scarf it down 

or take slow, tiny bites.

There was no contest 

between Mom’s bread 

or the thin dry frozen bread; 

glued together by some cold, 

unknown force.

 

 

 

 

 

submitted by Rose bud, age 12, SC
(February 16, 2015 - 6:01 pm)

Top!

submitted by Rose bud, age 12, SC
(February 18, 2015 - 11:19 am)

Battle Hymn of the Chatterbox

We marched forth with a pen in hand

Jo Ho

Jo Ho

We battled the evil til it fell to land

Jo Ho

Jo Ho

We marched forth hand in hand

Jo Ho

Jo Ho

Writing music for the Chatterbox band

Jo Ho

Jo Ho

We had people in different lights  

Jo Ho

Jo Ho

But we startled the foe by laughing all night

Jo Ho

Jo Ho

But in the middle of the strife

We all stood together, mightiest might! 

Jooooo Ho!

AND

Heart 

I pore my sweet dreams

Into a glass of my heart

That came from my thoughts 

submitted by Young Writer
(February 18, 2015 - 4:24 pm)

This is one of my favorite poems that I have ever written. I just let go and had fun! It is about a Dungeon, rats, and a guard. 

 

                                                     DUNGEON

 

The white iron light squeaks

and the mouse squeaks      and then

they a                     at me   because I can’t see them    and when I try to go after them 

          l                g

            l              n        They laugh harder at me because I can’t         

                           i

              s           h              The door opens again with an annoying grating sound

                t          g

                 a       u

                   r     a                    Am I angry?

                    t   l

                                                      Obviously he says kicking something that I don’t 

want.                         

          manifestly      they echo  snickering their little tails off 

 

 

He grunts then leaves and I can hear him go all the way up and I know he locked the door.

 

 

Why am I angry? 

 

   At us... at the world... the gloom... the pickles...

 

 pickles?

 

 

 

 

 

but then I am angry at everything 

 

 

 If I could I would wipe my face before they notice 

 

                               my    

                                        

                                                                                  tears 

 

 

                                                                of 

 

                                                                                                                          frustration 

but since I can’t they will laugh and look for food and wriggle their slimy worms at me.  

submitted by Rose bud, age 12, SC
(February 22, 2015 - 2:41 pm)