remember

Thanks, everybody! 

I think I need to go through it again and try breaking the lines up in a different way, because it seems kind of choppy to me. 

Leafpool, that is AMAZING! Also KatetheGreat and AliceoftheElements, yours are great as well! Love the respective brevity and repetition. 

Also, top!  

Poetic-style speech.  I was going to say this in front of my history class but I thought that I had one on gender stereotypes that was better.

I Miss The Stars

I miss the stars.

And I don't want to look up.

And you know why?

I want to look at the stars
When they aren't discolored
By polluted clouds of ash

I want to look at the stars
When they aren't dimmed
By the lights of the buildings
That shine so much brighter than them.

I take the road less traveled
Not just because there are less people,
But because the path
Isn't paved
Or gravel
And it's just dirt
And there are trees
That I can climb
To see the stars.

Unfiltered.

Isn't that what the sky used to be?

When's the next time I can see the stars like that?

The next time I'm in a plane?
When I finally go camping?

When is the next time I'll be in a plane?
I haven't been on one in years.

When will I go camping?
I haven't yet.

I'd rather walk into the woods
At night
Than look out the
Window

Just because
The sky is unfiltered in the woods.
Whereas in the city,
It's dimmed,

Both by lights and smoke.

And who wants that? 

I wrote this last night. I'd love critique! 

{glass palace} 

i live in a glass house, too fragile for my liking

but the delicate walls hold me prisoner.

one tap too man and it'll all come crashing down

around me.

i, too, am made of glass. little bits and

pieces of myself are always chipping off into

my hands--soon i'll be left clutching nothing 

and i'll collapse because i need something to

hold onto; gravity's pull on my is

too strong. too strong, do you

hear me?

bloodstained ballgowns, i believe,

they coat the floor like indicators of my

insanity. dark red seeping through the pale lace and

sating, please help me i'm trapped in my own terror.

the walls and floors of my glass house are

see-through,

tormenting me because though i can longingly view the

outside world, i can't go out. i hate this

brittle, elegant glass palace, i long to

strike out at it, but then it'll

all collapse and shards of glass can pierce skin quite easily.

so please help me, come rescue me and

pull me out of this place because i

want to run,

i want to leave behind the carpets of dust

and glass splinters and blood stains,

let me run free and let me

feel the wind on my face, that's all i

ask so will someone help me? 

~~

My favorite line is "bloodstained ballgowns, i believe," and I feel like it should be made into a rhyming poem but I'm bad at those. But it has a sort of beat--bloodstained ballgowns is 4 syllables and i believe is also 4. I think it's kinda cool. 

Hmmm... this is a poem I wrote a year or two ago, I think, but I rather like it. Thoughts?

Rain

Pit

Dip

Pat

Tip

Trickle

Drizzle

Wind

Blow

Patter

Pitter

Scatter

Skitter

Whoosh, whoosh

Shower

Skies

Darken

Creatures

Hide

Rain

Coming

Pour

Slide

Critters

Running

Puddle

Plop!

Listen

Stop.

Life on earth is busy

Busy busy busy

Too busy to notice

Little things

Rain

Please

Thirsty land

Begging

Feed us

Help us

Save our souls

Wash away

Let us

Feel

Our pain

Then

Wash it away

Forget

Forgive

Love

Pour

Slide

Drip

Trickle

Dribble

Plop!

Stop.

This is also from a really long time ago, but I love it. I'm not sure why.

The Blue House

There is a blue house across from where I sit.

I wonder who lives there.

I wonder why they painted it blue with white trim instead of

White with black trim or brown

Or any other color they could have painted it.

Unless they only had blue paint at the place where they got the paint.

Or perhaps they wanted it to look like a sailor suit.

The stone steps look new and

There is one cut glass window,

Shaped into many little diamonds.

You could stand on the roof;

There is a gate up there just in case.

I wonder if many families live there, or perhaps…

Oh look, a man has walked in.

He brought a package and walked in the door

Leaving it open for a second,

Then closing the frame

It’s made of dark ebony

So neat and pretty

Everything is so

Well

Clean there.

Maybe a retired sailor lives there

And wanted it to remind them of the good old days

So they painted it that way.

It’s almost old-fashioned,

While modern.

The house next door is about the same size,

Brown,

With white trim.

On the other side the house is salmon,

Tall enough to be an apartment.

They don’t tell a story though.

The blue house invokes

The imagination.

--------

Mudge says "ihnk." Ink? Well, technically I didn't use ink for this, since I typed it, but, close enough!