Make your own free website on

8th Grade: '00-'01

man i love crayon. 2002

There is something back there,
Something in the shadows, under the trees.
 Lurking outside the pool of yellow light,
 Urging us to run so it can chase.
Sinuses tail, white teeth, flashing eyes.
 Never seen, always felt.
Running, pounding, breathing hard,
The point of light just out of reach,
 Sweet relief, flooding through you,
Waiting, lurking, outside in the dark,
 Patiently waiting...for you.
 Eyes in the Dark
I, I am the silent one,
I am the Eyes in the Dark.
 When you are followed by the invisible one,
It is me.
I crouch and stalk you,
I prepare to spring,
I melt into the shadows when you turn.
Animal Fear, Paranoia,
It... is... me!

Broken Windows
Broken windows, shattered glass.
 Blood stained fragments,
reflected in a cracked mirror.
Blue eyes, vacant, clouds drawing across the sky,
Mouth wordless, mute, body broken, strings cut.
Broken glass, world shattered.
How many more?
 Straight lines
 Crisscrossing my head
Bars holding me in
Words meaningless flow through
Held in, rejected
Back on empty paper
 Words, words, words
Swirling surrounding
Trapped by words
 Never letting up
 Never letting out
 Screaming yelling
Thrashing struggling
 Trapped in a lethargic body,
 Lulled by constant flow of words.

Shocking cold water,
Flowing cool over my feet,
Round rocks underneath.

Tears flowing rivers,
Etching out the old cliff face,
Smoothed by years of time.

Brown framed by green,
Sunlight filtered through shadows,
Onto soft damp grass.

Warbling voices,
Flashing colors swift and bright
Cheerful birds in flight.

Soft green grass lush stems,
Springy carpet fit for kings,
Bright wet spears of green.

Phoenix, colored fire,
Hot tail of flickering flames,
Beak a burning coal.

Flashing silver rain,
Molten metal swiftly falls,
Yet cold on my face.

Like a soft blanket,
Sleep settles down over me,
Nestled in my bed.
 Dew damp on green leaves
 Shining moistly like diamonds
Branches dripping wet
 Sky blanketed with gray cloud
 Sweet songs break through the dim morn
Water, life giver
Earth, foundation of the soul
Fire, burning love
 Air, cool wind under our wings
Water, Earth, Fire, Air, Life
Yellow walls stretch up
Reaching for the sky of blue
Orange streaks of sand
 Darting lizards scale the rocks
 Green plants dotting the sand
The bird falls slowly
Red blossoming from its chest
Bright flower of death
Startled flocks rise from the lake
It lays so still and forlorn
The rough old oaks bark
Pressing a tattoo on skin
Bare feet against branch
Clinging like lichen to trees
Pale tan against green and brown
The mocking bird sings loudly,
straining its voice, to enable all to hear.
Happily, it chirps and warms up its voice,
just a prelude to the joyous music that bursts from its throat.
 Creamy white blossoms accent its coat,
perfuming the air with the heavy sent of flowers.
 Peach Tree
 The frail tree, her thin branches almost bare,
 covers her body with a gauzy robe, studded with emeralds,
 her blossoms the color of her blushes.
Bearing her small body up,
 she proudly holds her head against the tall,
twisted limbs of the oak.
The sent of flowers perfumes the air,
the soft aroma covering her, a invisible veil,
she hints at promises to come.
 Thoughts on Death
Happy memories, playing like old songs through your head. Suffused with a warm golden glow, like a sunny day, but tainted with a dark sadness. The hard spear of longing forces its way into your heart, shattering the dreams of days gone by. The pain of loss numbs the heart, but does not relive the ache. It swells to bursting with tears, then bursts out of its confines, leaving the heart empty. Rising out of the hidden darkness comes anger, to fill the vacant chamber and gnaw at its confines. If not released, it will finish the heart, and move onto the soul, its unceasing appetite devouring everything. Once the wound is punctured, it will be aloud to heal and be filled again with love.
 Winter snaps his whip of ice through the land, the breeze turns cold, and Winters sister, Snow, races in, upon her steed, the North Wind. Eagerly she swirls around, laughing as she coats the world in a blanket of white. Winter stabs his dagger of ice, glinting like a diamond, into the green heart of a tree. Standing back, he watches through frosted eyes, as the tree, groaning and creaking, moans its agony. Snow loads more glittering white powder onto its straining branches, and with a crack like a gunshot, the old tree sighs, and tumbles to the ground, snapping and tinkling like broken glass. Satisfied, Snow and Winter retreat into the angry sky. Frost, as light as a feather, small as a fairy, darts around like a dragon fly. She glides over the frozen lake, leaving a fern like pattern curling and weaving behind her. She flies to a fire lit window, and traces her finger over invisible patterns, leaving ones of ice. Winter has come, bringing with him Snow and Frost. Winter is here.
Sonnet to Chocolate
I love chocolate it is so tasty,
So creamy and delicious, yum oh yum,
Dark and brown and rich, not at all pasty,
 To not like it you would have to be a dum dum.
Many flavors it has, white, dark, and milk,
Chocolate it medicine for the soul,
 Down your throat it slides, feeling just like silk,
So tempting in that big blue bowl.
The only bad thing about chocolate,
 Is there is not enough in the whole world,
So right now grab as much as you can get,
 It is best when two flavors are swirled.
Give into the temptation, before its gone,
So send for chocolate with your trusty pawn.
(Written with the help of Geneva W.)
Purple bubbles, floating peacefully through a green transparent tube.
Reflected in the gleaming surface of a white diamond.
They pop out and burst,
splattering red and yellow splotches of paint all over the floating puppy.
 He barks, then turns back into a diamond.
An anvil falls and shatters it, after which,
it promptly turns to butter and melts under the bright summer sun,
reflected in the green pool, surrounded by lush blue grass.
The bee falls to the ground, puncturing it.
The world deflates, its air leaking out through the hole.
Sonnet to Morning
How sweetly sings the soft low song of morn,
 Voices rise to join the harmonis parts,
Celebrating so many dawns reborn
Intertwining meldies from many hearts.
 The soft glow of daylight touches the sky,
Color seeps across the misty heaven,
Mist turns to rain, the heavens start to cry,
They do not long grieve, soon the warm drops lessn.
The sleeping wor-ld stirs at the light touch,
Of gentle rainfall pattering above,
She stirs again, Sleep is losing his clutch,
The wor-ld wakes to swe-et songs of love.
The enchanting song continues until,
Ceasing, it waits for a new morn to fulfill.
Where have the birds gone?
 Gone is all their song.
No light, all night,
Where have they all gone?
 Long roads winding into the distance,
Twining gray serpents, flecked with white.
 Shimmering air, hanging over the lifeless way,
 Leading ever onwards, to where?
Not fair. Noise. Pollution. Killing the life givers. Who are we do decide who liver or dies, when we kill our own life? Who are we to decide to rule the world? What will we do to our home next? Slowly poisoning our food, water, purpose. In cutting down the old men of the world, we cut down the long living wisdom of the earth. How do you find connection to the life force pulsing through the earth, if the life force is imprisoned beyond all hope of escape behind bars of our own making, bars of oil soaked cement? Empty shells, blowing across the frozen surface of a man made world. All that is left is a mindless mind, soundlessly howling at the forsaken world, that the mind has forsaken. Green, brown, blue, black, there is no difference in an eye that sees no color. Eyes, large with innocence, that no one believes. For who can believe in innocence in a world with no shame? Laughter, empty laughter, hollowly echoing across the limitless void.
The dew, it sparkles on the grass.
Silvery, clear, shiney as glass.
Coating a spider web like like strings of dimonds.
A living artwork that nature has created.
Big ones, small ones,
Normal or tall ones,
Stuck to the faces of you an me.
We got noses to smell with
Just like our eyes to see.
So if you dont like yours or mine
(I like mine just fine)
Remember God gave you it,
You'll learn to like it a bit!

Dont Click! | Home | 3rd Grade: '95-'96 | 5th Grade: '97-'98 | 6th Grade: '98-'99 | 7th Grade: '99-'00 | 8th Grade: '00-'01 | 9th Grade: '01-'02 | 10th Grade: '02-'03 | 11th Grade: '03-'04 | 12th Grade: '04-'05 | About the Poet | Contact Me