Some of my poetry

[SnoringFrog]

All right, here's some of the poems I've written. I'll post a few more every once in a while. I'll start off with my favorite, and then go through them alphabetically.

Starfall

This poem came from something that suddenly struck me while I was camping a while ago. The first paragraph just hit me while I was sitting there, and after muttering it to myself a few times, I decided to write it down befoer I forgot it. Later, when I was typing it, I worked on it and came up with this poem. The quote at the beginning is something I came up with specifically for this poem. It's supposed to be a kinda "cross my heart, hope to die" sorta thing when making a promise.

"I promise this, I swear to you, may the stars fall if my word's not true. My life is yours; do as you will. If I betray, may all fall and fail."

Everything falls,
It drops, it plummets
Death rains,
It falls from the sky

Pouring down upon the earth
As a cold bringing flame
As the end draws nigh
The astral bodies fall screeching to earth

This is it, the last assault
An acid test,
To decide the fate of our race
The actualization of our worst fears
Multiplied a hundredfold

As the screaming terrors' onslaught goes on
A bone-chilling aphasia sweeps o'er the world
A death-hush; a final, silent prayer
For this calamity to end

But it continues.

As all falls apart and the stars drop from the sky
Nothing matters, all is lost
Panic and terror rule over earth's last hour

No premonitions conceived by any mind
Could e'er have measured up to this
Beyond all comprehension, time itself fails
And the aeons unite, in a single moment
Of neverending horror that persists for the mere blink of an eye

Earthend--never expected, never forseen
Stiking with unimaginable fury and magnificence
Purifying and corrupting in one fell swoop

Diamonds dissipate
Wills shatter
Souls are torn
Death and life amalgamate into one
Love is razed
Annihiliation is lost
Being is destroyed
Nothing itself cannot be found,
And existence is naught but a faint mem'ry

Why did we wish for starfall?

---
3rd and 1

This is a poem I wrote during study hall one day. It's about the football games we played in gym (two hand tag specifically, but I think to poem fits most any kind). The 'dying squirrel' is a 'technique' I use in which I dive with a odd series of incoherent sounds and hollers in an attempt to tag someone that was to far ahead of me to tag, or to get to a quarterback before he threw the ball faster. I believe my first friend that named it called it the 'Flying Squirrel" but I probably misheard him and the name 'Dying Squirrel' stuck. I tried not to make it obvious that it was about football near the beginning of the poem. Droppin hints in words like 'block' and 'down' before mentioning the sack kinda guarantees that it's football.

Waiting,
Standing anticipantly still,
Muscles tensed, ready
Glance to my friend beside me,
"Slight opening to the right,
Go for it, just give me a sight lead
To draw their attention,"
I quietly tell him
Putting my full attention back to the front
Eyes focused on my target
As I wait for the word,
The word that will set me free
Loose the beast I'm caging
And allow it to bulldoze once more
There it is! I take off
Plowing through those who try to block me
and prevent me from reaching my goal
I take one down, my friend takes another
Then the plan fails as he gets caught up with the last
No time to think
Time to change the plan
I rush onwards,
Body moving as fast as I can make it
Coming closer,
Closer to my target
Suddenly I lunge forward with a thundering cry
The dying squirrel makes its death leap from within me
And I collide
My head and shoulders meet forcefully with my target's body
And we both go down
Slamming into the ground with an audible thud
"Nice sack." my friend says as I make my way back to the line
"Thanks.
Fourth and one,
Hold 'em this down and it's turnover," I reply
Then I crouch,
Ready to begin the process once again
---
Amplify

One of two virus poems I've written, "Amplify" is written from the virus's point of view, and covers any virus that causes its host to ultimately crash and bleed out.

I lie in wait,
Still as stone
As dead as one could ever be
Waiting for my tiem to come
For my host to pass by
THen I'l live once more
I'll ame my strike
Live inside his body
Live, and aplify
Taking over his body
Making it mine
Growing, multiplying,
On and on
Until he can take no more
And he crashes and bleeds out
When that occurs, I'll leave once more
And renew my search for a suitable host
To turn into a squalid pool of blood
To take over, live in, and amplify
---
Bigger

This is a poem based on one of the kids who used to be in my youth group.

Smaller than the rest,
He's mocked, made fun of, mistreated
by all the 'gods' in the class
They think themselves bigger,
and so much better,
Than he,
but they are nothing near what he is.
He's more of a man than they could ever hope to be,
His courage outweighs theirs by tons.
Some of his beliefs may be slightly off,
but at least you can tell what he believes.
Despite the ridicule and persecution he's put through at their hands
He remains ever smiling, ever joyful,
and as eccentric as ever.
Smaller on the outside,
but a much bigger man than any of them on the inside.
He's one worthy of emulation,
No matter what they may say.
A great encouragement, despite size and age
He has more maturity than the lot of them together
If only they would open their eyes and see the truth,
That it's they, not he, who are wrong
That it's he, not they, who is right
But they're blinded by the vanity
And oh so important lives,
Full of emptiness and hypocrisy
To see this boy for what he is,
or perhaps they have seen,
and that's the reason for their ridicule.
Unable to accept the truth of his maturity,
They put him down for their own benefit,
Too pathetic to try to grow to his level,
They portray him as a worthless weakling,
A dumb little child, with nothing good to say.
In attmept to make themselves look good,
To maintain the attention they receive
and keep their folllowers trapped in their façade.
---
Black

These are two separate poems by the same title.

It's saddening,
Watching these people live their lives
Depending on the world for happiness
Relying on themselves to make it through
Rejecting the One who made them, loved them
And sent His Son, Himself, to die for them
They say that ignorance is bliss,
And for them, for now, it is,
But it won't be in the end,
When their season of pleasure is over,
All they know is destroyed
And everyting goes
Black.
As the unrelenting pain of their eternal damnation begins
And they are condemned to the lake of fire
A place of eternal suffering, eternal darkness, eternal
Separation,
From the One who created them.

-

Everyone seems so frightened by the dark,
No one seems to like the shadows or the night,
It makes them uneasy, makes them feel unsafe,
And they long for the security of the light of day.
But not me, I prefer the darkness,
I like to rest in the shadows
Where I am left alone,
Where none bother me,
And I can think,
Think about anything, everything,
Whatever comes to mind
As I sit still in the night.
In the black.
Cloaked with its shadows
And invisible to all the world

[Anna Mae]

Starfall

"I promise this, I swear to you, may the stars fall if my word's not true. My life is yours; do as you will. If I betray, may all fall and fail."

Everything falls,
It drops, it plummets.
Death rains.
It falls from the sky [So you (or someone else) broke a promise?]

Pouring down upon the earth
As a cold [I would remove the 'a' or replace it with an adjective so that is does not sound like you are talking about a case of the sniffles.] bringing flame
As the end draws nigh
The astral bodies fall screeching to Earth [This stanza could be improved with the addition of punctuation.]

This is it, the last assault. [Assult? I am curious.]
An acid test
To decide the fate of our race [Depending on how you mean this, you could add a semicolon after race.]
The actualization of our worst fears
Multiplied a hundredfold

As the screaming terrors' onslaught goes on [The verbage here could be improved.]
A bone-chilling aphasia [Interesting word.] sweeps o'er the world,
A death-hush; a final, silent prayer
For this calamity to end

But it continues.

As all falls apart and the stars drop from the sky,
Nothing matters; all is lost.
Panic and terror rule over Earth's last hour.

No premonitions conceived by any mind
Could e'er have measured up to this. ["Measured up to" is interesting word choice here. Do you mean that this goes beyond anything anyone ever imagined?]
Beyond all comprehension, time itself fails
And the aeons unite in a single moment
Of neverending horror that persists for the mere blink of an eye. [Your presentation of time here is interesting (in a very good way).]

Earthend--never expected, never forseen [By whom? Christians have certainly known about it.]
Striking with unimaginable fury and magnificence
Purifying and corrupting in one fell swoop["Fell swoop" feels out of place.]

Diamonds dissipate
Wills shatter
Souls are torn
Death and life amalgamate [Have you been using the thesaurus?] into one
Love is razed
Annihiliation is lost
Being is destroyed [I would replace 'being' with a different word such as existance, reality, or conciousness. As it is, this line is somewhat awkward.]
Nothing itself cannot be found,[Interesting line.]
And existence is naught but a faint mem'ry

Why did we wish for starfall? [Wish for starfall? This poem still seems to be about a broken promise, but I am not sure why anyone would wish for that.]

[SnoringFrog]

[So you (or someone else) broke a promise?]

Yes, basically.

["Measured up to" is interesting word choice here. Do you mean that this goes beyond anything anyone ever imagined?]

Yes, that's exactly what I was going for.

[By whom? Christians have certainly known about it.]

I was pretty much implying everyone here, this isn't exactly written in a Christian perspective, and is not necessarily the end the Bible describes, at least, it wasn't intended to be.

["Fell swoop" feels out of place.]

I might go back through and replace this stanza with it's original. I was unsure about whether or not I should use what I originaly had, but now I'm thinking it might work better.

[Have you been using the thesaurus?]

Not exactly. A while back I started reading my dictionary and taking notes on interesting words, trying to memorize as many as possible. While I was writing this poem, I was looking through these notes to see if any words I had found would be useful, and since using aphasia and amalgamate in this poem, they've become words that I moer readily recognize and use now.

[I would replace 'being' with a different word such as existance, reality, or conciousness. As it is, this line is somewhat awkward.]

I see where you're coming from, but a replacement would be hard to find. Reality and consciousness both imply things that aren't what I wanted to say (although reality is one I didn't consider that might work very well), and existence is used two lines down.

[Wish for starfall? This poem still seems to be about a broken promise, but I am not sure why anyone would wish for that.]

True. While it wasn't exactly wished for, I was trying to say that by using the "This I promise..." bit, we were, essentially, wishing for this, or moreso, setting ourselves up for this fall. It would kinda fall along the lines of, "be careful what you wish for" in a sense that we should have been more careful with our words, as in this case they brought severe destruction.

[Anna Mae]

I don't know a lot about football, but I found 3rd and 1 rather amusing. Your introductory story made me laugh out loud.

Bigger

Smaller than the rest, [This contrast to the title immediately intrigues me.]
He's mocked, made fun of, mistreated
by all the 'gods' in the class. [Just his grade, or the whole youth group? Wait... do people in youth group mistreat him, or just people at school?]
They think themselves bigger,
and so much better,
Than he,
but they are nothing near what he is.
He's more of a man than they could ever hope to be.
His courage outweighs theirs by tons.
Some of his beliefs may be slightly off, [Interesting. Please elaborate.]
but at least you can tell what he believes.[Good point.]
Despite the ridicule and persecution he's put through at their hands
He remains ever smiling, ever joyful,
and as eccentric as ever.
Smaller on the outside,
but a much bigger man than any of them on the inside.
He's one worthy of emulation, [Despite his beliefs that are a bit off? According to whose standards? Yours or the world's?]
No matter what they may say.
A great encouragement, despite size and age
He has more maturity than the lot of them together. [At this point it feels a little bit like you are trash-talking the other people.]
If only they would open their eyes and see the truth.
That it's they, not he, who are wrong, [Well, according to earlier, he's at least a bit wrong.]
That it's he, not they, who is right.
But they're blinded by vanity
And oh-so-important lives,
Full of emptiness and hypocrisy
To see this boy for what he is.
Or perhaps they have seen,
and that's the reason for their ridicule.
Unable to accept the truth of his maturity,
They put him down for their own benefit.
Too pathetic to try to grow to his level,
They portray him as a worthless weakling,
A dumb little child, with nothing good to say.
In attmept to make themselves look good,
To maintain the attention they receive,
and keep their folllowers trapped in their façade.

[This poem is of interest to me because I have had some personal experience in a situation such as this one.]

[Anna Mae]

["Measured up to" is interesting word choice here. Do you mean that this goes beyond anything anyone ever imagined?]

Yes, that's exactly what I was going for.

In that case I would suggest rephrasing it, because "Measured up to" doesn't quite give the right feel.

[By whom? Christians have certainly known about it.]

I was pretty much implying everyone here, this isn't exactly written in a Christian perspective, and is not necessarily the end the Bible describes, at least, it wasn't intended to be.

Hmm.

[Have you been using the thesaurus?]

Not exactly. A while back I started reading my dictionary and taking notes on interesting words, trying to memorize as many as possible. While I was writing this poem, I was looking through these notes to see if any words I had found would be useful, and since using aphasia and amalgamate in this poem, they've become words that I moer readily recognize and use now.

Sounds like something I would do.

[Wish for starfall? This poem still seems to be about a broken promise, but I am not sure why anyone would wish for that.]

True. While it wasn't exactly wished for, I was trying to say that by using the "This I promise..." bit, we were, essentially, wishing for this, or moreso, setting ourselves up for this fall. It would kinda fall along the lines of, "be careful what you wish for" in a sense that we should have been more careful with our words, as in this case they brought severe destruction.

I see. That is a good message.

[Anna Mae]

Black

These are two separate poems by the same title. [I presume that you want to eventually give one of them a different title?]

It's saddening,
Watching these people live their lives
Depending on the world for happiness
Relying on themselves to make it through
Rejecting the One who made them, loved them
And sent His Son, Himself, to die for them
They say that ignorance is bliss,
And for them, for now, it is,
But it won't be in the end,
When their season of pleasure is over,
All they know is destroyed
And everyting goes
Black.
As the unrelenting pain of their eternal damnation begins
And they are condemned to the lake of fire
A place of eternal suffering, eternal darkness, eternal
Separation, [The two words that stand out most in this poem are 'black' and 'separation' because they each have a whole line to themselves.]
From the One who created them.[Is it particularly intentional that the only period that you have in the entire poem is at the very end?]

[It is indeed saddening. Sometimes we need reminders of this.]

-

Everyone seems so frightened by the dark;
No one seems to like the shadows or the night.
It makes them uneasy, makes them feel unsafe,
And they long for the security of the light of day.
But not me; I prefer the darkness.
I like to rest in the shadows
Where I am left alone,
Where none bother me,
And I can think,
Think about anything, everything,
Whatever comes to mind
As I sit still in the night.
In the blackness.
Cloaked with its shadows
And invisible to all the world

[Good portrayl of the different sides of "blackness." I have written similar poems myself. What if you were to change the title of this poem to "Darkness" or "Night"?]

[SnoringFrog]

[Just his grade, or the whole youth group? Wait... do people in youth group mistreat him, or just people at school?]

Just youth group, I believe he's homeschooled. And, just a note on this 'gods' is also a reference to another poem I've written, which had I been thinking I would have posted beforehand. I might post that one next, seeing as how it begins with a 'w' and that would put it pretty far down the road if I don't.

[Interesting. Please elaborate.]

In youth group some of the guys (primarily the one in this poem) are allowed to give a message one night. In one of his messages, he mentinoed something about being able to 'give back' your salvation, which I believe is impossible.

[Despite his beliefs that are a bit off? According to whose standards? Yours or the world's?]

Yes. Because aside from a few thigns such as what I mentinoed before, his life is probably th emost Christlike I've seen in our youth group.

[At this point it feels a little bit like you are trash-talking the other people.]

I actually sort of am at this point. THe gruop of kids I'm referring to particularly causes trouble. I attend the same Christian school as they do, and they ended up tunring Bible class into the most perverse time of the day, yet they still complain about how 'immature' some of their classmates are, when they can hardly sit through a readign rom the Bible without cracking up because of something it even very vaguely could mean if you took it a certain way (which they always seem to do).

[Well, according to earlier, he's at least a bit wrong.]

Good point, I think I missed that when I wrote this. Although I think the line can still fit since I'm considering more as a whole, and not on just a few issues.

---

[I presume that you want to eventually give one of them a different title?]

I'm not sure. I really enjoy posting them together to show the contrast you can have between two things of the same title.

[Is it particularly intentional that the only period that you have in the entire poem is at the very end?]

There was one after the word 'Black' as well. ANd I don't think the secodn one had much importance that I can recall, I think I just put it there out of habit.

In the blackness.

Thank you for the correctino here; however, I prefer to leave it as black. Mainly because 'blackness' makes it more of an attribute of the surrounding and not the surrounding itself, which is more of what I was aiming for when I wrote this.

[Good portrayl of the different sides of "blackness." I have written similar poems myself. What if you were to change the title of this poem to "Darkness" or "Night"?]

Good suggestions, I'd have to check to see if I hadn't used them already, I've written a few poems on this same subject or ones very similar to it, but as I already said, I enjoy using these two to show how different things of the same title can be.

Thank you very much for the pointers and comments. This is by far the best review I've ever received on my poetry. Also, did you overlook "Ammplify" or just not have anything to say about it?

All right, here's a few more.
---
Again, these are two poems with the same title. They both spawned from the same idea, and both center around a similar pair of lines, so the titles aren't going to change. The "Her blood my rose" and 'My blood her rose" are the parts from which the entire thing "blossomed", so to speak.

Bloodrose

It was perfect,
A beautiful flower,
A rose, wild and pure
Untouched by human influence
Taken by me, as a gift for my beloved
And turned down.
My dreams crushed.
My hand clutched,
Around the beautiful rose it held,
Thorns now piercing my flesh,
As the crimson stream trickles down its stem.
I cast it into the flames, and watch it burn along with my dreams
Her rose.
My blood.
Rejection's flame,
A flame of bondage,
Bound evermore to hopelessly desire what I cannot reach
A flame of freedom,
Freedom from her, my mind now free to think on other things
This feeling, of being alone,
is one so disgustingly sweet,
yet so beautifully bitter
Bliss at its worst,
Despair at its best,
Ambivalence, my curse, my blessing
I could leap with melancholy
I could fall to my knees with mirth
This joy-giving torture,
This pain-bringing pleasure,
Cheerful, dismal, empty, filled...
Nothing.
All at once,
and never at all.
I walk away in a screaming silence,
Crying for my rejection,
And rejoicing for my freedom.

=

My rose,
Her blood,
Our love,
Shattered.
Ripped from my life,
She was taken,
Holding my final gift to her, a rose
Of the purest,
Untouched by human hands,
'Till mine picked it to give to her
But now she's gone,
Fate's taken her to eternity
And I'm left here alone,
Feeling responsible,
Blaming myself for the accident.
"If I'd only been more careful," I tell myself
But I know it was unavoidable
Her last words,
As the crimson river bathed the rose
Resonate throughout my mind.
"It's beautiful..."
"It's beautiful..."
I still hold he rose,
It's dear to me, a reminder of our final moments
It's beautiful, but not on it's own,
The beauty's in the memories.
My memories of her, my one true love
My only love
"It's beautiful." It softly says,
"It's beautiful."
---
This is what I decided to call a 'real-time' poem. As I was writing it, some things that I mentioned in the beginning changed, and I noted those. I wrote about what was happening at the moment it was happening, because I was bored and had nothign else to do.

Bored

I've realized how boring life is
When there's no one around to share it with
I'm sitting here, it's the beginning of a three-day weekend,
Snacking on some chips and watching as my dogs looks on enviously
Her cute little eyes begging for a chip
Praying that I'll let one slip
From my fingers and fall to the ground.
Mom's on the phone, and we've got dial-up,
So that means I'm not online.
Dad's not so good, recovering from his surgery
So he's not himself at all
Mom just got off the phone, I'm back online
My TVdinner's in the microwave.
Can't wait 'till sunday,
I'll get a few minutes to talk to my friends then,
After that I've got to wait 'till Tuesday rolls along.
These are teh times a sibling might be nice
Or perhaps not.
I'm bored.
Life's just not that great without your friends
Movies are more interesting
Food tastes better
Everything's more fun.
Can't wait to get back in school
So I can chat with the guys
See the girls again
And remember how truly blessed I am
To have such great friends
That I can always rely on.

---

Broken Hearted

Broken hearted
I sit alone tonight
I took the step
and plunged into the abyss below
Rejected
my worst fears were realized
this all could have been avoided
but I had to go for it
Lost
amidst my tears and pains
the sorrow's too much to bear
but I have nowhere else to run
Wounded
much too deep to heal
I'll never be the same
my hopes are gone with the wind
Torn
my dreams are shattered
I can't go on any longer
victim to life's deadly games
Broken hearted
I might try it all once more
but my heart can't take another failure
without going to its grave

---
This one was based somewhat off of a quote from Tales of Symphonia. I've included the quote along with the poem. I don't like the title of this poem, but it was all I could think of. The fact that every two lines begin with the same word was not at first intentional, but when I noticed it about halfway through I tried to keep it going until the end.

Can, Will, What

"People fear and hate what is not normal. They are scared of those that are different. The solution is for everyone to become the same." - Yggdrasill, Tales of Symphonia

Can you take the hate?
Can you stand being feared?
Your difference means rejection
Your change will bring persecution
Are you willing to face it?
Are you willing to turn it all over to Him
And give no heed to the opinions of the Hell-bound?
And even more importantly,
Will you go to them?
Will you tell them of His saving love?
He is the one that pulled you from your pit of desperation
He can save them from their troubles as well,
If only you will tell them of Him
If only you will brave the hate and go to them
What choice will you make?
What will you do?
Tell them you put all your faith in the One True King, or
Tell them it's just because your mother makes you?

[SnoringFrog]

And here's the poem I mentioned I referred to in "Bigger" in which I talk about my feeligns about the 'gods' in my class/youth group. A poem on the same group of kids (but from a different perspective) written by my good friend, as well as a quote from Fullmetal Alchemist, inspired me to write it.

We Are Not

"We are not gods, we're humans. Tiny, insignificant humans." -Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist

I've something to say to you
it's been pestering me for a long time,
yet I've let all my chances pass me by
but this time I'm taking my opportunity
to say what I feel I should
so listen to what I have to say.
The way you act,
the way you carry yourself
and the way you, by your account,
never do anything wrong
has grown to more than irking
How you're scarcely the one to talk
when your voice was all that was heard,
and those few times you've admitted to speach,
when all present heard you speak
and knew without doubt the words you spoke
yet you denied them, and they, for your sake
went along.
It's never your fault,
the blame always falls to another
you seek any scapegoat you can find
to maintain your "perfect" image,
and you gather up your followers
those to pathetic to stand for themselves
and make them follow you, join your games
and watch and emulate you.
From your chimerical perfection,
to the claim of modicum corruption,
(contradictory statements, but you've claimed both as true)
everything about you needs amelioration,
but you're much to vain to admit it.
You need to see what you are,
for you try to act like so much more;
you seek and demand worship and praise
although you try to mask it as something else.
Not all of us fall for your façade;
I'm one of the few
who has seen through it,
not hard, it's so thin
and realized what you were doing.
I've something to tell you,
though it may come as shock
I know it for fact:
We are not gods.
We are merely humans
despite what you think of yourself
we are not gods,
and will never be.
Realize this,
consider it carefully,
and try to live accordingly.
You say you believe in the One True God,
that you're a monotheist and follower of Him,
yet the way you act you appear to think you're gods.
Get over yourselves.
You are not gods;
you are tiny, insignificant, worthless humans.
Any significance or worth you have,
is becasue He gave it to you,
on your own, you're naught but dirt,
if even that much.
We are not gods;
we are humans and nothing more.

[Anna Mae]

Amplify Whoops. Missed this one.

I lie in wait,
Still as stone
As dead as one could ever be
Waiting for my time to come
For my host to pass by
Then I'l live once more
I'll aim my strike
Live inside his body
Live, and amplify [Do you mean multiply, instead? 'Amplify' implies making something be bigger than it is.]
Taking over his body
Making it mine
Growing, multiplying,
On and on
Until he can take no more
And he crashes and bleeds out [I am not familiar with this description. What happens to a person in this event?]
When that occurs, I'll leave once more
And renew my search for a suitable host
To turn into a squalid pool of blood [I like this line.]
To take over, live in, and amplify

Good. I always like poems that take on an interesting perspective.

[Anna Mae]

Bloodrose

It was perfect,
A beautiful flower,
A rose, wild and pure
Untouched by human influence
Taken by me, as a gift for my beloved
And turned down.
My dreams crushed.
My hand clutched,
Around the beautiful rose it held,
Thorns now piercing my flesh,
As the crimson stream trickles down its stem.
I cast it into the flames, and watch it burn along with my dreams
Her rose.
My blood.
Rejection's flame,
A flame of bondage,
Bound evermore to hopelessly desire what I cannot reach
A flame of freedom,
Freedom from her, my mind now free to think on other things
This feeling, of being alone,
is one so disgustingly sweet, [Sweet? The poem hasn't mentioned any good part so far.]
yet so beautifully bitter
Bliss at its worst,
Despair at its best, [Good pair of lines.]
Ambivalence, my curse, my blessing
I could leap with melancholy[I like this image.]
I could fall to my knees with mirth[This one doesn't work quite as well because people do sometimes fall down from laughing very heartily.]
This joy-giving torture,
This pain-bringing pleasure,
Cheerful, dismal, empty, filled...
Nothing.
All at once,
and never at all.
I walk away in a screaming silence,
Crying for my rejection,
And rejoicing for my freedom.

[Interesting...

It is quite often that poets compile a list of paradoxes such as you have here. You did not do a bad job.]

=

My rose,
Her blood,
Our love,[This sounds to me like these three are one. Is that correct?]
Shattered.
Ripped from my life,
She was taken,
Holding my final gift to her, a rose
Of the purest,
Untouched by human hands,
'Till mine picked it to give to her
But now she's gone,
Fate's taken her to eternity [This contraction felt out of place.]
And I'm left here alone,
Feeling responsible,
Blaming myself for the accident.
"If I'd only been more careful," I tell myself
But I know it was unavoidable
Her last words,
As the crimson river bathed the rose
Resonate throughout my mind.
"It's beautiful..."
"It's beautiful..."
I still hold he rose,
It's dear to me, a reminder of our final moments
It's beautiful, but not on its own,
The beauty's in the memories.
My memories of her, my one true love
My only love
"It's beautiful." It softly says,
"It's beautiful."
Your ending is... cryptic... but good.

Your poem leaves me wondering how she died (that's what happened, right?).

I don't have time to read the rest of your poems right now, but I will try to get back to them.

[SnoringFrog]

[Do you mean multiply, instead? 'Amplify' implies making something be bigger than it is.]

WHen I virus multiples (at least in the few books I've read) it's referred to as amplification, so I kept that term in the poem.

[I am not familiar with this description. What happens to a person in this event?]

Breifly, blood pours from nearly every (if not every, I can't recall, and it may depend on the virus) opening in the body. There's a bit more to it than that, but I can't remember the specifics at the moment.

[Sweet? The poem hasn't mentioned any good part so far.]

The mention of being alone is what was being referred to. Solitude is something I often enjoy, which is where that came from.

,[This sounds to me like these three are one. Is that correct?]

No, not really.

Your poem leaves me wondering how she died (that's what happened, right?).

As it should. WHen writing it, I pictured a car crash, just to give my mind something to work with, but there isn't really any one way she died, I left it up to the interpretation of the reader.

[creed4]

Very good man, Keep it up

[Anna Mae]

Bored

I've realized how boring life is [An interesting beginning.]
When there's no one around to share it with
I'm sitting here, it's the beginning of a three-day weekend, [Run-on sentence]
Snacking on some chips and watching as my dogs looks on enviously
Her cute little eyes begging for a chip
Praying that I'll let one slip
From my fingers and fall to the ground. [Since you haven't been using periods up to this point I would suggest adding them to the beginning.]
Mom's on the phone, and we've got dial-up,
So that means I'm not online.
Dad's not so good, recovering from his surgery
So he's not himself at all
Mom just got off the phone, I'm back online
My TVdinner's in the microwave.
Can't wait 'till Sunday,
I'll get a few minutes to talk to my friends then, [What about being online?]
After that I've got to wait 'till Tuesday rolls along.[What happened to Monday?]
These are the times a sibling might be nice
Or perhaps not.
I'm bored.
Life's just not that great without your friends
Movies are more interesting
Food tastes better
Everything's more fun.
Can't wait to get back in school
So I can chat with the guys
See the girls again
And remember how truly blessed I am
To have such great friends
That I can always rely on.[Nice message, although the ending is slightly quirked by the preposition (but propably only to grammar nuts like me).]

[Anna Mae]

Broken Hearted

Broken hearted
I sit alone tonight
I took the step [At a time prior to tonight?]
and plunged into the abyss below
Rejected [In a potential relationship by a girl?]
my worst fears were realized
this all could have been avoided
but I had to go for it
Lost
amidst my tears and pains
the sorrow's too much to bear
but I have nowhere else to run [What about to God?]
Wounded
much too deep to heal
I'll never be the same
my hopes are gone with the wind
Torn
my dreams are shattered
I can't go on any longer
victim to life's deadly games
Broken hearted
I might try it all once more
but my heart can't take another failure
without going to its grave

[When did you write this poem?]

[Anna Mae]

Can, Will, What [I kind of like the title, actually.]

"People fear and hate what is not normal. They are scared of those that are different. The solution is for everyone to become the same." - Yggdrasill, Tales of Symphonia [This is an interesting beginning in contrast with the rest of the poem.]

Can you take the hate?
Can you stand being feared?
Your difference means rejection
Your change will bring persecution
Are you willing to face it?
Are you willing to turn it all over to Him
And give no heed to the opinions of the Hell-bound?
And even more importantly,
Will you go to them?
Will you tell them of His saving love?
He is the one that pulled you from your pit of desperation
He can save them from their troubles as well,
If only you will tell them of Him
If only you will brave the hate and go to them
What choice will you make?
What will you do?
Tell them you put all your faith in the One True King, or
Tell them it's just because your mother makes you? [Interesting ending.

Good message.]

[Anna Mae]

We Are Not

"We are not gods, we're humans. Tiny, insignificant humans." -Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist

I've something to say to you
it's been pestering me for a long time,
yet I've let all my chances pass me by
but this time I'm taking my opportunity
to say what I feel I should
so listen to what I have to say. [Your sentences in this poem are very much run-ons. Is this intentional?]
The way you act,
the way you carry yourself
and the way you, by your account,
never do anything wrong
has grown to more than irking
How you're scarcely the one to talk
when your voice was all that was heard,
and those few times you've admitted to speach, [This line does not make sense.]
when all present heard you speak
and knew without doubt the words you spoke
yet you denied them, and they, for your sake, [But didn't the admit them?]
went along.
It's never your fault,
the blame always falls to another
you seek any scapegoat you can find
to maintain your "perfect" image,
and you gather up your followers
those too pathetic to stand for themselves
and make them follow you, join your games
and watch and emulate you.
From your chimerical perfection, [Good word.]
to the claim of modicum corruption,
(contradictory statements, but you've claimed both as true)
everything about you needs amelioration, [Hurrah for big words!]
but you're much to vain to admit it.
You need to see what you are,
for you try to act like so much more;
you seek and demand worship and praise
although you try to mask it as something else.
Not all of us fall for your façade;
I'm one of the few
who has seen through it,
not hard, it's so thin
and realized what you were doing.
I've something to tell you,
though it may come as shock
I know it for fact:
We are not gods.
We are merely humans
despite what you think of yourself
we are not gods,
and will never be.
Realize this,
consider it carefully,
and try to live accordingly.
You say you believe in the One True God,
that you're a monotheist and follower of Him,
yet the way you act you appear to think you're gods.
Get over yourselves.
You are not gods;
you are tiny, insignificant, worthless humans.
Any significance or worth you have,
is becasue He gave it to you,
on your own, you're naught but dirt,
if even that much.
We are not gods;
we are humans and nothing more.

[You have a good message, but it comes across (to me anyway) as trash-talking them with a slightly proud attitude on your part.]

[SnoringFrog]

[What about being online?]

Not many of my good friends were ever online.

.[What happened to Monday?]

Three-day weekend, no school, no friends.

[At a time prior to tonight?]

Yes.

[In a potential relationship by a girl?]

Yeah, I think that was it. I took what little feelign I actually had and greatly exaggerated it so I could write this.

[What about to God?]

Wasn't on my mind at the time, and thus I missed Him both in the poem and in that point in my life. Although, as I said, these emotions are greatly exaggerated from what they actually were, so I wasn't actually feeling that down.

[When did you write this poem?]

I don't reemmber, but it's been a good while. I'd have to dig around a good amount to be able to ball park it. I'd say 6-8 months ago, but that's just a guess.

[Your sentences in this poem are very much run-ons. Is this intentional?]

NOt really, I just tried to seperate the general thoughts with the period. I'm not exactly using them in their conventional way. I only used them to seperate major thoughts.

[This line does not make sense.]

That's probably because it's not explained too well, and this is meant primarily for me and a couple other people I know. Since the majority of this happens at school, it's mentioning the few times they were talking when they weren't suposed to that they would actually say that they were talking instead of denying it.

[But didn't the admit them?]

Again, I failed to make this clear. I was trying to say they admitted to speaking, but not to the words they actually said.

[You have a good message, but it comes across (to me anyway) as trash-talking them with a slightly proud attitude on your part.]

Yeah, it kinda is. At this opint in time, I was very ticked off at these people, and that came out in this poem. I don't think I was trying to sound prideful, but I did. I guess that's because I honestly couldn't believe I was anything like them.