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These are my poems, copyright to me, any use of them without my permission will result in me hunting you down and haunting your sleep at night, blah blah blah and all that jazz.
Posted these a while back in my senior year. Some might be kinda lame:
Path of the Jaguar
Sunlight filters
through the trees, a
greenish gold on the
low lying ferns and
fire lilys, their red orange
blooms dotting the ever
green growth with flame.
The swaying ferns, feathery
plumes hanging above
your head, as rubber
plants ooze their milk
white sap. The ancient
huge trunks of trees
spiral into the sky,
their tops obscured
in foliage of green leaves.
Ascend to the branches
now, follow the worn stair
of chipped bark, as you
climb through blooming
curtains of liana, the
rainbow hues rioting
in the dark green landscape.
Follow me, my black-tipped
tail flicking, follow me
and I'll take you on
the path of the jaguar.
Panther Black, Midnight Cat
Panther black, Midnight cat,
Your hide of gleaming ebony,
Your fur thick and glossy,
Your body graceful and clean.
Your paws, strong and deadly in their power,
Your eyes of luminescent green,
Your teeth of awesome magnitude,
Your muscles taut and lean.
You sit, hunkered down like an old man before his fire
On a cold night,
Your mouth curved in a grin of suspense.
You gather yourself beneath you, and you SPRING!
Your prey is helpless in your grasp,
It struggles in vain,
Your eyes are wild with the hunt,
And your teeth flash in the sunlight.
You have finished your meal,
Stashing the left overs in the crotch of a tree
For later
You may be hungry, and hunting is not always successful.
This is my version of the kid story:
There Was An Old Woman...
There was an old woman who swallowed a spider,
Which wriggled and tickled all over inside her.
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly,
Why she swallowed the fly I have no idea why.
SHE SWALLOWED FLY! WHY, OH WHY, WOULD SHE SWALLOW A FLY?!
I don't know, so she'll probably die.
There was an old woman who swallowed a cat,
She swallowed the cat to catch the spider
Which wiggled and tickled all over inside her,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly,
Why she swallowed the fly, I have no idea why,
So she'll probably die.
There was an old woman who swallowed a dog
She swallowed the dog to catch the cat,
She swallowed the cat to catch the spider,
Which wriggled and tickled all over inside her,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly
Why she swallowed the fly, I have no idea why,
So she'll probably die.
There was an old woman who swallowed a goat,
She swallowed the goat to catch the dog,
She swallowed the dog to catch the cat
She swallowed the cat to catch the spider,
Which wriggled and tickled all over inside her
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly,
Why she swallowed the fly, I have no idea why,
So she'll probably die.
There was an old woman who swallowed a horse.....
She's dead, of course.
Just BE
Be inspirational,intelligent, witty, scary, spooky, funny, silly, patronizing, controlling or relaxed.
Be easy, hard, long, short, shaped, blunt, discreet, naive, happy, sad or mad.
Be belligerant, volatile, evil, mean, snotty or scathing.
Be kind, good, gentle, laidback or smooth.
Be rough, bumpy, sandy, fine, coarse or silky.
In other words...
BE WHAT YOU WANT TO BE
BE WHAT YOU'VE DREAMED YOU'D BE
BE WHAT YOU DON'T WANT TO BE,
JUST TO SEE WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE
In other words...
Just Be, Just Be as you think you should Be
for you are not me to Be...so just Be.
The Gryphon, The Phoenix, and The Dragon
The Gryphon
The Phoenix
The Dragon
The Lords of Wind and Flame
The Masters of the Sky
The Gryphon
The feline raptor
The Golden Lord
The flyer of the high winds
The Fighter
The Phoenix
The fire bird
The Scarlet Master
The creature of golden red glittering light
The Resurector
The Dragon
The scaled one
The ebony god
The beast of magic, mystery, and power
The King.
In Memory of You
in memory of you
my love
to celebrate your life
this poem shall be written down
to ease the others strife
for though the loss of you, of you
has struck us deep and painfully true
and left us hurt and bleeding
our memories of you, of you
forever will be teeming.
Waking Up in the Morning
Silver blue light streams in through
the tall panes of the window onto
the worn worden floor where
the woodstove sits
the ashes have grown cold and
it's raining again
The little couch is wrecking
my back but
the leather sofa
across the room is
always chill
The wooden grate on
top of the stairs wasn't closed
to keep you from falling
and breaking your neck
I hope I don't snore
as loud as the rest
the noise is a raucous
My cousin has
just rolled over
The bed screeches
just like an old banshee
only twice as screechy
t's the worst bed in the house
aside from my aunt and uncles
It's like sleeping on a brick walk
only less forgiving
I open up the
old cast iron stove
the first one up
As usual.
Mother Earth
She's there for you,
just outside.
Waiting and willing to listen
to your woes, your worries,
your joys.
She's the best mother,
'cause she's always there
for you,
always encompassing you
in her arms.
She speaks rarely,
preferring to listen,
but if you sit quiet
for a while,
she will soothe you,
and comfort you,
and hold you,
in her arms.
Sky Battle
I stood in the open, eyes full of pain, as I watched the skies, the battle of heavens satanistic cousin, as they waged war.
I stood and cried support to the dome of the earth, to no avail, for before my very eyes, the sun was blocked out, engulfed in dark mist.
The last blue of the sky I saw being kicked from human sight by a foot, a fist of immense black cloud, as the thunderheads roiled above.
Now, as the thunder deafens my ears, as the lightning sears my eyes, as the rains slashes my face, I fell to my knees and prayed for mercy.
And then the clouds parted, and there the blue sky shone, and to my mortal shame, I realized, that the heavens would always be there.
And now, for the piece de ressistance!
Writers Block
This is a poem about writers block.
....
....
....
I told you it was a poem about writers block!
_________________ Fear sam bith a loisgeas a mhà s, ‘s e fhèin a dh’fheumas suidhe air.
Far an taine ‘n abhainn, ‘s ann as mò a fuaim.
Is ladarna gach cù air a shitig fhèin.
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