I'm new
Hi!
I'm new. I'm 17 and from California. I write a lot of poetry. My problem is that I don't know if it's any good. I really like Sylvia Plath, Robert Frost, e.e. cummings, and Paul Lawrence Dunbar.
I want to be an opera singer when I grow up but I write a lot just for me.
I'd love to know what you think. Please be honest and tell me if you think they're awful. I don't post some of the ones I think are way too personal, although I think those ones may be the best ones. Anyway, here are my three poems.
#1:
This rose
A gift from you
Blushing, beautiful, perfect
Velvet petals, red-veined leaves
Vivid and vibrant, scented of love.
Oh, sweet rose!
This single bloom must live forever.
I press it close to me,
Embracing love and absorbing perfume.
I press it closer to my white breast
That I may be one with perfect beauty.
A fierce thorn
Pierces my beating heart.
Beating slows, blood flows.
The rose falls.
Now here it lies
Crushed intoxication
Bloody elegance
Broken perfection
All that remains is a hole in my heart, spurting blood—
Eventually only a scar.
#2: A sestina
These days begin with the kiss of the breeze
On my shoulders, those same shoulders your knowing
Arms rest across at night. As the daisies
Shudder I stare across the lavender horizon.
I turn on my hip to wake you, but instead admire your peaceful eyes,
Shut to the world, drowning in their green shade.
The brittle grass blows across the plain, calling me from the shade
To breathe the scent of blossoms and race the simple breeze.
Images tease my eyes
Offering their knowing
Of everything, as well as what is beyond the lavender horizon.
I always choose instead to retain my perfect innocence and consult the daisies.
“Adorable flowers!” I whisper. I will not uproot the daisies;
Let them be immortal. I vow to rouse you from your shade
Before the horizon
Turns to wine, trickling away. The flowers tremble in the breeze
Calling out of me an ancient song. I sing, knowing
Soon I will be swimming in your soft green eyes.
Wandering back across the meadow, I turn my eyes
Heavenward, thankful for whatever made the daisies.
It is too stunning to comprehend alone, I think, knowing
You now unfasten eyelids in the tranquil shade
Where you had slept, cheek pressed to sod, impervious to the breeze,
Not tempted by the splendor of the lavender horizon.
I imagine (as I amble) your dark head resting as the horizon
Turns from lavender to amethyst, reflected in your eyes
Which gaze ahead, unfocused and unblinking, still oblivious to the breeze.
You will prefer to recline alone; you will stay without daisies
Within familiar and sheltering shade.
You—we—are afraid of lost purity, afraid of knowing.
But today is unlike other days. You are not afraid of knowing,
Not today. You chase the glittering horizon,
Laughing, no longer a living wedge of shade.
Your beautiful back welcomes this day. For the first time your eyes
Focus upon the majesty of daisies,
Twinkling and chuckling in the breeze.
A lark sings up our eyes meet at last. Holding hands we pass the shade.
We do not laugh or speak, knowing comfort as lavender remains on the horizon.
I kiss you on either cheek and we are motionless as the daisies dance in the breeze.
#3:
Trapped in this photograph I see a girl,
More wonderful than I will ever be
She lives within this world of stillness now
She laughs beneath the eucalyptus tree.
Her world is one of strictly black and white
She bends these barriers to mix in gray
A collarbone and arching back of grace,
And eyes that brightly penetrate the day.
While eyes are framed in lashes black as print,
Her hair falls thickly ‘cross her candid stare.
Behind her blushing cheek and earnest smile
There glows a brain, a voice, a breath of air.
I know this girl—I know her very well:
The times she sobbed alone beneath her quilt,
The boys she kissed in cryptic dark backyards,
Relationships she wrecked and left and built.
Oh, let the life come raining through us now!
We dream and write and think and sing and boast
We make our goals to reach them, fail or pass.
Is not the journey, though, what matters most?
Trapped in the photograph I see a girl,
More wonderful than I will ever be
She had a vibrant life and caring soul.
I know. I know this girl is really me.
And just for good measure, a haiku:
Here in the sun sits
Hydrogen and oxygen
Bonded on a rose.
I'm new. I'm 17 and from California. I write a lot of poetry. My problem is that I don't know if it's any good. I really like Sylvia Plath, Robert Frost, e.e. cummings, and Paul Lawrence Dunbar.
I want to be an opera singer when I grow up but I write a lot just for me.
I'd love to know what you think. Please be honest and tell me if you think they're awful. I don't post some of the ones I think are way too personal, although I think those ones may be the best ones. Anyway, here are my three poems.
#1:
This rose
A gift from you
Blushing, beautiful, perfect
Velvet petals, red-veined leaves
Vivid and vibrant, scented of love.
Oh, sweet rose!
This single bloom must live forever.
I press it close to me,
Embracing love and absorbing perfume.
I press it closer to my white breast
That I may be one with perfect beauty.
A fierce thorn
Pierces my beating heart.
Beating slows, blood flows.
The rose falls.
Now here it lies
Crushed intoxication
Bloody elegance
Broken perfection
All that remains is a hole in my heart, spurting blood—
Eventually only a scar.
#2: A sestina
These days begin with the kiss of the breeze
On my shoulders, those same shoulders your knowing
Arms rest across at night. As the daisies
Shudder I stare across the lavender horizon.
I turn on my hip to wake you, but instead admire your peaceful eyes,
Shut to the world, drowning in their green shade.
The brittle grass blows across the plain, calling me from the shade
To breathe the scent of blossoms and race the simple breeze.
Images tease my eyes
Offering their knowing
Of everything, as well as what is beyond the lavender horizon.
I always choose instead to retain my perfect innocence and consult the daisies.
“Adorable flowers!” I whisper. I will not uproot the daisies;
Let them be immortal. I vow to rouse you from your shade
Before the horizon
Turns to wine, trickling away. The flowers tremble in the breeze
Calling out of me an ancient song. I sing, knowing
Soon I will be swimming in your soft green eyes.
Wandering back across the meadow, I turn my eyes
Heavenward, thankful for whatever made the daisies.
It is too stunning to comprehend alone, I think, knowing
You now unfasten eyelids in the tranquil shade
Where you had slept, cheek pressed to sod, impervious to the breeze,
Not tempted by the splendor of the lavender horizon.
I imagine (as I amble) your dark head resting as the horizon
Turns from lavender to amethyst, reflected in your eyes
Which gaze ahead, unfocused and unblinking, still oblivious to the breeze.
You will prefer to recline alone; you will stay without daisies
Within familiar and sheltering shade.
You—we—are afraid of lost purity, afraid of knowing.
But today is unlike other days. You are not afraid of knowing,
Not today. You chase the glittering horizon,
Laughing, no longer a living wedge of shade.
Your beautiful back welcomes this day. For the first time your eyes
Focus upon the majesty of daisies,
Twinkling and chuckling in the breeze.
A lark sings up our eyes meet at last. Holding hands we pass the shade.
We do not laugh or speak, knowing comfort as lavender remains on the horizon.
I kiss you on either cheek and we are motionless as the daisies dance in the breeze.
#3:
Trapped in this photograph I see a girl,
More wonderful than I will ever be
She lives within this world of stillness now
She laughs beneath the eucalyptus tree.
Her world is one of strictly black and white
She bends these barriers to mix in gray
A collarbone and arching back of grace,
And eyes that brightly penetrate the day.
While eyes are framed in lashes black as print,
Her hair falls thickly ‘cross her candid stare.
Behind her blushing cheek and earnest smile
There glows a brain, a voice, a breath of air.
I know this girl—I know her very well:
The times she sobbed alone beneath her quilt,
The boys she kissed in cryptic dark backyards,
Relationships she wrecked and left and built.
Oh, let the life come raining through us now!
We dream and write and think and sing and boast
We make our goals to reach them, fail or pass.
Is not the journey, though, what matters most?
Trapped in the photograph I see a girl,
More wonderful than I will ever be
She had a vibrant life and caring soul.
I know. I know this girl is really me.
And just for good measure, a haiku:
Here in the sun sits
Hydrogen and oxygen
Bonded on a rose.
