Really Bad Poetry

random scribblings by Sarah

Currently, these poems come from an anthology I did recently for English class. Hopefully, more and better poems will follow (as soon as I decide to type them up).

At Night
Emptiness unfolds
in solitude darkness brings.
I’m haunted by thoughts
of the past day, wondering
what things may come tomorrow.

Starry Night
Stars are like pieces of inspiration
scattered onto the tapestry of the world,
each one a brilliant idea
collected since the beginning of time.
Great minds are put on display each night
in this infinite gallery of light,
so that others, looking up,
may find inspiration from the heavens.

A Moment, Please
I try
to just pause time
thinking I could stop life
and have some peace, so I turn off
my watch.

Understanding?
I do not understand
how some people find happiness in others’ pain
how some people can be blind to what stares them in the face
how something can bring so much joy
and so much torment concurrently.
But most of all I do not understand
how people can live life ignoring what they do not know
and exulting in their ignorance,
how it does not seem to bother people that they do not understand
and how many people do not even realize that they will never know.
What I understand most are questions
which have no simple answers,
and that we can not just accept what we are told;
what we know must constantly adapt to new questions that are asked
and that the answers only serve to create more questions.

Enlightenment
Looking out the window
she was amazed by what she saw.
When she let go of misconceptions
of life, she was in awe.

All the things she never noticed
were suddenly made clear
when she opened up her eyes
and let go of her fear :

Trees were not oak or maple
or even brown or green.
Each of its kind was beautifully different
when not just its label was being seen.

Each man had a way of his own,
unchecked by what’s proper or true
Each star was the light of the world
immersed in its deep sea of blue.

From Ocean to Shore
Over cool blue, the waves
captivate my spirit with
endless serenity. I am strangely tranquil also
as I am held by their relentless power, though as a willing prisoner.
Never will I be ready to leave.

Nominal
She watches the world
asking herself questions
realizing that the answers may be discouraging, yet
always wanting to look for the
humor in life.

Seven Years of Bad Luck
By capturing a glimpse
of some part of ourselves
that previously
we could never acknowledge,
a poem is a mirror
holding the reflection
of our deepest hopes and insecurities
put into words,
tangible ideas
that hesitate on the smooth glass
of the paper.

The Composer
What beneath the moon
capturing the moment
manipulates the shadows
to produce a dream?
(this elaborate symphony
of contorted beauty
only vulnerable to the light)

Looking for Change, but Lacking in Sense
shimmering pennies tempt you into the fountain
you climb over the edge
reach down in the depths of blue
grasping for copper
your hand pulls up sand
disappointment
as it trickles through your fingers
fragments of light glint in your eye
so you reach down again
yearning for what you gave up
realizing too late
what you lost

A Self-defeating Delusion
We all sit here blinking blindly,
Staring at the sun,
Miserable in our perceived nirvana,
Afraid to reach out to anyone.

Stranded in a lonely crowd,
Thirsty for the desert’s sand,
Reaching for an empty promise
Offered by an empty hand.

Looking for the perfect answer,
Sifting through the questions,
Hopeful in this desperate dream
Bred by misconceptions…

And who can help but wonder,
But who can stop to think
As our lives spin madly around us,
And our chances for happiness shrink.

Taboo
part of me
may lie and say
the words you think you
know you’ll hear
but to know
what inside I feel is true
might change some part
inside of you
the part where we were friends

Shadows
A starless sky, silent,
as the impending moonlight
threatens to expose its beauty,
its secrets, and its shame;
casting light upon its inner thoughts
and outer appearances.
But with the light comes shadows
of what stands in its way.

The Battle at the Cove
A roaring torrent of color
stretches to eternity.
The liquid movement
and its solid edge
collide and fight an unending battle.
Who will conquer the other?
The blue backs up
then races madly towards its doom
and for an instant
overcomes it
until, collapsing, it subsides
and is pushed away.
Then rippling in defeat
it retreats, colors rocking and changing
as it plots its next attack.
It will never learn.

I Love the Supermarket
The grocery store is full of useful things
that I don’t need.
I walk in
searching for one specific item
finding everything but that
as I walk down the aisles.
Finally, in the last aisle
way in the corner,
buried behind black licorice and lemon drops
I find what I want (they must have moved it)
and proceed to the checkout.
Standing at one end
of the perpetual row of registers
I glance up at the lighted numbers,
looking for the shortest line.
I pass a register free of customers
but the sign says express lane, cash only.
I check the change in my pocket
and move on.
There is one register
with a long line of people
stretching back past the magazines,
surely not the only one open,
But it is.
Checking my watch impatiently,
I wait as each person moves through the line.
The idiot cashier, first day on the job,
learns the ropes of the machine by chance
pushing one button after another until the tray pops open.
Price check on bananas, Can no one seem to find prices on fruit?
The number of people in front of me dwindles from seven
to two to none.
I leave the store triumphantly,
my pack of gum in hand,
and walk across the parking lot
to my car
which has just been dented by a stray shopping cart.

That's it! I can't take it anymore! Take me Home!