Poems sprouting left and right

Yip-de-ya-do-da, yip-de-do-day, oh what a day!

Okay, here's the scoop ya'll. This is just a little a collection of poems that I've written roughly from sixth grade to the present. Some of them are simple, some shocking, some hilariously ridiculous, but I hope you enjoy them all, despite their amateur writer.

This one I wrote on our trip out West a month or so after I turned eleven:

"It All Started As a Dream"

It all started as a dream and this poem tells you how,

Would you like to hear the story later? Or would you rather hear it now?

But since I a'ready started, I may as well continue,

For someone else may tell it wrong, and you would be confused. Kashew! [that was my random way of sneezing to making it rhyme:D]

It all started with Mum's surgery

Surgery number three

Or maybe it was number one, or maybe number two,

Or maybe number four or five,

I'm not sure, ar you?

Mum was feeling very bad

Not the mean kind, not sad,

But she was in enormous pain,

For operations had left her part slain.

Mum was feeling very low,

She needed something to give her cheer,

What could be better than a trip?

B'sides, it would keep the males from drinking beer. [whoah I was weird back then! In case you don't know, my dad and brothers never drink that dark beverage:)]

And so that you are not confused,

This trip, by Mum was fused,

It was not fused by Craig or Dad,

Neither Kendra, Clyde, nor Chad.

But then did Mum both think and plan,

And then discuss it with "her man"

In him she did doth confide

Leaving him and God to decide

Then she dreamed and hoped,

Hoped and scanned,

Then she told us what she had planned

Then WE dreamed and hoped,

Knowing hopes too high would be absurd,

Then Dad told us what he had heard,

He said he thought we could take the trip,

And if he had heard wrong, may he feel the Whip,

And if that happened, we wouldn't go,

No matter how many "buts" and "thoughs."

"Whoopee!" we cried.

But then we sighed,

The packing list will be long,

And we may by chance do something wrong,

"Never fear!" My mumma said,

"Never fear for I am near!"

So we packed, and then were sent

To Herbert, New York, away we went!

And then the next day

(the thirteenth of May)

We left first thing, for Indianay!

There, we picked up Kendra, the vile,

(Though "vile" is really not true),

And then we hung about for awhile,

And left at half past two.

From there we went to Illinois,

(Or Springfield, to be more exact)

And stayed at Baymont Inn and Suites,

(A hotel all out of wack).

Alas, I never finished the poem, though I had planned to proceed to describe the whole rest of our trip through Kansas, Colorado, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, etc. but obviously never completed my masterpiece. :-) Oh, here's another poem from my memory that I wrote before sixth grade (more likely in fourth grade), with a little help to the final touches (such as rhythm) from Craig, because we were sending the poem to some people as a thank you gift for helping us out when we were stranded in New York. Their names are the Bowens:

It happened on the hour one,

In the afternoon so clear,

When the Bowens took us in,

Fed us hot dogs and root beer.

They gave us lots of tasty food,

That I can't deny,

But why they were so kind to us,

I cannot tell you why.

They let the boys watch football,

That I HAVE to say,

But most importantly of all,

They were host and hostess all the way!

K, here's another. The first stanza was inspired by when I was lying in bed on a bright moonlit night and I constructed at least part of this poem in my head and scribbled it down by moonlight so I wouldn't forget it.

"I love. . . "

I love the moon as she shines in the night,

Her light is not yellow, gray, but white,

Her silvery rays gently glimmer and glisten,

Her beauty just shouts! (just be quiet and listen)

I love the sun as she gives gentle heat,

Her little soft sunbeams are oh, so sweet,

I love her most when she shines through the cold,

She seems so young, yet she is so old!

I love the wind as she skips through my hair,

At times she is forceful, yet at times she has care,

I love her also, when she sings in the trees,

And when in heat she refreshes me with a soft cool breeze.

But I love Jesus all the best,

For He created all the rest,

He dries my tears when I am sad,

And forgives me when I'm bad,

I'd like to see Him, here, today,

'Cause I love Jesus all the way!

Here's another I wrote during a March Feast for sixth grade:

Oh little stream, oh little brook,

All so soothing and so flowing,

What makes you clear and smooth as glass?

What makes you keep on going?

I like to sit and watch you,

Skipping o'er the stones,

And watch you splash and ripple,

Making musical tones.

I like to see you gliding,

And glis'ning in the sun;

And bubbling and gurgling,

Oh, that looks like such fun!

This is one that I have to laugh at its randomness. I wrote it when I was in Israel in sixth grade:

"The Violin's Woe"

The violin sang with all its might,

Sang, sang, sang into the night,

It shimmered and glimmered in the moonlight.

The violin cried, the violin sighed,

As it sang it also goodbyed,

The violin laughed, it gave a smile,

Treasuring time all the while.

As the violin would long so play,

People would listen and all would say:

"This violin's melody is pure and sweet,

It makes for us a beautiful treat!"

To this the violin never heeded,

Its Master's touch was all it needed,

For the violin loved its Master much,

And its soul sang out at his kindly touch.

The violin's soul would sing out it's bliss,

"Ah, this man I truly shall miss!"

For this was to be the last time he'd play it,

And then, who knows? Someone may betray it,

And I shall explain soon just why,

The violin knew this man would die,

And this, only the violin knew,

Why die?

Because the man was a Jew,

And this was World War Two.

Here's another random one that I conjured up last summer when to my startled surprise, I spotted a bright red leaf on the road in the middle of summer:

"A Red Leaf in Summer"

I was walking down the path one day,

One sunny, summer morning,

Before me on the path there lay,

A bright red leaf of warning.

Bloody red, edges black

And thoughtful veins of green,

It said, "Please stop! Return, go back!"

A stranger sight I've never seen.

I was about to turn away,

When then I heard a noise,

A bit ahead, right there it lay,

A jaguar, stiff, and poised.

Had I taken another step,

And ignored the little leaf's warning,

I would have been crowned in a funeral wreath,

My mother, nearby, in mourning.

So let this be a lesson to you,

If you see a strange sight, pay attention,

For though it may come in different forms,

Pay heed to a warningful mention.

So remember my story, I plead, I pray,

Try not to forget what my leaf had to say.

Okay, there are others I could put in if I could find or remember them or if I though they were worth it. I was supposed to cover different senses in my writing course last school year and not try to make it rhyme, which I don't like as much. So if you don't like it, I wouldn't be surprised, because I'm not that certain about it myself, and I'm not sure if it's perfected or anything like that (hey, none of these are really, anyway, so why am I going on like this?):

Ultimate frisbee

Dashing madly to be free of clinging opponents,

An opening--I snatch the frisbee out of the air

Confusing blaze of colorful players,

My name being pounded into my ears

I try a toss, but the breeze is against me

The frisbee topples toward the ground

But stops

A noble teammate rescues it.

I'm sticking to my defense

A sound, I turn my head

Wham! I taste blood on my lips

Blink back salty tears

And play on.

We're tied.

I dodge, alert, near the point line

Frisbee hovers in the air

I race with the wind at my back

I dive

Smell grass

Scrape my knee

Stand, clutching my prize

And drop it

The game is won.

I was required to write season poems also, here's one:
Summer
Quivering green leaves
Splash of jumping into a lake
Sweaty grip of the baseball bat
Cool watermelon
Pungent fresh cut grass
Lazy Summer.


Now another:
Green looks airy, like spring,
Green feels smooth, like a waxy leaf
Green smells dreamy like mint leaves,
Green sounds like the rustle of the wind in the leaves
Green tastes like sharp spearmint.


Peace is sitting snug indoors while a storm is raging.
Peace is getting a long hug from somebody dear to you.
Peace is feeling a hush during a Sabbath meeting.
Peace is knowing that everything's going to be all right.


Excitement is anticipation of an event weeks ahead of time.
Excitement is when a baby says your name for the first time.
Excitement is leaning forward to speed read through the best part in your book.
Excitement is completing something thrilling that you've never done before. (like jet skiiing!:)


I am the fire
I chuckle as I feed on wood,
Jumping in my fireplace
People blink at my smoky breath,
I wonder why nobody wants to touch me.

Phew! Hope I haven't exhausted you! I wouldn't blame you if you are. I think I would definitely be.