Welcome~
I do a lot of spontaneous poetry. Most of it just comes out of nowhere - I don't plan, I just write it as it comes to me, and because of that, a lot of the time, it may not make a whole lot of sense. When I'm finished, I know what I meant, but I leave it up to everyone's own interpretation - granted they don't say that's exactly what I meant, unless they've asked first. x)

So, I'm going to post up new and old poetry of mine, and I hope that you'll all comment. ^^ I'm not so much looking for criticism as I am looking to see what it makes you think of. This isn't to say I won't take criticism, though, I just already think they're pretty horrible. If you do give criticism, please be gentle~ I'm too sensitive for my own good. If you don't have criticism, tell me what you think the poem meant or what you think it's about! ^^ I'm very curious to see how I'm getting my message across - if at all.

A lot of my poetry has to deal with little wonders and thoughts and beliefs I've had, while some of it has nothing to do with me at all, but instead some observation or another I saw in someone else.


Table of Contents
Poems #1-5
Poems #6 & 7

Poem #1
Daisies

Daisies sway and daisies play,
They giggle and gossip,
They stare but they swoon.

The decrepit old man, he crawls
Across the sidewalk
On his decrepit old legs,
His beard a’waving in the breeze.

He whispers to something,
Someone,
That you cannot see.

They lock ‘im up,
Tie ‘im up,
Tell ‘im it’s all a lie
And he’s wrong -
Wrong, wrong, wrong,
Ever so wrong,
Sir.

There are no daisies, there are no dream days,
There is no castle and no land of yours.
It is nothing but a fabrication, from a bad childhood,
And your insanity.

Away in his padded cell,
Tied ever so tight in these ever so white sleeves,
The old man cackles:
He is pleased.

He tells his kingdom what has happened,
How this place these people call reality is so upside down,
So inside out,
That we believe that there are no such things as daisies.


Poem #2
once

there was a time that when I tried
I often cried
for fall & failure

but the recent has been slight -
I am short on sight
and make haste

yes this means I have succeeded
but had I needed
such bull-headed confidence

...

perhaps I would have asked twice


Poem #3
How can I ever?

How can I ever hope to spread
when I am bound
by invisible thread?

How can I ever hope to show
when I am covered
by lonely snow?

How can I ever hope to fly
when I am taken down (time and again)
by every cry?


Poem #5
i wish

i wish i wish i wish
i wished upon that star
but it must have been a plane

Poem #6
a flitter flutter by

a flitter flutter by
once told me a lie
i thought that i could
perhaps teach him what i would
do instead of falsing
and then we went off waltzing

"once upon a fry,"
i told him, "i said i would not tell a lie."
and all he could reply:
"a functly plumply told, but why?"

it came across me later
that perhaps i should not play the hater
and that though a flitter flutter by
may every time tell a lie
there is no reason to push
upon him my own lest to make the world go blush


Poem #7
A RAINBOW!

A hope, a glee, a chance for things to mix and change; I watch the rainbow fall upon the floor, an arch across the sky, one side to side to side to side, as it is scratched by the pellets of rainy love.

The grass! it screams in joy and it cries for you. Oh, it cries for you because you won't enjoy its mother. Oh! the leaves, the plants, the trees, the flowers - they all cry for you.

The slippery cement may be your downfall, and the mud may make them tease, but if you can only look past these mishaps that are irrelevant in any case, you can only see the happiness, the birth, the care, the compassion, the love, the life.

And that's all that ever ever ever mattered, but no one ever ever ever seemed to care: the happiness, the birth, the care, the compassion, the love, the life. No, oh no, sir. No one ever seemed to care.

So the ground - it will cry for you. Not for when you walk on it, but for when you don't.

The grass - it will cry for you. Not for when you pull at it, but for when you don't.

The plants, the leaves, the trees, the flowers - they will cry for you. Not for when you happen not to notice, but for when you look and don't acknowledge.

Lest us not forget that the animals - they, too, they will cry for you.