Just a whole bunch of random poems I've written, most of them for my creative writing class last year.

*NEW 9/12/01*
Three Cinquain
Five-Sense Poems
Smile
Necklace
Alone on My Island
Tears
Hansel & Gretel: The Witch's Perspective

Three Cinquain: (2/9/01) Written for Creative Writing, just formula poems.

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Five Sense Poems: (2/12,13/01) More formula poems from Creative Writing.
Nervousnes is as black as an empty auditorium;
It sounds like worried sobs
and Tastes like a fright-dry mouth.
Nervousness smells like salty sweat;
It looks like a rejection letter;
and It makes me feel trapped.

Hope is the yellow of warm sunshine;
It sounds like agnels singing hosannas
And tastes like clear, pure, cool water.
Hope smeels like brownies baking;
It looks like the dawn of the Winter Solistice (in Sweden);
and It feels like a soft towel pressed against my cheek.

Nostalgia is grey,
             It sounds like a sighing wind.
             It feels like a remembered hug.
             It tastes like the aftertaste of mint.
             It smells like Grandma's apple pie.

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Smile: I don't actually know when I wrote this, I found it sitting around on my computer.
A smile
           happy and carefree
lifting and lighting
           you up.

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Necklace, a Haiku: (2/9/01)
A silver necklace,
chain always around my neck,
holds memories close.

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Alone on My Island: (3/20/01) We had to write a poem addressed to an anonymous you that expressed an emotion. So I wrote this.
You turn away, and then,
I'm all alone
on my island in the storm-tossed sea.
There are no more dinosaurs
to keep me company.

Why won't you look at me?
It's like I'm drowning
and you won't come near.
I'm in the middle of the deep grey sea
and no one can hear.

You don't look, so
no one does.
The clouds hae covered the moon,
and she's waning to darkness,
oh so soon.

I don't know why I bother, to try
and get your attention.
I'm the only tree on this windy plain.
You've all left me alone,
under the pouring rain.

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Tears: (3/2/01) Written in Creative Writing, but not for the class. Just random stuff.
Tears start to flow without my orders.
Hot tears of pain coalesce in my eyes,
My eyes which ache as I try
Try to hold back the tears.

Eventually they win the fight.
I must give in as they flow,
flow down my face without my say-so,
So salty and bitter these tears.

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Hansel & Gretel: The Witch's Perspective: (April 2001) We had to write a fractured fairy tale poem for CW class.
I spent the last decade
making and baking and icing
that perfect gingerbread house.
It was my pride,
my entry in the 1,242nd annual
Witches' Cookery Competition.
I had just finished adding the final touches, when
those stupid kids showed up.
They started tearing into it, eating all my hard work.
I was so furious,
all my work was wasted, ruined!

So I lost my temper, big deal.
That didn't give them the right to shove mein here.
My last batch of gingerbread--
ruined!
At least witches don't burn.

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