Author's Note: Hello, it's been a while since I was on the writing forum and wow....that last fan fiction was terrible! Sorry guys, didn't really know what I was doing at the time. Well, now I like doing something that's a little different than what I used to do, which is poetry. I only have one poem that I'm not completely embarrassed of at the moment, but hopefully with time I can update more. So, feel free to comment, question, and give suggestions!
A girl lives in a town, not knowing up from down.
She sees a boy’s frown and hopes to turn it around.
The new boy is in the house and unpacks his mother’s blouse.
He sees his father drowse and has yet to know what will arouse.
It is now the girl’s birthday, and she invited the boy to come away.
The boy gladly said okay, and came with the girl for a party to stay.
They both hit into their teen years not knowing how to take pressure from peers.
The boys would say “drink beers” while the girls would bully, but shed no tears.
Girl looked to the boy as a safe haven, and the boy saw her home as a place to stay in.
Both of their lives were complicated, and both of them grew frustrated.
Both went for college, education hungry, living at the opposite ends of the country.
They lived in their homes humbly, sometimes speaking to others bluntly.
Both came back and back as friends, knowing that they wouldn’t leave each other again.
Though their lives pulled from within, they knew that the needed the other with them.
Though they were asked, it wasn’t romance. Both of them saw that out of chance.
Boy thought love was something out of his hands, girl found it interrupting with her plans.
Both grew old together, passing through generations. How fast time went by, it was a revelation.
Suddenly kids were at the end of their destination, all grown up, finishing their exploration.
Both of them died, and were easily forgotten. Neither had family left to feel rotten.
Their house sat there, sometimes trodden, with the occasional bloom of leftover cotton.
A new family moves in, a girl at the age of eight. Little does she know about the boy beyond the gate.
She doesn’t feel her life becoming great. Yet it is, like a flower, blooming a little late.
Over Again (did this for a short poem contest)
The crash of bottles
brings bad things
with his arms he throttles
and in my head I hear screams
I hope you all like it, and if not, please tell me why!