A Book of Poems

1)Imagery: The Carnival: The dark clouds strolled away like a giant slug and left the title singed.

The colorful carousel, it used to gleam and dance around like a star,

It is now capsized, and the colors distilled with the tears of rain.

Beams thrown down onto the stage, contorted like softened marble.
The Drums, Guitars, and Bases abandoned on the cold floor.

Roller-coasters left to rust in place, old and small they decay,
Colors fade from red streaks as every minute passes.

Plastic tubs were chucked far and around the wide expanse.

In front are their organs; water, apples, and various toys,

(they all desperately gasp for water but to no fruition)

The food, mashed by the hard rains and wind.

Only remnants to be seen, puddles of goop.

The place of Joy, collided onto itself, similar to,

A house of cards.  So much work that was

Done, but attempts were all for naught.

In the beginning, there were howls of

Laughter ringing through the fair

But now there is only the howl

The wind makes, despair

2)The Old: a limerick; There once was a man of great respect 

One day he took a long rest;

After decades of toil,

Now concealed in soil

A wooden house in he was kept

3)  Syntax: The Name; 

Hello. 
My name?
Don’t have one. 
Not very sure why.
Many people have a name.
Do you have a name perhaps? 
Is the name given or given self? 
Do you not want to know your name? 
It is very peculiar for how you act then. 
Because it seems you search your name when you don’t. 
I do not search much either, it is difficult. 
However, difficulty is part of finding a name. 
Some find finding their own names enjoyable.
Some find finding other’s names enjoyable.
What, you want my name? 
Is it that important? 
Let me think. 
I’ll be. 
Bob.

4)The Visitor; 

Welcome to my home,

Let me give you a tour before you go.

This is your home?

Yes, this is my home.

Here is the front door, 

I find it quite the bore.

This is your front door?

Yes, my front door.

Here is my hallway, with many jackets,
and these are my racquets,
I play badminton.

You play badminton?

Yes, I play badminton.
Now, this is-
That was your hallway, the one with many jackets and racquets?

...Yes, that was my hallway-the one with many jackets and racquets-
This is my kitchen, I do not know how to cook.
And so I usually use the internet or this book.
...

So let’s-

This is your kitchen where you keep your book as well as cook?

Yes, this kitchen-where I keep my book as well as cook- precisely so,
One last place and then you’ll go.

One last place and then I’ll go?

Yes, one last place and then you’ll go.

Now here is the bedroom, where I keep my gun.

Your gun?

Yes, here it is, my gun!

…
…
Hours later, the police arrived,
But the visitor lay soundly asleep,

At the bedside.

5)On the Other Side of the Hole; 

What lies beyond, the other side of this hole?

Hidden behind a smoke covered wall. 

The air is thick, it’s too hard to see,
Bullets rage outside, too hard to leave.

I wanted protection from the other side,
Never thought to want to say bye,
To say bye with no possibility
Of meeting again.

A tiny peep in the hole, it tells me to shoot,
I feel the earthly quake in my boots.

The enemy grows, bigger and bigger,
My hand pulls for the trigger.

A mother calls the child for dinner,

Away from his war games

And on the other side of the earth, they’re deciding the winner.
And fill the earth of many holes

6) Child in the Pool: 

Here I am,
A child in the pool.
I have no school,
I do what I can.

Here I am,
A shark in the pool.
To locate a fool,

I do what I can.

Here I am,
A child who sees
A rather large fin
Poke out like a beam.

Here I am,
A shark who smells
A very small thing
That, at least, I can tell

Here I am,
A child with no gaunt

I swim as the fin gets closer,
I wish it to not levant

Here I am,
The  shark getting closer,
To the prey in-sight
To taste its morsel.

Here I am,
A fish in the pool.
Wait what is that-

Here I am,
A shark leaving the pool,
I’ve had my fill.
And it is getting quite cold.

Here I am,
A child leaving the pool,
I return to my family,
While, the fish, I chew.

7) The Flower: 

I am a flower,
As bright as day
To gain my power,
Photosynthesis is my way.
[This way I live]
I am not the brightest though,
For some flowers are as bright as snow

I can’t help but compare myself as less,
The thought of this causes me to wilt.
[Why do I live?]

I realize others won’t be worth my time.

I keep on to survive,
How I will be better,
Is that I survive the weather.

[That’s why I live.]

A creature comes, it bites me in two

I do not blame him, I do not feel blue.
He must live, just like I,
My children after me will carry on my legacy
[They will live]

8) The Lock: 

I am a lock,
Simply a lock.
There is not a lot,
To my existence.

I am a lock on a locker,
Simply a lock locked to a locker
There are things much better
To witness.

I am a lock locked onto a locker
But a lock locked onto a locker with books
Some are left, some are took,
They are of interesting subsistence.

I am a lock locked onto a locker with books
A lock locked onto a locker more interesting than it looks.
Each book is filled with knowledge the reader needs,
For the protection of these books, I am the assistance.

9) Silence;                                       Silence, that is what I am.

A large expanse of emptiness, I am.

Trees surround my back, and the streets surround my front

I am streets and walls, nothing more, except for tables, and of course the floor

However, this is only at a certain time, when I am silent, only when the people lay on their desks

When the time comes, I am loud, filled with chats, bangs, and yells. When the time arrives I am the bell.

10) Ode: Ode to the Writer’s Tool: 

This is the writer’s tool.

It has many different shapes and sizes

Can be for analysis or narrative

It can’t be understated

That this utility is of many uses

It cannot be debated

It is held in the hand’s palm,

The shape just like a straw, 

But their strength,
makes them not as easy to break.

The sound is euphoric

When put on paper

The sketch and scratch

As you write a caper.

A tool that can be used,

In infinite ways.

And we see their existence,

Every single day.

11) Darkness: 

I feel for my hands

They say there’s a cloth

A cloth of sheep, woven to lines, 

And lines woven into squares,

And squares that are woven together.

I feel to the right.

My hands say there is a point, 

A rough point sharp on the point but smooth on the edge.

I feel around the point,

My hands say it is smooth.

The texture of plastic, 

While being tougher to.

I feel upwards to that,

My hands tell me there is an edge in the air.

Rough paper levitating, like a crescent moon.

I feel inside the crescent,

My hands tell me there is an orb of plastic, 

It does not know what it is,

But my brain does.

I feel downwards.

My hands tell me there are floating beads. 

And so I pull on the ironweed.

There’s a thin foil of paper,

That glows like the sun

It creates pain

The reason it creates pain is since the paper was solid

The lamp must have fallen

My eyes and head tell me.

12) The Scarecrow: 

The light breathes into me

As does the wind

I am surrounded by stalks

Used for lint.

I look around, stalks all to see,

Nothing to watch

Except for the crop’s size to increase.

The wind blows through me, a chill through my spine.

When suddenly, I think I might die.

This is because of a horde of clouds

Dressed doves: except black and loud.

They dive towards the field.

This must be the end of it

My heart beats in fear every second of it

Then they stop, and drift away, they went in a leap.

The only reason I could come up with

Is that they feared

Me.

13) Light: 

I am a wave

That has no sea

I am many

And many is me

I come in a flash

Then disappear just as fast

I can live up in a tower,
Saving lives is one power
That I have

14) The Flock: 

The flock we are,

We flap our wings through the sky

What is our reason?

So that we may survive.

We float along bars

We follow no beacon

Just somewhere to lie

Some lay on the concrete

Some lay on a roof

Others lay onto a man

(when onto a man, it will make them sneeze if they can)

But the place to lay, no-place can beat,

A flowery group

However any dirt will do,

Since that is how our ancestors grew

15)The Sweet: 

I am a treat!

Small and neat

The tasty thing

That makes you leap

A rainbow of taste

Makes you feel like your on wings.

I can be so many different things

I can be a delicious chocolate cake

For that though, you might have to wait

I could be a scoop of frozen cream

Do not eat me if you want to be lean

I could be a cup of frosting and bread 

Although I could leave you aching in bed

I could be a piece both sweet and sour

However,

I shouldn’t be something you eat for hours.

It leaves out other friends you could try,

Eat me too much and many people could cry
For many of me could leave you to die

I know I’m delicious, but do not weep,

Although I am sugar, most of my stories are bitter-sweet.

16) The Knightmare: 

A majestic field, tall grass all around,
The ground
Feels soft on my feet

I creep

Through the elegant brown

I spy a head round
It shines in the sky
I find
The being to have no face
That case

Gave Creeps up me like a growing stalk

It walks

Towards me, like it is on a stroll

I practically roll

Away from the straw-filled beast

The yeast majestic field, tall grass all around,
Grabs me and keeps me down

On the ground

Which gives the scarecrow time to arrive

It says hi

As the opening mouth runs with bugs

The yeast tugs

At my arms and legs 

I beg

For the pain to stop at the beast tall

And then the alarm

On the Farm.
17) Narrative Poem: 

The Man made of Straw; There once was a man, made of straw.
A cowardly man, made of straw.
The slightest match could be his downfall.

So he stayed in his house on a hill,
He read books and books for time to kill.
He read and he read

Book after book.

No matter how long it took.
But what happened when he was out of books?

Well, he had to go to the house of books, this man of straw,
It was in the city, down the hill.
So full of flames and heat it will
He could surely be killed.

That man of straw, as scared as he was,
went out to the city,
That man of straw.
In this town, he was met with peril,
Cigars, and smoke, and smog, grills of large to little.
Scared out of his mind, all that he passed by.

His destination was finally made, the man of straw.
Books he took, every name he could call.
He couldn’t pick too many, that was the rules.
So he sat down at a desk, for the top books to choose.

There was a lamp on that desk, and that lamp made a spark
Onto the books of paper.

He leaped off the desk, his eyes of straw showed fear,
As the books, in flames, would surely disappear.
He ran to a fire hydrant, the first responder
And blasted at the books, and defeated the baker.

jumped for joy, at the man’s reaction.
The man of straw smiled and put the rest of his day in action.
He took his chosen books, back to his home.
But he thought of the city, and when back, he would go.

18) Haiku: The Book; 

A piece of paper
Formed into a story
Its tale told throughout

19)Poem Pair: The Cup of Water and The Wildfire; The Cup of Water:

Melted sand, into a beaker
Put under an instant waterfall
The beaker inhales, the flowing waterfall’s substance
Like a giant gasping for air.
And then the beaker turns into a lake
A collection of clear liquid, reflecting all that it sees
There are many things to do with this lake
You could give it to the plants, or let it trickle down a dirty plate

Or gulp it down your throat, the taste refreshing and cold
It fills you up, and keeps you, healthy.

The Wildfire

Streak of lighting
Passes through a stalk

Igniting it like a match
Thrown into the trees
A blazing heat storms through
Creatures and critters run through the smoke

While leaves burn away into ash
Heat spreads from trunk to trunk to consume everything

And when all is said and done, all there is ash.

But soon life will grow from this soft gravel, they will soon.

20) The Cave:

 The Screeches do drip through it
The click along with the clack of feet
Then click or the clip for memories
And the sight and the sound of many streams
You go travel so around and find the gleam