It's poem time!

Me being, well, me, poems can come from anywhere. What you are about to see started out (and still are) as little scribbles on note cards and scrap paper I made during free time at school. Enjoy :)

You know that feeling of power you get when doing something you love? That was how I got this first (and my favorite) poem.

My Domain
I have the mind of a writer, a strong warrior in the city of imagination. With my pencil at hand, ready for anything. I say what goes, and there is nothing about to stop me. Ideas flooding my brain, making me dream in poems. I am the ruler here. Go ahead and try to block me. As a writer, you'll regret it. This is my world now.


We seem to be doing favorites, so here is one that my mom likes. This is based off the fact that when I have a new book idea, my arms and legs get covered in goosebumps

Goosebumps
You make me all jittery and awake all day. A warning sign of book ideas going to my inner mind. The writer inside creeps into the read world, making my ideas take over. The soothing cold feeling of inspiration comforts me. Dreaming in perfect rhyme. Nothing being, nothing real, yet making perfect fact. Listening to the call of characters, waiting to hear their words.


Ya, some could call it a curse. The poet's curse. (Try talking like a pirate when reading this next one)

The poet's curse
I, let me tell yer, a saddest take to true. Always be careful and watch your back, or child, it could happen to you. This story's 'bout a young one, who read too many books. He read by day and wrote by night and poor fella got the Poet's Curse. He walked in perfect rhythm, and spoke in limericks. He pretended he was a pirate, eating with toothpicks. See, dear friend, readin's good but always do beware. You could get the Poet's Curse. It can happen anywhere.


Luckily, the curse has some flaws. I read that poem to a friend who didn't seem to interested.

Why did I show her the poem?
Why did i show her the poem? I knew she'd find it bad. She said it was fine, no foolin' me, the look on her face said sad. Why did I show her the poem? Who'd care for a Poet's Curse? I felt it was great but truth be told, I bet she thought it was the worst. Showing the poem was a bonehead move, gosh I was being dumb. Why did I show her the poem? At least the worst is done.

Ok, so we all agree that could use a better ending. Don't blame me! Blame the kid next to me!

The kid next to me
That kid next to me is going insane! He keeps whispering like some stupid game. Now way can I work with the constant clatter. If this all keeps up my grade will do shatter. I asked ever so nicely, I even said please. But he won't shut up, can't someone help me!? Now he keeps singing the same stupid song. This seating arrangement is going all wrong. This loud noisy kid, why me why me? Get him out of here! I'm begging you, please!

There isn't much you can work with when you have someone slapping a pencil on the desk. However, the person that is never to blame is the teacher. This is for my LA teacher for 7th grade, Mrs. DeYoung.

To Mrs. DeYoung
I love the stories you have us write, it's one of the coolest things to do. I live for the ideas you bestow on us, they have been getting into my dreams. To say it all you're an awesome teacher, and I love the class you teach. You are an inspiration, Mrs. Deyoung, and that is never going to leave.


Know what I will really miss about my teachers this summer? That they are nice to you even when you make a mistake. The story: I had some down time so I went to my locker to get something to read. I grabbed something that I already finished on accident. I was not too thrilled with myself.

My middle name is Stupid
My middle name is 'Stupid', it's awful sad to say. I got the wrong book from my locker while watching the others play. It really was a dumb mistake, and I'll admit to being harsh. But when everything is said and done, my middle name will always be 'Stupid', and I'll never have any fun.

Ouch. I must have been feeling something like this when I wrote that.

On the verge
It has nothing to do with me, so why and I acting like this? My eyes water, my stomach freezes in my throat. I am on the verge on an anxiety attack. Feeling as if I would vomit, my head is going to explode. This is going to be the longest day of my life. My eyes, wide like a deer in the headlights. Holding back my breakfast, this is the end for all i know. And I have nothing to do with it.

Good think I always spring back!

Rubber Bands
Zoing! Flying across the room. Aim, fire, going all over the place. Smack! Hits the wall. The teacher turns and stares. The rubber band is no more.

Best thing about school getting out? NO MORE MATH!

To math
Math how I hate you, you make me feel sick. That dumb number line just looks like a stick. I see no such point in finding the X. Math, dear math, the useless class.

May your summer be full of metaphors for fun!