Thursday, May 07, 2015

Inspired by Emily Dickinson...Post your poems here.


  1. I'm honored once again to be the first poem posted here. It truly has always been a dream of mine to be first post, and two in a row was never really in my sights. Flattered is an understatement. Rather than a poem about dying I choose a poem about living.

    The length of the thing
    we call - living - seems
    brief in comparison with
    the time of infinite dreams -

    The richness of being -
    eyes pried open against -
    the effervescent role of
    a mind and body tensed.

    Forever changing forever
    makes - living - a tiring
    task - yet always wins
    compared to expiring -

  2. I tried to model this poem after the poem, "I'm Nobody! Who are you?"

    I am someone - who are you?!
    are you someone too?
    then here is a couple of us-
    tell everyone to join us - they'll love us!

    how awesome it is to be someone!
    how exciting and how spectacular!
    to know people - to love people
    life is not an extracurricular -

  3. I decided to call this poem "A Buoy"

    Cutting through the morning haze
    I shine my light at passersby
    Tossed and turned by turbulent waves
    I try to stay grounded, but why?

    Guiding others while I am lost
    Enshrouded in the vastness of sea and sky
    Isolation is my sentence; my cost
    Ever alone as boaters sail on by.

    Chained to my anchor, while gasping for breath
    I exist for others to notice me
    I lead them to safety, while facing my death,
    A buoy adrift at sea.

  4. My poem is somewhat based off of the poem “‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers”

    “Dreams” are the things with wings-
    Though buried deep within us,
    They keep us going-
    On and on and on

    Dreams are the things that are easily forgotten-
    When harsh reality steps in-
    It’s cold, unforgiving darkness-
    Can weigh down the optimistic wings of dreams

    But dreams are the things like the phoenix-
    They can rise from the ashes-
    And those who really believe in them-
    Can use them to fly.

  5. Horizon

    Where water and sky meet,
    That is where I desire to be.
    A simple medium between two blues,
    I will be able to find tranquility.

    The busy landscape finds a line
    That nothing- I mean nothing- can disturb.
    Not a change in weather, time, or place
    Can cause this to perturb.

    One can find this line of peace
    If only they choose to see,
    The greatness of confusion,
    Or what is meant to be.

    -Jillian M. Period 1

  6. Some what based off "I'm Nobody! Who Are You?"
    I am everyone! You are also me
    We are one in the same - part of me is part of you
    We make a parallel running the same ways

    How dreary it is to be you - only part of me
    Only one dimension - but I am three
    Your name so silent, mine so obnoxious
    I admire you, you're part of me
    Abby A
    Period 5

  7. I heard my girlfriend - Then I Died
    I heard my girl - then I died -
    The cringe on my face
    is something you couldn’t buy -
    Even if you went to space -

    The girl I’m around - had killed me so -
    Why is she in my room
    She wanted to kill me slow -
    She thought I was going to be her groom -

    I laughed - But signed my life away
    At least what portion of me be left

    Jake J

  8. I hope everyone is entertained by how awful this poem is. Please enjoy this poem that I call "Flowers"

    Why do flowers mean so much
    to a significant other
    flowers- will die
    but doesn't love last forever

    They blossom - and grow
    like love alone
    but the petals - they warp
    and death is inevitable

    Perennials - they come back
    proving that love
    exists temporarily

    we assume - that flowers symbolize life
    but what we fail to recognize
    that in the end
    our flowers- and our love - will die

    Erika M. Period 5

  9. In the last blink of an eye,
    the world around me spins
    like a -ballerina- on stage

    It gets blurry -
    yet all crystal clear.
    As her eyes weakened
    the voices became louder.

    As the audience applaud faded,
    the buzz became stronger-
    She was blinded
    but still saw a small creature.

    An existence in nature-
    without a purpose.
    She twirled and twirled
    until the buzz was no more.
    - Shradha P1

  10. Why Are We Here

    Why are we here
    That is the question
    When….How do we go
    Could be another

    One will be answered
    in time...sometime
    The other we hope
    ...But probably not
    Tyler Rubino

  11. I saw a bird,
    fly into the air-
    It flew away,
    I knew not where-

    But now I wait,
    for my bird to come back-
    So I watch the sky-

    And when it comes back,
    I will be here for it-
    Me and my bird-

  12. The world may go blind
    its eyes-lost to the universe
    with every breath lost to the void-

    but-I will still see-
    I will still see through the smoke
    -of a world blind

    or maybe-i'll go blind too
    losing my eyes like the world will-
    dissolving into the black

  13. Who Am I

    Who Am I
    I perceive but I do not experience
    I recall but I do not think
    I respire but I do not breathe
    I exist but I do not live
    So I ask again.
    Who am I?

    I am nothing
    Just the darkness
    Always there but never present

    If you judge by appearance
    I will most likely not be a friend
    It would not be a first
    Not making friends isn't my worst....

  14. Poem inspired by Emily Dickinson's "A Book"

    There is no distraction like a friend
    To eliminate our fears
    Or take us somewhere new,
    And, who tries to stop the tears.
    To jump into a new experience
    Subtract our problems
    Forget the world
    And stops all the bad that comes.

    Alyssa S

  15. we talk a lot-about nothing?
    Is it an abstract concept-
    it's not tangible-
    how can anything be nothing?

    "what to do today?'-"something"
    "what happened today?'-"nothing"
    "what do we want?"-"everything."

    the nothing is what consumes
    the nothing prevails-
    and yet we are content
    with the everpresent lack
    of something substantial.

    fed to us since day one
    what happens when we stray?
    do we know?
    can we know?

    same old, same old.
    i ate a sandwich today
    i went to sleep last night
    i saw the same faces- as before

    the flowers bloom-and
    the flowers die
    i see your face
    and all at once

    that nothing, it becomes
    something and the something-
    well-that something just becomes-

    By Cleo Kyriakides, P5

  16. Life is made up of moments,
    some infinite, and some so short.
    As we grow old, we lose a few,
    and some begin to distort.
    Others hold to our brains,
    like the moon holds to the earth
    We remember the moment our lives start to turn,
    but rarely, remember our birth.
    Often, they teach us a lesson,
    Shape who we will become.
    I fear the day I loose my mind,
    as my memories, will start to run.

  17. I'm nobody! Who are you?
    Are you- Nobody- too?

    How dreary it is- to be- Somebody
    How public- how oppressive-
    An imperial affliction
    That perches in the soul

    What portion of me be
    blue- uncertain- stumbling buzz
    between the heaves of storm
    the stillness in the room

    Beneath the feathers-
    the sweetest Gale is heard
    the chillest in the land-
    the strangest in the sea

    When it goes, 'tis like the distance
    a certain slant of light-
    but no internal difference

    Raissi B
    period 5

  18. Everything dies- as night falls
    the darkness- an overwhelming blanket
    over ones eye
    then does everything live- as day rises
    as the blanket is torn from ones eyes
    as the light shines
    as the eye becomes- blind
    when is the eye not blind- not blocked
    by the light
    -Owen Boyle

  19. School- not liked by many teens-
    Stress, nerves, pressure, and work-
    All things that it consists of.
    Some will get the hang of it- others not so much-
    Those who do it best- usually go the furthest.
    So get the hang of it- for your life is in those hands.


  20. Silence in a crowded room

    Where no one is heard,
    But everyone is present

    Is there a need for talking?
    Perhaps the best course of action is no action
    Shut lips, closed eyes

    A shadow in the room
    Just as if no one was there

    Tom S P1

  21. We all stand by a lake
    the lake of our hearts - one could call it.
    We stand by our hearts through storm and heat - through snow and rain. We weigh down our hearts with stones thrown onto our surfaces, hiding our reflections - our thoughts.
    We stand and wait - wait for the calm to return to the surface
    to hide all signs of the broken past
    conceal the weariness of carrying all the weight.
    Though sometimes, the heaviest thing to carry
    is not the stones - coupled with our weariness and fatigue,
    but the lake itself.
    Shannon Hallroan (P5)

  22. "Grace" is the thing with fins

    "Grace" is the thing with fins-
    That glides across the water-
    And dances between the waves-
    The most elegant thing- I thought of-

    And the calmest-
    And the fastest-
    That out-swims all the others-
    That could never come in last-

    Even in the roughest seas-
    And in the choppy waves-
    The swirling and twirling-
    Grace greater than a dove's.

    Katey Yale
    Period 5

  23. "Love" is the thing with arms-
    That wraps them oh so tightly-
    And nurtures those within-
    The most aspired thing-

    And the sweetest-
    And the most romantic-
    That outweighs the rest-
    That all aim to reach-

    I've seen it once before-
    In a small city across the bay-
    I aspire to feel the same-
    Just as those people did that day-

    Sam Coleman Period 1

  24. I don’t know this stop.
    This transition—this unblinking blankness
    Of repeating a single word in your mind without
    Ever digesting it.
    Because you’re full of everything – steam-
    And no place to go.
    You were jittery just before this stop.
    But not now.
    Now you’re like clay
    You have to move more slowly
    Or you will break.
    Pliable between wettings only, which is exhausting
    And you know just as soon as you’re fired
    You’ll be impenetrable
    Or shatter.
    Just get it over with.
    Isn’t satisfied yet.
    Pinching away
    You don’t know if you will be beautiful
    Or salvageable
    Amanda D.

  25. Seeing the faint, faded picture-
    Of the street outside my house-
    Where the summer full trees casting shadows on the hot pavement
    radiating heat-
    and the tossing warm waters with tiny, salty colorful sails-
    And the lukewarm breeze strolled through my hair
    I don't feel it-

    The scorching pavement on my sand dusted feet-
    The cat lounging lazily in the shade across the street-
    The loving shouts coming from the beach-
    I don't feel that warm sun now-

    As winter rages outside, angry ice biting at my window-
    Cold and uncomfortable- drawing heat from no faded photo
    I only took it to capture that day
    Bottle it- Relive it- Open the picture and know again-
    I tried to hold a feeling in my hands

    But now, it is just a picture of a street

  26. "Love" is the thing that's sweet-
    That follows us all-
    and which we carry in our heart-beat-
    as we feel it's faint call-

    A rhyme that never misses-
    I've heard it in the chillest land-
    but I felt other emotions of the abyss-
    Stronger, diluting, and reducing the hand-
    which is love

    We find comfort in things that are strange-
    Rejecting the constancy-the love that is light'
    Seeking for a change
    Will we do what is right?-

    Period 1

  27. Morning! Like an empty Window
    No breeze today-
    Odysseus would not make it home this
    Morning- the dawns that undo me
    The here is now, and morning- wake up!
    But a dream, like Calypso on her island
    Could- keep me here, but the Wind
    Lifts papers on the desk!
    He is coming home after all

    Period 5