Happiness

Here is a good poem that will definitely bring down the valentines day "mood".

Please forgive me, I just wrote it.

Happiness is a veil
That hides the truth behind it
The wallpaper
On the cracked and stained walls of reality

These walls foundations
Were built from the bodies of the truth
and the wallpaper
was built from you

The decieved
The decievers
The spinner
Of the lies themselves

In reality
You are the decieved
The decievers
And I am the deliverer
Of truth

Hi Everyone! It's me again!

Happy V-Day!!! Here's a little poem I came up with, um, right now. It's based on these emails I got, like, 10 billion times. Enjoy!

Note: It might not be good. Just saying.

There was a boy and a girl
Sitting side by side on a park bench.
The girl stared at the boy
And smiled when he looked back.
Finally, she asked,
"Am I pretty?"
And the boy replied,
"No."
The girl's smile did not falter
She asked again,
"Do I ever cross your mind?"
The boy replied,
"No."
The girl's smile disappeared
She asked once more,
"Do you like me? Will you cry if I leave?"
And the boy replied,
"Nope."
The girl
With tears down her face
Got up from the bench
And started to walk away
From the boy she loved.

Then she felt a hand
On her shoulder
And stopped.
She turned around
And the boy was there
Standing with his head hung low.
He brought her close
And whispered in her ear,
"You're not pretty,
You're beautiful.
You don't cross my mind
You're always on my mind.
I don't like you,
I love you.
And if you left me now,
I will not cry,
I would die."
Then he gave her a light kiss
On her cheek
On her single tear
And smiled.

~END~

Happy Valentine's Day Everyone!

Valetine's Day

A day of love and happiness.
A day to eat candy like Fun Dip.
Valentine's Day.
<3
Everyone's wearing red,
drawing hearts on their paper.
Valentine's Day.
<3
Giving out cards,
telling someone that you love them.
February 14th. Valentine's Day!
<3

Lonley

I wrote this poem in class when we had to look at those pictures. Again this is another sad poem. And no he did not shoot his wife.

He walked through the door and there he stood
He felt like no one was there but him and her
He held the thing that he had left
Which was the ring of her high school past
He remembers her laughter and her sadness
He can almost feel the madness
He feels like it is all his fault
Just because of a stupid shot
He wonders how he will sleep
He only has that ring to keep
He doesn't want to leave,
He just wants to stay
But he can't do anything because there she lay
He looked one last time before they took her
Now he walks with no one but her soul

Year Round Valentine

Haha I did this posted this one because its VALENTINES DAY..:)

I love you all through February,
Not just on Valentine’s Day;
I cherish you when flowers of spring
Appear in the midst of May.
I adore you in the summer,
When the air is filled with heat;
Without you in my life each day,I wouldn’t be complete.
I treasure you in fall,When leaves are turning gold;
I loved you when you were younger;I’ll love you when you’re old.
I prize you in the winter,When colder days are here;
I love you, love you all the time,Every minute of the year.
So I’ll give to you this Valentine,But I want to let you know,
It’s not just today, but always,That I will love you so.

By Joanna Fuchs

Family

Family
© Shayla S. Randolph
When monsters lurked beneath my bed, And scary dreams ran through my head, When thunder growled those sounds I dread, There you were, My father. When scuffed up knees made me cry, Soft hankies wiped my sad eyes dry, Coaxing me each time I tried, You were always there, My mother. Who held my hand when I was scared? Ate candy that he should have shared, The things I did because you dared, My brother. In times of trouble, times of need, I feel such strength surrounding me, Without whose love I can’t succeed, I love you all my family

The dream

The dream in which the angels came

The dream in which the angels sang

The dream that evry night's the same

The dream in which the bells go bang

The Dream

The dream in which the kittens play

The dream in which the sun would shine

The dream in which the birds, they stay

The dream in which there is no line

The Dream

The dream in which the grass would grow

The dream in which I always go

The dream in which my feelings show

The dream in which I always heal

The Dream

I am

I am a girl with eyes like diamonds
As sweet as chocolate
I am sarcastic most of the time
And I definitely hate the green fruit called lime
I am courteous to all
I help people up every time they fall
I am always respectful
I am also oh so very social
I am Rachel Ray
I love to play
I am a monkey
weird and crazy
also sometimes serious and sometimes lazy
I am as warm as a fire
and I would hate to be a liar
I am unique in my own ways
I love to eat lays
I am a student at Crestdale Middle School
I am like winter, always cool
I love the beach in every way
I wish I could go there w=every single day
I can be soft a cloud
and also as hard as a rock
I am as graceful as a feather falling to the ground
and when it's peaceful
I love to make sound
I am a concert, ready to rock out
I love to scream and also shout
I am the author of my own life story
and even though people call me a shorty,
I try to picture myself as tall as a tower
And when I get mad, I'm like a bomb waiting for go off,
I am Rachel Udelson


And yes I wrote this by myself

He

This is a poem that Branda Kissinger wrote and I thought that it is really sad.

He closed the door
he paused to stand
As he took the class ring
from his hand.
All who were watching
couldn't speak
As a single tear drop rolled
down his cheek
Memories of momments when they had fun
As they laughed away
in the sun.
Remembering that he
had hurt her
He could not see her
deep brown eyes,that turned
so cold
He could have her no more
in his arms to hold
He whispered "I love you"
as he bent near
But the words were spoken
too softly for anyone
to hear.
On her finger
he placed his class ring
and hoped of forgiveness
it would bring
He held her hand
and gave her a kiss
That special girl he'd
sure to miss
They opened the door
his head hung low
As they carried her casket
away in the snow

Music

Music is my life
Music is my laughter that makes me cry
Music is the thing that changed my life
Music is my happiness I always feel in side
Music is my every thing
When you are down let music turn you around
What ever you are feeling let music take it over
Turn the music up real loud and jest scream it all out
Let the pain run write through you
Let the tears undue you
Do nothing more but sing your soul out
And tell everyone what you are about! ! !
Music is my life
Music is my laughter that makes me cry
Music is the thing that changed my life
Music is my happiness I always feel in side
Music is my every thing
Tell every one what you are all about
Let no one tell you ….
You can not live your dreams
If you want to sing, sing, sing the music
You like while you tell them what you are all about!

school just school

School we need it
school, friends
school you have teachers
school is great
high school is even better
college, PARITES
school you might find your true love
new experiences everyday
school, dances
school just school
school who does not love it
school is fun
school, preps
school, classes
school, math, science, computer classes
school is great love it
school just school
we need school

I Am

I am different,
Alike in many ways,
But not quite,
I am bright,
But in the dark,
An owl,
Unseen but see all,
I am a night dweller,
Nocturnal,
Hating the morning light,
Hating what it will bring,
I am a guardian,
Protecting myself from prying eyes,
And under layers of skin,
I guard a beating heart.

I like how alien.....

oops! I just put out a blog that says,"I like how alien...." So sorry, I clicked enter instead of using the mouse. oops. sorry. I am only a beginner!! So here's what I have to say about alien:

I like how you use the poem "highway man". I really enjoyed reading it in class, and now I can enjoy reading it at home, every time I come to this website. I especially like stanza number 13. That is because that's the one I did for the Language Arts Highway Man "project"

I like how alien.....

I am by: VincentL

I am someone who likes to work hard on things I enjoy doing.

I like to bounce around like a ball when I'm with my friends, and because of that they call me a spazz, a nerd, and a freak but when I'm at school I'm a brick wall.

I'm pretty good with computers and Japanese related things but people bug me like a fly in my ear.

When it comes to uncommon things I am the master and if you knew how I lived you would know why and you might even think I was a nut!

My imagination is like a wheel just keeps turning and turning but sometimes it hits a rock and I become someone else.

I like to be around bodies water, I don't know why but it is very relaxing and when I feel it, it's like holding a fragile life it my hand and it makes me feel like a little kid, I want to jump in it.

I think it's fun to collect random things. It gives me the feeling of power, like I'm the queen of whatever.

When it comes to my family I'm a lock on a steel door so when I'm around people it's hard to talk about. Until my friends came and broke me off and accepted me, took my pain away. I'm just Kriss.

The Invitation
by Oriah

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

I CALL SECOND!!!

I will now post the second poem simply because I have nothing else better to do. Wait, I have the highwayman homework to color...oh well.

Just a warning, this poem isn't very good...

Please don't read this poem
I swear, you're just wasting time.
Please don't read this poem
Its not in its prime!

Please don't read this poem
I'm trying to warn you,
Of the pains and the darkness in this poem
That I don't know what in your head they would do!

Please don't read this poem
I beg of you over and over again.
Please don't read this poem
If you do you'll go insane.

And look, you're STILL reading this poem
This blasted no good poem!
What's so good about this poem
That's making you read this simple poem?

That's it, I'll stop,
Then you'll have to stop too.
So good day and good night,
To you.

~END~

Ok, now let's see who's third...

The Highwayman

by Alfred Noyes

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
               Riding-riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

                              
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
               His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

                              
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
               Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

                              
And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
               The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-

                              
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
               Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

                              
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
               (Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.

                              
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gipsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching-
               Marching-marching-
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

                              
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
               And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.

                              
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
               She heard the dead man say-
Look for me by moonlight;
               Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

                              
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like
years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
               Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

                              
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
               Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain.

                              
     Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs
ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did
not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
               Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still!

                              
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night
!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
               Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him-with her death.

                              
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
               The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

                              
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
               Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

       *       *       *       *       *       *

                              
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding-
               Riding-riding-
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

                             
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
               Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

My favorite Tim Burton poem!!!!! <3

¤ Vincent Malloy is seven years old He's polite and always does as he's told For a boy his age, he's considerate and nice But he wants to be just like Vincent Price He doesn't mind living with his sister, dog, and catsThough he'd rather share a home with spiders and batsThere he could reflect on the horrors he has invented and wander dark hallways alone and tormented Vincent is nice when his aunt comes to see him But imagines dipping her in wax for his wax museum He likes to experiment on his dog Abocrombie In the hopes of creating a horrible zombie So that he and his horrible zombie dog could go searching for victims in the London fog His thoughts aren't only of ghoulish crime He likes to paint and read to pass some of the timeWhile other kids read books like "Go Jane Go"Vincent's favorite author is Edgar Allen Poe. One night while reading a gruesome tale he read a passage that made him turn pale Such horrible news he could not survive For his beautiful wife had been buried alive He dug out her grave to make sure she was deadUnaware that her grave was his mother's flower bedHis mother sent Vincent off to his room He knew he'd been banished to the tower of doomwhere he was sentenced to spend the rest of his lifealone with the portrait of his beautiful wife. While alone and insane incased in his doom Vincent's mother burst suddenly into the room She said, "If you want, you can go out and playIt's sunny outside and a beautiful day." Vincent tried to talk but he just couldn't speak the years of isolation had made him quite weakSo he took out some paper and scrawled with a pen:"I'm possessed by this house and can never leave it again." His mother said, "You are NOT possessed and you are NOT almost dead These games you play are all in your head You are NOT Vincent Price, you're Vincent MalloyYou're not tormented or insane, you're just a young boyYou're seven years old, and you are my son I want you to get outside and have some real fun." Her anger now spent, she walked out through the hallWhile Vincent backed slowly against the wall The room started to sway, to shiver and creak His horrored insanity had reached its peak He saw Abocrombie, his zombie slave and heard his wife call from beyond the grave She spoke through her coffin and made ghoulish demands While through cracking walls reached skeleton handsEvery horror in his life that had crept through his dreamsswept his mad laughter to terrified screams To escape the badness, he reached for the door but fell limp and lifeless down on the floor His voice was soft and very slow As he quoted "The Raven" by Edgar Allen Poe: "And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted...Nevermore." ¤
~Tim Burton

You Know Me But You Don't

* I'm posting first so no one else has to do it. You're welcome. :-)

The ready smile that lights a room
to expel your darkness
The extended hand, always available
to help when you fall
The kind words that flow so easily
to ease your pain

You see these parts of me

Never a complaint from my lips to your ears
Never hesitation to dry wayward tears
Never unsure how to comfort, calm your fears

You know only what I choose to show

Because how could I expose to you
the truth of who I am
Your solid rock is not so strong
I'm feeble to my core
And long sometimes to lay out bare
the burdens that weigh my steps...

...the bitter tears my smile will hide
...the tremor beneath my steady hand
...the sadness in my cheerful words

Still for now, I keep myself concealed

You see what I show, what I wish I could be
But you don't know me

*And no, this is not something I wrote about myself.