“If everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you?”

I’d look beyond the edge with careful eye

I’d ponder over distance, speed, and say,

“‘Tis dangerous, so much could go awry.

“The physics are against you every way.”

 

You see those safe and placid waters ‘neath

The silver construct tempting in it’s height

But why? When jagged rocks that look like teeth

Hide there, with hungry fish that eye your plight.

 

A fear comes over me with chilly hand

I am alone, they all are falling free

They’ve gone, and now I think I understand

What prompted them to jump and not foresee.

 

Forgive me, friends, as I approach the ledge

The last I think is of a steely dredge.

 

 

 

Awake At Night

I was a child and looked at my wall

In my covers, slightly chilled

Lights flickered across my wall

People driving by, their lights

Engines going by at night

I wondered where they were going

And if they knew I was watching

Awake with only those lights

 

Now I’m a child again

Cocooned in blankets, quiet

Watching the wall pattern of light

Watching the flashing headlight’s dance

Where are they going?

Awake and alone with the flickering lights

Me Time

Alone, precious moments

Loud music blaring

Or quiet pencils scratching

Paper ripping, tearing

Bright little table lamp

Presiding over stuff

Doodles and verses

Some pretty, some rough

Sweet, calm moments

Invigorating solitude

Wish it could be forever

No stupid people with attitude

If looks could kill

Many would be dead

Breaching my sanctuary

But my anger must go unsaid

An Untitled Poem Written Out of Childish Frustration

Sharp, angry scratches in the ground

Mark a field within asunder

Harshly turned away from what I sought for

Pursued down empty corridors

My broken dreams

Beneath my feet the ground is bright

Garish with the blood of spilled hopes

Dark with remembrances

Wanting to be denied

To be a dream, a wandering thought

Unwholesome but untrue

Chicken scratches in the soil

They show my words’ veracity

There’s nothing but pain to look around

These cracked walls enclose

My truly broken dreams

My prison, yet sanctuary all the same

I don’t know what is, without this

Constant shattering around me

I don’t believe I’d trust or believe

Any hopes that tempt my sights

And so I blindly, recklessly fly

My feet dragging the future’s sand

Towards a nonexistent end

Somewhere in this barren maze

That is my scrambled psyche

The only place I belong

As any who see would know

Because liars can’t abide here

Lies don’t stick to mistrust

Appeasement to stubborn malcontent

These spaces in walls

Meandering corridors

They are unrest, insatiable

Unusable wrath and panic

Formed, lying words are no use here

Overlain or washed away

By a repulsive truth, these marks

Forever cut into the earth

A Few Short Poems Too Small to Merit Posts of Their Own

My heart is wretched around

I’ve not a breath left to call my own

Upon my face is a long dark frown

From my heart rings a mournful tone

What is there to do with love

When nothing come of it but whispering lies

I foolishly covet

There’s nothing here for me now

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Last torch to light my way

I shall surrender, there is no hope

There’s only darkened dreams that numb

Cauterize this wound

With the touch of ash

I’ve no need to watch my flame die

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Passing memories

Nothing to cry over

They were never there

A flash and they are gone

No reason to weep

This shudder is the cold

These silver drops

Need not have been birthed

There is nothing to cry for

When all’s been left

To dry and crumble

And be brushed away

Only scattered dust

The Math Contest

Today I’m a very happy girl. I found out that I’ve placed first in the district in a math contest I took part in in May! It feels pretty good, even if it seems to me I did more guessing than answering.

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The clock is ticking

Each click measures a space of time

The wheels in my head are frantically clicking

A pattern of numbers and shapes fly around inside

 

I have time and space

But still my mind’s rushing

This is a fault I can’t erase

I’m stressed and fretting too much

 

I can’t catch every mistake I make

I think it’s literally impossible

But I need to try before I can break

I certainly can’t give up now

 

I’ve used two sides of blank white paper

Covered with pictures to help me think

It’s a drawing board, a thought shaper

It leads me to difficult answers

 

I labor on, the end closer than before

Steadfast though my mind is weary

I can see the distant, but closing shore

Not easily judged, but there still

 

My pencil’s set upon the sheet

A letter displays my unrestrained intellect

Answer after answer my lead eats

Though at a drudging, stuttering speed

 

Have I the courage to hand in my work?

To understand if I don’t succeed?

Or will it drive me completely berserk

To sit aside, unrecognized?

 

But of course I’ll finish this

I’m nearly done, so very close

I’ll set down my pencil, be dismissed

Go back to life and irritably wait

 

If my name is ever proudly called

As the best of the best, to be admired

I wonder what will be recalled

Will the discomfort be more fondly remembered?

 

 

Running

This bending, stretching, winding country road

I’ve run it twenty thousand times or more

Sun-warmed, snow-veiled, it’s born my constant load

Of joys and worries, it’s all been before.

Gel heels, gel toes, my arch from asphalt lifts

In-in, out-out, my breath is regular

From this routine I hope to never drift

Or lose this sense of deeper metaphor.

Sometimes I like to run a different road

Though similar, there’s always more to see

I’ve loved each grimy path that I’ve bestrode

Though hot and sore, as many’d never be.

I feel a burn in calf and knee and thigh

But I must run… without this I would die.

Anger

Running through my limbs is a bone-deep quiver

A rage unspent lies in anxious wait

Just give me a chance to voice this shiver

With my fists, of course.

What wrong has been done to me?

What crime has broken my maturing armour?

What happened? I don’t see

And yet I’m so aggravated.

I need a chance to calm myself

To think through a course, a plan

Or let my anger disperse itself

Though I think that’s called cowardice.

So far, so good, I’m still quite mad

I’m crazy, I’m sure, I think you’d agree

So I put this down on a writing pad

To give my mind a break.

But it’ll all be decided soon

I’ll chose to vent or bottle up

Tomorrow’s fateful afternoon

Am I still really angry?