Tuesday, June 10, 2014

"The Bird" by Kyle Kenney- A Limerick

I went through the park
And sat down at a bench.
It was getting quite dark,
And the fog was quite dense.

A noise from above
Had caught my attention.
No, it wasn’t a dove,
And had unknown intention.

I looked up at it
And it looked at me.
It was a raven,
Sitting high in a tree.

“Raven,” I called,
But nothing happened.
The bird just stalled
And its gaze blackened.

The bird looked ill
And it’s body looked strained.

It just kept still,
Wondering what to blame.

With its eyes so cold
And its feathers so black.

Tightening its hold
So it doesn’t fall back.

The bird is done watching.
It closes its eyes
And relaxes its body,
As if ready to die.

The bird is done waiting.
The branch begins to break.
The bird is not so tough.
Its heart beginning to quake.

As it fell to the ground,
It sang hymns of death.
And with a sickening sound,
It released it’s final breath.

My stomach dropped.
I just stood there.
My heart had stopped.
Though it seemed I didn’t care.

-Time Skip-

Poe gives condolences,
Sharing his depression,
While its soul just dances,
Beginning the procession.

A funeral was held
And a turtle was there.
He came out of his shell
For a quick breath of air.

He paid greeting to Mr. Poe
With a smile of grief,
And let Mr. Poe know
The bird died with relief.

The turtle went on to explain
The bird’s life full of pain.
Mr. Poe wrote it down in his book,
And with every detail, he shook.

The elegy was elegant.
It was short and concise,
Though it had great meaning
And was really quite nice.

The pallbearers were sunflowers
And they carried the burden,
Walking under sunlight’s showers,
Which the bird managed to lure in.

They got in the hearse
And they started to drive.
Uttering words of curse
How the poor bird died.

They lowered it into the ground
And nobody made a sound,
But then they started to share
Why exactly they all were there.

The turtle and bird were friends.
Good friends.
Nice friends.
Best friends.

He knew the bird up and down.
He knew exactly what made the bird frown.
He’d make the bird smile with laughter.
Then they’d get a bite to eat right after.

The sunflowers were buds in college.
They were finally educated,
Though still gaining knowledge,
And this they really hated.

They had fun with the bird.
But when they heard
That the bird was dead,
They were truly, utterly filled with dread.

Then there was the hare,
But nobody knew it.
He pulled out a violin
And played happy music.

He decided to share
How the bird knew the hare,
But nobody seemed to care.
So why was he there?

The hare was old.
Much older than the bird.
And as we were told,
‘Twas the bird’s sadness he cured.

The bird was an orphan.
It’s parents had left it.
So the hare took it in,
But not as a guest.

The bird was raised
As a child of the hare.
Others thought it strange
To see this odd pair.

As the bird grew,
The hare did too.
And when the bird left,
The hare knew what to do.

The hare gave goodbyes.
The bird didn’t look back.
This made the hare cry,
And made his heart crack.

The bird had not noticed.
He was off to live life.
The bird thought he was noblest
And cared not for the hare’s strife.

The hare sat at home
Thinking about the bird.
Many years passed
Until the hare heard.

He couldn’t believe his ears.
He thought it absurd.
The hare broke down in tears
And couldn’t speak a word.

The turtle and Mr. Poe
And the guests who already know,
Listened to his story,
And dug an emotional quarry.

They just couldn’t comprehend
The hare’s pain with no end,
And the hare couldn’t mend
The pain without a friend.

They gathered around
And started to sing,
To the bird in the ground,
Who they treated as king.

No one did dare
To forget the story
Of the bird, and the hare,
And the emotional quarry.

"A Farewell to a Special Someone" by The Silent Writer

Because nothing will change.
But fine. You still give me butterflies. Talking to you makes my head all flustered and turns me into a babbling idiot. Seeing you still makes me happy, talking to you, where I stumbling along my words trying to get them across to you is sensational.

Sometimes though, I end up crying, I end up bawling my eyes out trying to figure out how to change the cruel reality, but I know it can't be. And all I do it sit there in the second bathroom stall of a school where too many people have abandoned me, crying. It hurts, even now, not seeing you. I still flash the memories. I remember the pain. Sorrow. Happiness. Love. And security. That we have been through in the past years we have known one another.

And that is all going to just disappear and end and nothing will be left. I'll fade away from your memory as I did with countless other who abandoned the school. I don't know what to do. Because I couldn't do anything. Nothing could have changed this. So I cry. So I sit in pain. Watching time tick by until the day you leave for a new life with old friends and a new start where the memories can fade away.

Sunday, May 4, 2014

"Sleeplessness" by Frankie Gototweski

Let for the rampaging machine to take over mind
For it’s grown more aware than you
In the passing of days you’ve slipped
Into a silhouette of a human.

Screaming sirens engulf the sky
With piercing music they create
Left to us now a lullaby
Cries of panic bring sweet sleep.

Reverberating in the backs of our minds
A past that we believe to have existed
But seamlessly remembrance passes with the dawn
Solitude is lost to us again.

Left to us now is a world created by your devices
Rivers of blood and fields of bodies
Till the end we were to fight our enemy
It’d been nice to know we ought to have fought you.

These tyrants rise and fall
Without their subjects realizing
That oppressed they have become
While believe they are free.

"Articulation? Let Me Catch My Breath" by Anonymous

How may I describe your worth to me?
It remains a mystery
For how do you value in gold and silver
That which is unmeasurable.

Oh! does joy spring from my heart
I feel as I’ve never before
Happiness overtaking me
In the wake of your smile.

How heavenly are your eyes that
Cross paths with mine
A blue crystalline glow they emit
And they shine bright on the darkest days.

Greatness sits among your brow
An uncovered trove of expanding knowledge
Blights quake in your sight
Leaving you unharmed by what plagues me.

I cannot thank you enough
For whether or not you know
Your presence in my life not only saved me
but gave me the chance to once again breathe.

As I once wandered
and felt like I was naught
Loneliness kept me up at night
Hoping only to be held tight.

Casting away from me emptiness
The warmth you engulfed me with
Thawing my once cold and bitter heart
Freeing me from the burdens of my past.

I’m not quite sure that I can
Properly articulate all you’ve come
To mean to me, but
I hope my heart pouring poem
Was written well enough
I thank you for existing
I thank you for wanting to enter
A broken man’s life

"Quiet Eyes" by Anapurl Feldman

He looked into her eyes
hoping to erect a bridge
between the islands
of her mind, and his,

made of amateur cut
panels and ropes unraveling,
where thoughts felt safe
in traveling
from her eyes to his.

Instead all he found,
upon staring into calm
iris waves,
was a sleepy translucent
in which ephemeral beings

-by Anapurl Feldman