Other Poems

Rainy Days
I like the rain.
I like the light showers
And the after rainbows.
I like the puddles that form
And the splash with every step.
The way it fogs up your window,
Turning it into a doodle pad.
I like the way the sunlight
Reflects every individual water droplet,
Making everything Glitter.

But I also hate the rain.
I hate the Darkness that comes,
Completely blocking out the light.
I hate the sudden downpours
And the Coldness that it brings
Chilling you to the core.
I hate the fickleness of the clouds,
To rain or not to rain.

The rain is a scary thing,
But still it is Beautiful.

So, I think I love the rain.
The way it smells.
The way it sounds.
The way it feels against my bare skin.
But most of all,
I love the way it runs down my face,
Mixing with my tears
And nobody can see me cry.

My Lovely Rosebush
My love for you is a Rosebush,
Beautiful and painful. 
My hands grip you softly
While blood trickles down my fingers. 
I can't let go,
Your thorns lodged in my skin,
In my heart. 

Your single white petal
Stands alone
Against the others,
Spared from the blood
Of the outside world. 
For this I am grateful. 
For this I am terrified. 

I fear the day
My own blood will drip 
From my outstretched arms
Staining
Your white petals
Red. 
The day I let you go. 

Butterflies and Roses
I am a butterfly,
Floating effortlessly upon the gentle summer breeze,
The wind carrying me to places untold.
I am a carefree butterfly.

I am a rose,
Rooted in one place.
My thorns prick those who defy me.
I am an arrogant rose.

I am a butterfly,
Intricate wings shimmering in the sunlight,
Illuminating all the colors of the rainbow.
I am a delicate butterfly.

I am a rose,
Beautiful and bold.
My petals are a deep blood red.
I am an intimidating rose.

I am a butterfly fluttering above a rose bush,
Its thorns offering a sense of protection.
I am a rose admiring the intricate wings of a butterfly,
Its presence radiating with a tranquil peace.

Adventure

This is the poem that explores
The vastness of this world,
That ventures into the mysteries of the Earth
Because with knowledge comes truth,
Because with experience comes opportunity.

And when fear begins to consume
Your very being,
Shaking you to your core,
This is the poem that will guide you
Through the darkest depths
To the light in the darkness
So you can continue to walk your path.

O, Pens!
As you smoothly glide across the paper,
Your black ink
Creates
Works of art on the blank page.
How you bring words to life!
Steadily, imagination flows from
Your fine tip
Onto the purest white sheet.

O, Pens!
What would we do
Without your constant
Clicking during classes?
Pens,
Companions to rely on,
Friends who always
Understand.
I can trust thee to
Record my deepest thoughts,
Thou heavenly instrument!
As ideas flow,
Your movements become rushed
As you swiftly
Put tip to paper

Leaving this once
Barren slate a
Magnificent
Masterpiece.