My Poems for the Magazine

Okay, Anna wants me to put some of my poems in the magazine, but I was'nt sure which ones to do. So here are my good ones and you can tell me which ones to put in.


The Leaf
Spiraling up from the ground,
Whisking all around,
A leaf blew,
This way and that,
And fell onto the fat
Marmalade colored Cat.

“Hello,” the leaf said.
“Why are you lying on your bed?
Why do you not run,
And let the wind pick you up.
It is quite fun,
I assure you that.”

“Oh, I would if I could,”
Said the cat,
“But the wind should,
Pass me by.
For I am too heavy.”

“Tis a pity,” said the leaf
“For off I go again. Goodbye!”
“Goodbye,” the cat said with a sigh.
Up went the little leaf,
Off he flew,
And might have even landed on you!



I sit here writing poems,
Short ones.
It is like catching moments,
Pinning them down,
Putting them into words.
My mind wanders,
Dancing among the leaves of fall
Painting flowers pink and yellow in my mind.
I think of something to write about,
And start scribbling furiously on the page.



Questions
Experimenting with words,
I try out new styles.
Extraordinary explanations whiz through my head,
As I think of the impossibilities of life.

To me, those are questions like,
Why do humans walk?
Why do people insist on eating meat,
Not staying vegetarians?

I have wondered about these things,
Even when I was a child.
Now I am grown up,
And I still cannot answer them.



Shards
In the gurgling of the stream,
I hear the chorus of tiny voices.
Little fairies ride on the waves,
Using bubbles as cushions.
The fairies homes are deep within
The sandy surface of the bottom.
They play and laugh,
As if there was nothing
In the world but them.
They ride on fishes backs,
And swim as easily as walking.
They comb each other’s silky
Black hair with shells.
The bravest of them delightfully
Play tricks on each other.
They have a life of their own,
A life without pain or suffering.
Our life is nothing like that.
If only it could be so
Harmless and carefree.
At least there are shards of it.



Tales Untold
Through lessons long
And tales untold,
I see the beauty
Swamps can hold.

When my feet
Gives way to sand,
I do not fear
But go to land.

To give respect
I have learned
And in the swamp
It is returned.

For there is beauty
Deep inside,
In the trees
And in the slides.

After lessons long
And tales untold,
I can see the beauty
Swamps do hold.



My Grandmothers Bedspread
My Grandmothers Bedspread,
Seemed to go on for a mile.
I used to go to her house,
Just to look at it for a while.

It had butterflies all over it,
A blue sky that shone,
It was such a pretty scene,
I couldn’t believe it was sewn.

It covered her bed,
Twice folded over,
And her bed was HUGE!
Half as big as my room in Dover!

So my grandmothers bedspread,
Was a wonder sure to be,
But more wonderful then that,
Was that she gave it to me!



Trains
Trains are curious things.
They are mighty and bold
And steam and puff,
But it is the noise that
Marks the occasion.
And when the cars are
Out of sight and view,
The air rushes by
As if pulling invisible cars,
Or the memories of trains long gone.
And the noise continues on.



Arms spread wide like wings
My feet barely touch the ground
As I fly across the green green grass.

Squirrels play with falling leaves
Newborns squeal with delight
As I fly across the green green grass.

‘Don’t fall!’ Advises a rusty old crow.
As if I would!

The wind ripples, the wind sighs
The trees whisper and sing
As I fly across the green green grass.



Memories are powerful things.
They spring from the mind,
Taking shape into words
You never even knew were there.

Imagination is strong,
But doesn’t hold the same bond,
The same connection,
To your heart.

I stories I don’t like the expression
‘Write what you know about.’
But in poems,
It works perfectly.

How can this be?
Did the words change?
Or did I change?



One Starry Night
The night is dark and cold,
No early light doth shine,
Far above the stars look old,
In their wondrous design.

All at once I saw a light,
Burning in the sky,
Its radiance goes far into the night,
And I wonder why.

How came this magnificent art,
This beautiful canopy,
If all of us would take a part,
Everyone would see.

Only one could manage it,
All other would be a fraud,
This night so purely lit,
Can only be made by God.



My pins just popped
My skirts too big
Its falling down my waist,
It must be stopped
But what to do?
I am very misplaced.

I'm so ashamed
Gotta admit
I dropped it on the floor,
Hope I'm not famed
For yes indeed
Don't have a skirt no more.


Fall Thoughts
Butterfly, wafting on the wind.
Leaf, drifting drifting.
Both so beautiful
Beautuy beyond beleif.
Are they one?
Are they the same?
One so full of life
One so full of hope
For good things to come.
Then the breeze dies,
And they are gone.
There will be many more,
But will they ever be the same?
Only the wind will know.


Those are all my good poems. Hope you like them!
KrazyKelia