Earlier, James (3 yrs) was looking for his oldest sister, Laura, (who is on AP) :) and he found out she was at wal-mart, he was so upset that he cried :'( so I wrote this, enjoy :)
a cause to die for
so they say
we must make tomorrow
different from today.
revolution stirs their blood
revolution gives cause
to those who fight for better days
to those who only lust to kill.
revolution gives men purpose
a higher good to attend
if they die, they die for a purpose
if they live, they have a reason to live
revolution changes the world
or for worse.
Their Lord was dead; they’d laid Him in the tomb.
The Romans killed their head; now they waited for their doom.
What were they to do now that men had killed their Jesus?
With Him no longer here, who was there to save us?
They’d forgotten His words, what He’d said many times.
He foretold His death – and they’d doubted those lines.
He’d said the Son of Man, would be delivered over,
Be crucified by Gentiles – its truth now made them sober.
Eerie mist blankets the road,
Golden sunlight bursting through
A forest draped in silv’ry gauze
Midst pre-dawn stillness and dew,
He is there, watching o’er us.
At sunrise sisters journey through the woods,
Blades of grass bend beneath their running tread,
They stop to gather flower and feather,
And watch the deer and her kin far ahead.
And He is there, before us.
Grey fog rises from the field of dreams,
Color streaks the sky beyond the hay
1. (This one I gave and dedicated to my beloved music teacher)
What is a poem?
As if it were song
This is a poem
Words set to meter
Words set to rhyme
At least one time
What is a poem?
A poem is a feeling
A poem is a thought
A poem is inexplicability
Put into words
4. (Inspired by a friend called Renee's definition)
Awake, my dear, awake
The morning you must take
You must fight the unknown fears
That have haunted all for years
As you lie there in bed
People tremble in dread
Only you can help
Beat pain like a whelp
You have lived your life in comfort
You must do what you were born for
So rise from you sleep
Let your sword cut deep
I know you dream deep dreams
Void of any screams
But you must hear terror today
As the wickedness you slay
I used to love to read
It went hand in hand with to write
I used to love to lose sleep
Reading books all through the night
But now I don’t read as much
Even though I should
I love the stories I encounter
I find them really good
I find myself hesitating
To read something written well
Because every time I read something masterful
A bit of jealousy in me swells
Shannon Hale invents names with ease
Meg Whalen Turner holds you prisoner
~the art of flying with broken wings~
choices made and words unspoken
falling from a broken sky
i never dreamed you'd be the one
who in the end would kill a part of me
you who made me so alive.
with gentle hands you helped me to unfold my fragile wings
you promised we could touch the sky, soaring on our dreams
I looked into your eyes
and knew you spoke the truth.
I stood a princess on the rock
my kingdom field stretched out below
you laugh rang out, your voice clear
this movie is something
i've seen before
i tell her to hide, but she opens the door.
an untimely fate,
nothing to say
we're all no ones and nothings
searching for someones and somethings
(so much for a happy ending)
my half-empty view is routine
while you insult the technicolor screen.
i sneak into another show,
while your still saying,"told you so...."
sticky floors and an encore
a horror picture at best
let's not forget who made this mess.