Elizabeth Culmer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
edenfalling) wrote2017-05-11 12:41 pm
edenfalling) wrote2017-05-11 12:41 pm
Entry tags:
[Poetry] terrible middle-school poems
You know what? I'm going to post the terrible poetry after all.
All spelling, capitalization, and punctuation faithfully reproduced (though you are missing half the effect of the purple ink and my weird handwriting). I have inserted line breaks between the poems for clarity, though the original text marks them only by a single blank line.
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Selected Poems I Wrote
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Dolphins' backs
arch curve and flash
as they twist and play 'tween the waves.
Swimming wild 'twixt rock and sky
they laugh at you and me.
-----
Unicorns dance and play
in cool, green vales
on rainbows arching 'cross the sky
and through laughing sun-struck waterfalls.
-----
Eagles soar on wild free breezes
Skimming cliffs and mountain ranges
Diving, wheeling, mounting, gliding
Climbing spirals ever upward
Toward the heart of sun and sky
-----
Silence is a mossy forest glade
Laughter is the sound of silver bells
Sorrow is the ocean's moan
Anger is a red explosion
Joy is a rainbow across the sky
Love is a dream you can't quite remember
Fear is a beast knawing at your inside
Hope is a butterfly in a coccoon
Longing is a wolf howling at the moon
-----
I wish I could ride the wind, especially tornados.
I wish I could fill that empty, longing feeling inside me.
I wish I was the ocean, wild, free, and eternally sorrowing.
I wish I was Antarctica, beautiful and merciless.
I wish that when I thought of death, my stomach wouldn't flip-flop.
I wish I was a wild animal, so I could hunt live prey.
I wish I could be acid rain, so I'd know what damage it does.
I wish that good books never ended, because I always wonder what happens afterwards.
I wish that the rainforests, with all their life, will be saved before it's too late.
I wish that myths were real, so I would read them; I'd live them.
-----
The wild horses race
Over the high, flat mesas
Always they run free
-----
Your loving grandaughter,
[Elizabeth Culmer]
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Now I kind of want to find twelve- or thirteen-year-old me, give her a hug, promise her she'll make it at least to age thirty-five without humanity blowing up the planet, and gently suggest that if she wants to keep on writing poetry, she might find the constraints of strict poetic forms a useful challenge. *wry*
All spelling, capitalization, and punctuation faithfully reproduced (though you are missing half the effect of the purple ink and my weird handwriting). I have inserted line breaks between the poems for clarity, though the original text marks them only by a single blank line.
---------------------------------------------
Selected Poems I Wrote
---------------------------------------------
Dolphins' backs
arch curve and flash
as they twist and play 'tween the waves.
Swimming wild 'twixt rock and sky
they laugh at you and me.
-----
Unicorns dance and play
in cool, green vales
on rainbows arching 'cross the sky
and through laughing sun-struck waterfalls.
-----
Eagles soar on wild free breezes
Skimming cliffs and mountain ranges
Diving, wheeling, mounting, gliding
Climbing spirals ever upward
Toward the heart of sun and sky
-----
Silence is a mossy forest glade
Laughter is the sound of silver bells
Sorrow is the ocean's moan
Anger is a red explosion
Joy is a rainbow across the sky
Love is a dream you can't quite remember
Fear is a beast knawing at your inside
Hope is a butterfly in a coccoon
Longing is a wolf howling at the moon
-----
I wish I could ride the wind, especially tornados.
I wish I could fill that empty, longing feeling inside me.
I wish I was the ocean, wild, free, and eternally sorrowing.
I wish I was Antarctica, beautiful and merciless.
I wish that when I thought of death, my stomach wouldn't flip-flop.
I wish I was a wild animal, so I could hunt live prey.
I wish I could be acid rain, so I'd know what damage it does.
I wish that good books never ended, because I always wonder what happens afterwards.
I wish that the rainforests, with all their life, will be saved before it's too late.
I wish that myths were real, so I would read them; I'd live them.
-----
The wild horses race
Over the high, flat mesas
Always they run free
-----
Your loving grandaughter,
[Elizabeth Culmer]
---------------------------------------------
Now I kind of want to find twelve- or thirteen-year-old me, give her a hug, promise her she'll make it at least to age thirty-five without humanity blowing up the planet, and gently suggest that if she wants to keep on writing poetry, she might find the constraints of strict poetic forms a useful challenge. *wry*