SeanerBonner
New member
Hi, I am a fourteen year old eighth grader. Everybody says they love my poetry, and i don't like it very much. You decide. Heres a couple of my poems:
1st on is a personification:
Tree, bare, in the bitter cold of winter,
Lifeless, trapped by your own roots,
Just staring at the people walking by,
Helpless without the ability of speech,
Weighed down by the piles of snow resting on your feeble branches,
Poor, powerless, and vulnerable,
The wind pushes you down repeatedly,
But you spring back up every time,
Strong, and mighty,
Now supporting a great diversity of life,
Now standing with pride and a confidence like no other,
Now the passersby’s are gazing at you,
Abundant, reaching for the sky above
Tree, blooming in the springtime.
By Sean Michael
2nd is a descriptive poem on the masterpiece of A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte
Sunday Afternoon
A spot of shade
Where many are resting,
Listening to the sound of
Summer waves cresting.
Skirts, hats, umbrellas, and coats;
Along with canoes, islands, rafts
And boats.
Pops of color,
Many different in hue,
Coming together
Right in front of you.
So unique,
Jumbled in confusion
All come
To a final conclusion.
3rd is a sound poem on basketball
Sound Poem
“Thump Thump, Bump Bump,”
I hear as I dribble the ball.
“Here!” exclaimed my teammate,
but it was too late,
I had already made the call.
“ERRRRR!!” went the buzzer
as my whole team was watching in awe.
“Bum bum, bum bum,”
the sound of my heart beating so fast,
nervous, as everyone clearly saw.
“Bunk.” It hit the back board,
“clunk,” as it hit the rim.
All the fans thought it was over,
and things were appearing dim.
The ball just sat balanced on the rim,
and then slowly it rolled in.
“Ahhhhh,” the crowd shouted as they let out their cheers,
all of them so relieved;
now waiting for the next game to begin.
Finally, the poem in the style of a master poet, Edger A. Poe
A beautiful morning,
A gorgeous day,
Until it all
got chased away.
The roaring clouds rumbled in,
Along with it
came pouring rain,
Which brought to mind,
my years
of misery and pain.
The thunder like cries,
raindrop like tears,
stirred up in my mind,
my darkest fears.
The pitter pattering
of my weak heart,
identical to the sound of
the downpour on the roof above,
which forces me to envision
the sorrow of a long lost love.
P.S. rate them and tell me which one you like the best. THANKS!!!
1st on is a personification:
Tree, bare, in the bitter cold of winter,
Lifeless, trapped by your own roots,
Just staring at the people walking by,
Helpless without the ability of speech,
Weighed down by the piles of snow resting on your feeble branches,
Poor, powerless, and vulnerable,
The wind pushes you down repeatedly,
But you spring back up every time,
Strong, and mighty,
Now supporting a great diversity of life,
Now standing with pride and a confidence like no other,
Now the passersby’s are gazing at you,
Abundant, reaching for the sky above
Tree, blooming in the springtime.
By Sean Michael
2nd is a descriptive poem on the masterpiece of A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte
Sunday Afternoon
A spot of shade
Where many are resting,
Listening to the sound of
Summer waves cresting.
Skirts, hats, umbrellas, and coats;
Along with canoes, islands, rafts
And boats.
Pops of color,
Many different in hue,
Coming together
Right in front of you.
So unique,
Jumbled in confusion
All come
To a final conclusion.
3rd is a sound poem on basketball
Sound Poem
“Thump Thump, Bump Bump,”
I hear as I dribble the ball.
“Here!” exclaimed my teammate,
but it was too late,
I had already made the call.
“ERRRRR!!” went the buzzer
as my whole team was watching in awe.
“Bum bum, bum bum,”
the sound of my heart beating so fast,
nervous, as everyone clearly saw.
“Bunk.” It hit the back board,
“clunk,” as it hit the rim.
All the fans thought it was over,
and things were appearing dim.
The ball just sat balanced on the rim,
and then slowly it rolled in.
“Ahhhhh,” the crowd shouted as they let out their cheers,
all of them so relieved;
now waiting for the next game to begin.
Finally, the poem in the style of a master poet, Edger A. Poe
A beautiful morning,
A gorgeous day,
Until it all
got chased away.
The roaring clouds rumbled in,
Along with it
came pouring rain,
Which brought to mind,
my years
of misery and pain.
The thunder like cries,
raindrop like tears,
stirred up in my mind,
my darkest fears.
The pitter pattering
of my weak heart,
identical to the sound of
the downpour on the roof above,
which forces me to envision
the sorrow of a long lost love.
P.S. rate them and tell me which one you like the best. THANKS!!!