Senior Year

Day to day of senior year
Time to live without a fear
Stress and worry not allowed
We're the seniors-we are proud

Best examples, top of the chain
Almost done with all the strain
Homework, drama, almost done
On and on to something fun

On to dreams, discovery
Newer friends, and more to see
Independence, coming soon
Shining bright just like the moon

Glowing sphere of every night
Soon we'll all at once take flight
Yet there is so much to learn
Growing minds and hearts will burn

Yet until the end is near
Of our wild high school career
We must focus on all today
Learn and listen, hope and pray

So much new and so much old
All combined will soon unfold
Greater knowledge, happiness
As we learn, our lives will bless.

Background Story:
As a Senior in High School, I am terrified. I have no idea where I am going, what I am doing, or anything. Life is just plain scary. Yet as a senior in High School, I'm also supposed to be a lot of things. I'm supposed to be mature, an example. I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to be sometimes. I poured out all my uncertainties about being a senior into this poem. I'm clueless, unfortunately.

Mystery Chest

A simple chest with no design
Strongly cut on basic line
Painted, finished, simply nice
But yet a lock will there suffice

What may hide within this box?
Not many have a need of locks.
What secrets wait within to find?
Yet whose they be might not be kind

Secrets borne, where stands the key?
And when it's found, maybe we'll see
An owner of the secret box
Who cared enough for simple locks.

But what's inside might dare to know
Things of which no faces show.
Hidden love, maybe a crime
It might hold disgusting slime

No one knows what's in this chest
But some will look with fervent zest
To find what may be anything
Unknown to all, thus secrets bring

Should the contents stay unknown?
Truth might hurt when it is shown
The age of truth is yet unfound
Discovery might change the sound

No one knows what truths are there
So I think I'll make it fair
And leave the chest alone for now
For contents truth might hurt, but how?

Is it worth the risk to see?
I do not know, and soon maybe
I will not have this fear of truth
Courage unspent while in my youth

Background Story:
As I sat on my bed, staring at my jewelry chest, I started to wonder at the simple lock there. I am forever grateful that for a time, my jewelry chest had a simple lock that prevented searching hands, but now I look back at my jewelry chest and think about this poem. If it was an outsider, it could be anything in that chest. It could be old, covered in dust, with secrets inside that no one should know. It could be just the jewelry that there actually is. Looking at the various possibilities in my head, I had to write, so write I did!

Fred The Sign

I walked to a sign for a silly dare
Dancing and walking, without a care
I knocked on the sign, wondering why
My friends thought it funny, as I started with "Hi"
And so I kept talking, with laughs all around
For laughter was fun, a wonderful sound
I asked the sign questions, like what was it's name
Then suddenly jumped when my responses all came
The sign started speaking! It said it was Fred
A lonely young sign, or so the sign said
The laughter was gone, my friends ran away
I turned and I looked, then heard the sign say
"Will you not stay and talk with me more?
Though you're just one, and once there was four,"
And so I did stay, and talked with the sign
Next to the road, I sat for a time
Thoughtfully there, as the sun dimmed to dark
I thought of the day, and what was the mark?
Just what effect had it all had?
Thinking of this, I began to be sad
No one would care, or think this was true
Who could I tell? Could I even tell you?
Today had been good, completely, all new
Not the first thing to think I'd go through
But maybe that helped in making it good
I think that young Fred was gladly understood
And still I do go to the road with this sign
I talk with young Fred, on days that are fine
Always it's fun, and always I'll smile
I have a friend, to talk all the while.

Background Story:
I was very upset at my friends for having told me that I was writing too much depressed poetry, and I was determined to show them that I could write something that was not depressed. I tried for awhile to think of an idea of something silly, random, and fun that could not in any way be seen as "depressed". The idea of talking to a sign, like a stop sign, had been sitting in my head for about a week, but I could not get myself to pick up a pen and start writing. However, once I had started writing, there was no stopping. It almost felt as if I wasn't writing this poem, that it was writing itself. I was merely the conduit whereby words could be written on the paper. I came up with rhymes that fit, the words kept going, the story unfolding. This poem is one of my favorites ever because it feels so unreal.

Broken Glass

Broken shards, broken glass
Pain in life that will not pass
When in life we've fallen down
Who will come to lift our frown?
To lift us from our sorry state?
Such trials which come as if by fate
When we fall and skin our knee
Would you help? Or just stand free?
Would you lift us simply to stand?
A simple thing so high in demand
When we have fallen to the ground
We want help that we hope is found
But often for naught our hopes will be
Throughout all eternity
We do feel forgotten and lost
We have fallen, and now are tossed
Upon waves of stormy sea
Sea of life it seems to be
With all of life so sad and down
Won't you try to lift our frown?
All we ask for you to be
Is just a friend-oh can't you see?
The answer true it's always there
Though you feel all life's not fair
But with a friend you can conquer all!
Even when sometimes you fall
The broken glass within your soul
It will leave, to make you whole
Because true friends will heal your heart
And surely will never from you part
They'll be there to the very end
And when you fall-lift you up again

Background Story:
When I wrote this poem, I was originally frustrated at my friends for the latest argument they were in. They were best friends, and yet, they were fighting. Again. I didn't know what to do about it, and I was very upset about their silly argument. However, as I wrote this poem, I began to feel better about their argument. I felt at peace that the argument would soon be over, and that everything would work out. Somehow, this poem turned from a poem of frustration to a poem about how I knew that I could depend on my friends.

Season's Reasons

The winds and torrents of miraculous white
Shining bright in the dreary night
Full of fluff and slush, the snow
Marks the winter's pass and go

Rain dripping down from the sky
Marks that spring is coming by
Snow is melting, going away
Grass regrowing, here to stay

Sun is shining, bright in the day
Warm currents surrounding us, we play
Joy that comes when summer's here
We hold to it while warmth is near

Leaves are falling from the tree
Red, and gold, and brown we see
Autumn has come with winds and chills
But with it comes fun and thrills

The cycle repeats with snow and cold
Ending the year as it has of old
For opposites must ever be
So we can enjoy the good, the free

Background Story:
I have mixed feelings about winter. Winter is a beautiful season, yet it is so very cold. It is a season that I have written a lot about, however, because of it's great beauty and splendor. I was thinking about all the seasons as I wrote this poem, yet I felt a particular push to make it a cycle of the different seasons. I especially like the last two lines of the poem, because they hint at more than just the idea of winter as summer's opposite. It refers to more than just a single opposite, it makes me think of all opposition in life.

Making You You

Standing alone, you feel that you are
Experiences that may take you out far
Away from the world, to making you you
Helping you learn, to learn to be true

True to yourself, true to your life
Standing above trials and strife
Though you may feel that you are alone
Search, and you'll see how you've truly grown

Learn from mistakes, and you will be found
Unique as a person, both feet on the ground
Or even if not, in Heaven we'll see
A child of God, you are, just as we.

Background Story:
I was contemplating a quote, "No man is an island" when I wrote this poem. Originally, I wanted to write about how the quote was wrong. Somehow, the message that was written turned out entirely fifferent than my original intent. Instead, I found myself looking at a perfect message for the upcoming camp theme-Making You You. Just like the poem title ended up being.

Elephant in the Living Room

Look! There is an elephant!
It's in my living room!
Can you see the elephant?
Maybe you'll see it soon

That elephant is so big!
How can you even breathe?
It takes up so much space!
No air for you, I see

Oh what a silly elephant!
Dancing and playing around
Knocking into everyone
No space that can be found

How can't you see the elephant?
He's bigger every day!
Won't you ever mention him?
He is so loud-hear his bray

How can't you hear that elephant?
He is so loud-I can't hear
A single word you're saying
He's braying in my ear.

Will you not mention my elephant?
He's taking up all the space
I cannot seem to understand
Why the elephant's in this place

Won't you mention the elephant
That's in my living room?
If you'd simply mention him
He'd bray another tune

Maybe if you mention him
He will go away
Even though I'll miss him
I sure won't miss his bray

He might go to another room
To take up all their space
Maybe they might also wonder
Why he's in their place

But you know that elephant
He's in your living room
Identical to my very own
An elephant braying his tune

Don't be afraid to mention
The elephant, 'cause he's there
This one simple elephant
Will stay until you care

Background Story:
My friend Joel would often tell me about his elephant. It's in his living room, well in his entire house actually. It's a very nice elephant, and somehow, the rest of his family doesn't happen to notice that it's there. I would hear random braying noises on occasion when nothing else was being said. It was a good conversation starter, as I could then ask about his elephant. It became a joke, another way to play around. Yet it got me thinking, about the original phrase-an elephant in the living room. It seemed appropriate to write about this concept with the angle of the joke between me and my friend, then compare it to the original phrase.