some poetry

English 202 // 07

// Listen //

I often create poems
when I least expect it.
In the car,
on the swing,
under the lamp post,
while working.

So many times
I have no paper,
no pen
no pad
no touch of vapor.

They’re there in my head
to and fro
out in a whisper
there they go.

Those poems
so raw and so clean,
float off in the air
never to be seen

Again. 

______________

I’m learning. 

Learning to care less  

about the  

seemingly important. 

And learning to care more 

about the 

seemingly less. 

______________

The wind billows through the tree
ripping off the leave,
shaking it’s seams.

The leaves, they fall
leaving the tree,
making their way down to the ground
waiting to be seen.

Yet humans stomp them
beneath their feet 
only to find that their beauty 
is unseen.

They’re life
gone.
So quick and so sheen. 
If only they could live
to tell there story.

2 Comments

  1. These poems are amazing! I connected with the im learning poem the most because I am also learning to care less about the things that are unimportant. It is quite a journey though. I also love the poem about how we stomp on leaves and they could not live to tell there stories. I can really hear your voice in this poem.

    Like

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