off to neverland | poems

The steam from the pot rolled heavy across the air.
He played with my hair, fair 
but not.
There is something about the way he holds me
tight, but not so.
I’m still cold.
I walk out onto the street, to meet
with him 
off to Neverland we go
or shall I think
right before my eyes everything flashes
Neverland turned into never-turning-back.
I stair into the abysses of this cold, empty space
It’s not what imaged to face
This whole thing,
 I created it in my head,
a fairy-tail, a happily-ever-after,

turned dead.

tumblr poetry

 English 202 //09

This past week, on my Tumblr blog, I made a post asking people to anonymously send me a subject and then I’d write them a poem about it. I got five request. I haven’t gotten around to writing the fifth one yet, but I though I’ll post the other four here. 
These poems were merely for practice, I feel as if sometimes I fall into a rut when I don’t try anything new for awhile, this was just a way for me to try something knew. It’s alway good to stretch out of your bounrdes a little bit and try a new endevor. Here’s what I came up with.


A poem about housesitting

Hard wood floors.
A dog sleeping,
an occational snore.
Pictures hanging 
by the blue back door.
It felt like home
not your own.
for somewhere to go,
for some place
to call your own.

A poem about my favorite color

The morning light,
faint streaks
of gold, blue, and pink.
The deep, dark murkiness
that is beneath 
the sea.
The hues that the leaves are
in the summer, fall,
and spring,
The changes in nature,
those, my dear,
are my favorite to see.

A poem about puns

I’m horrible at puns
you should know this by now.
So here you go:


make what you want of it.
You’re that kind of type.

A poem about hello kitty
There once was a kitty
who was truly very pretty.
She wore a red bow
that she liked to show
around the giant busy city.

If you’d like me to write you a poem about any subject, you can head over to my Tumblr blog and ask me an anonymous question or you could just reply here down in the comments. 

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



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
So quick and so sheen. 
If only they could live
to tell there story.