Tag Archives: poems


why did i do it. why did i stay for so long. i was hurt and broken and angry. and i knew it. i knew he was the reason i hurt myself. i felt guilt and shame and disgust with my own body because of what happened, even though he had forced me to do it against my tears, and head-shakes, and soft “i don’t want to”s. i tarnished my own skin in an effort to purge myself of that shame and disgust. it did not work. he saw the scars and, first, didn’t ask how i was, like he used to in the beginning; he just expressed surprise that i would wear something that would show it; wasn’t i afraid?. i said no, and i was meek as always, but internally i glared. i was angry at him. he was the reason i did this. and i knew it. but still, i stayed. why did i do it? is there an answer? i’m the only one who could know the answer to such a question, but i don’t seem to have a clue.


A Tale of Two People

this is a poem I wrote some time ago for TPS English 3, and because I’m in the mood to post something random, I’m posting this. =P It’s actually very pathetic; keep in mind I wrote about one-and-a-half years ago.  And I’m not going to bother editing it in any way, so don’t judge the punctuation or anything.

Once in a land that was hilly

Lived a fellow who thought himself dandy

Folks considered him silly

Because he ate so much candy

And he often would sing ‘pick-a-dilly!’

Whenever the brandy was handy.


Not far away, in the same land

Ventured a girl who was buff

She hated to be still and be fanned

But people just thought she was rough

Said she: “You folks are so weak and so bland

But I know that I’m made of stern stuff.”


On a day that was real sweet and shady

The dandy decided to tease

He saw the brave girl and said: “Lady!

Just give me a kiss, if you please!”

She screeched: “I’ll punch you o’er to Haiti!

I’ll lop off your head, you big sleaze!”


He laughed a great “hee!” and laughed a great “ha!”

She scowled: “I’ll turn you to ice

And put you where you’ll never thaw.”

“Oh, gee,” mocked he, “that’s not very nice.”

“I’ll grind you like meat that is raw!”,

She quipped, with a look that would shrivel lice.


He had fair warning and did not heed

And that’s when she got out her mace

He was so scared that he started to plead,

“Now, keep that thing out of my face!”

The poor fellow shook like a reed

She paused: “Well, I might offer grace.”


She cleared her throat: “Say you’re sorry.”

At him, the girl stared with a glare:

“And don’t take it back on-the-morry!”

He nodded his head and ran like a hare

Then he took off in his Ferrari

And the girl rode away on her mare.

A Poem of Great Significance

I hath made a promise in times gone past

that I would make this blog to last,

that I would post as oft I could;

so I’m now doing as I  should.

I will not let my blog decay,

and idly watch it pass away

as I grow old and turn to dust

and my laptop hath begun to rust.

I’ll post poems and stories, both new and old,

but I must warn that it’s no written gold.

Perhaps sometimes I’ll share with you

a personal adventure too;

from detours in Yosemite,

to scary kids that make me flee;

from mission trips in Mexico,

to incidents in my favorite show–

yes, I’m sorry, but if I write,

the Doctor will often be in site!

It’s also likely that in my posts

mentions of Tolkien will come in hosts,

as well as many other things I adore,

for in this way I can always say more.

I’ve said my bit, so I’ll now cease

that you may enjoy your day in peace.

CW6- Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of The Black Pearl

wow, this was a hard assignment! Fun, but hard. i dedicate this one to my little sister; coming up with the initial idea is always the worst part for me, so i asked her to help me brainstorm. She hardly batted an eye before exclaiming, “Pirates of the Caribbean!” i knew at once that it was a keeper.


CW6- Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of The Black Pearl

Elizabeth Swann, a governor’s daughter, had a few secrets to hide

She stole a pirate’s medallion, about which she hastily lied

Then came the day when she found that it was no idle trinket

Turned out it would summon undead pirates if you would sink it

When Liz was abducted by Barbossa the captain,

Her lover, Will Turner, set out to find her again

He enlisted the assistance of Captain Jack Sparrow,

A pirate who’d been through many a scrape that was narrow

Captain Jack had a bullet that he had saved for ten years

It was meant for Barbossa, leader of Jack’s mutineers.

At Isla de Muerta, Barbossa was trying

To break his crew’s curse that kept them from dying

Thinking that Liz was the person they needed

They took a knife and her palm was bleeded

Her blood and her coin were dropped into the chest

Of Aztec gold coins; these medallions were the rest

Belonging to an ancient cursed set

If any man took one, for all days he would fret

He was destined to neither eat, love, nor die

To return it with blood was the only way to comply.

When that trick didn’t work, Barbossa was mad

But Will rescued his Liz before things got real bad

Barbossa’s persistence at first paid off when

He sunk their ship and captured them again

Jack, William, and Lizzy were in big trouble now

Will bartered for Liz to go free but forgot to say how

And so Jack and Elizabeth were unhappily set aside

On an island where they very well could have died

But Elizabeth cleverly burned all the rum

To signal a ship (Jack thought she was dumb).

Back at Isla de Muerta, Will’s life was at stake

An agreement to save him Liz had to make

She would marry the man her father approved of

Anything to save the life of her true love

Will’s life is saved while Jack spars with Barbossa

Both are now cursed so it gets grossa and grossa

Using his drop of blood and the coin that Jack throws,

Will breaks the curse; to the challenge he rose

With the curse broken, Barbossa is mortal as of old

Jack pulls the trigger and his foe feels the cold.

Back on dry land, one more problem awaits

After all, Jack is a pirate and the law clearly states

That pirates must be hung, however charming

But Willy and Lizzy find this alarming

So they create a diversion and save his life

But even then still, there’s a bit more strife

Liz must show her father she always should be

With the man that she loves; and he does agree

While the two share an—ich!—mushy minute,

Jack’s ship comes on by and soon he is in it.

At the helm of The Black Pearl, Jack sets out to sea

All the while singing, “A pirate’s life for me.”

J6- In the Shadow of the Bells

  Poetry and I have something of a love-hate relationship. I enjoy reading the poetic works of literary greats such as J.R.R. Tolkien, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Edgar Allan Poe, and Robert Louis Stevenson. Writing my own poems is also a pastime that I love and that provides a way for me to express emotion. The trouble comes when I read my own work; it doesn’t quite meet the expectations I’ve mentally set for myself. I may not have a gift for lining up words in the most appealing fashion, and my poetic endeavors might not quite measure up to the literary finesse of my favorite authors, but I can still relish the enrapturing art of said authors. Such as one of my favorites of Poe’s poems, The Bells.

I know it’s a long one, but bear with me.

The Bells

Hear the sledges with the bells –

Silver bells!

What a world of merriment their melody foretells!

How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,

In the icy air of night!

While the stars that oversprinkle

All the heavens seem to twinkle

With a crystalline delight;

Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells

From the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells –

From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

Hear the mellow wedding bells –

Golden bells!

What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!

Through the balmy air of night

How they ring out their delight!

From the molten-golden notes,

And all in tune,

What a liquid ditty floats

To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats

On the moon!

Oh, from out the sounding cells

What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!

How it swells!

How it dwells

On the Future! -how it tells

Of the rapture that impels

To the swinging and the ringing

Of the bells, bells, bells,

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells –

To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

Hear the loud alarum bells –

Brazen bells!

What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!

In the startled ear of night

How they scream out their affright!

Too much horrified to speak,

They can only shriek, shriek,

Out of tune,

In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,

In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,

Leaping higher, higher, higher,

With a desperate desire,

And a resolute endeavor

Now -now to sit or never,

By the side of the pale-faced moon.

Oh, the bells, bells, bells!

What a tale their terror tells

Of despair!

How they clang, and clash, and roar!

What a horror they outpour

On the bosom of the palpitating air!

Yet the ear it fully knows,

By the twanging

And the clanging,

How the danger ebbs and flows;

Yet the ear distinctly tells,

In the jangling

And the wrangling,

How the danger sinks and swells,

By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells –

Of the bells,

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells –

In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

Hear the tolling of the bells –

Iron bells!

What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!

In the silence of the night,

How we shiver with affright

At the melancholy menace of their tone!

For every sound that floats

From the rust within their throats

Is a groan.

And the people -ah, the people –

They that dwell up in the steeple,

All alone,

And who tolling, tolling, tolling,

In that muffled monotone,

Feel a glory in so rolling

On the human heart a stone –

They are neither man nor woman –

They are neither brute nor human –

They are Ghouls:

And their king it is who tolls;

And he rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls

A paean from the bells!

And his merry bosom swells

With the paean of the bells!

And he dances, and he yells;

Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the paean of the bells,

Of the bells –

Keeping time, time, time,

In a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the throbbing of the bells,

Of the bells, bells, bells –

To the sobbing of the bells;

Keeping time, time, time,

As he knells, knells, knells,

In a happy Runic rhyme,

To the rolling of the bells,

Of the bells, bells, bells –

To the tolling of the bells,

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,

Bells, bells, bells –

To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

If that failed to move you, then you indeed must have no heart. Poe, the master of manipulation, uses onomatopoeia, repetition, and beautifully flowing meter to mesmerize and captivate the audience.  Ok, so I don’t exactly rise to the standard set by such artists of words; but hey, a girl can dream, right?