poetry throw back.

( SIDE NOTE - I know ya'll probably get tired of the poetry that I put on here -
Some people really like poetry and some people hate it! But I happen to LOVE IT! So read if you want!)


Ever since I learned how to write poetry I've enjoyed it. Throughout middle school I would even attempt to write songs (which failed miserably) but poetry has always been something I loved to do! In 8th grade I was so proud of myself because I won my english class's poetry competition and then I continued doing it in my free time and eventually joined Lit Mag! So I went through some of my old poems and wanted to put a few on here! 


But I wrote a new one first.


Like always, wanting a boyfriend consumes a lot of my thoughts, although I know it shouldn't, but this is a poem I wrote regarding that time consuming subject of mine.




THE ONE.


Knots.
My stomach
when I think of you.


Yet you, I don't know.


Created for me.
Curiosity can't compare
to the reality unseen.


I persist
eagerly perched on the edge of life.
Waiting to swing my legs over the side
and plummet


into vulnerability.


But crash, I wouldn't -
"CATCH ME!"


And oh, you better.


Standards sky high,
but I'm sure you'll reach them.


"FIND ME! "


Patience dwindles.
Because I search
with no results.


I know you're there.
An uncharted territory
my future will further discover.


I wait.
and weight.
Weighs on me.


I'll be waiting,
always.




OLD POEM TIME!!


First off, let us pause and reflect back on the emo days of Laura Maddox...


( yes, I was a punk rock fairy for halloween,rocked Vans, listened to Blink 182, wore way to much black eyeliner and went to the Arvil Lavigne concert for my 14th birthday.)


sigh.
...


Ok, continue!


Alright, I know this next poem is really depressing...but it's one of my favorites that I've written.  I wrote it a few years ago and I ended up winning a Scholastic Gold Key Award for it! Even the title sounds bad! Haha, that's me for ya!

Suffocating Despair

The darkness thunders

 through the winter,

bringing her the withered-up truth.

Her lover’s forbidden desires have been revealed;

destructive, deceptive, defeat.

Feelings of anguish cast shadows of gray under her somber eyes.

Once in love,

 She is now fragile, lost.

 Abandoned.

Will he ever return to her depth

or will she drown in the suffocating despair that swallows her whole?

The bare trees overlook her crumpled frame, 

huddled on the ground;

 lost and broken. 

She is too delicate to stand,

her eyes are fixed yet vacantly staring.

Clouds of his secrecy are thick in her mind.

Consuming her every thought,

His memories strangle her heart with a metal grasp,

While a mirror image of ambers, and crimson hues are cast in her eyes.

A candle sits in her path, 

waiting for an answer.

Will the ember be rekindled

or will her hope unravel with the flame?

The thick fog hangs over her,

 like a billowing cloak.

The haze does nothing but hide her in the inky twilight.

As the wind whispers goodbye her breath is faint in the frigid air.

With one final gasp she stops,

 and the flame reignites,

in remembrance of his affair that shriveled her soul.

And she falls eternally into the darkness.

This next one is about the journey you take when you write something. I love the metaphor of it. And I love writing. LOVE. 

Miles away

It starts out small.

A mark on a page,

a speck on a slate of stark white.

It develops,

words sprawling into an arid desert,

a grain of sand that swirls in a storm of thought. 

Rough, jagged, raw.

Expanding in detail,

the barren becomes fresh, clean, awakened.

The words evolve into green, a newness of life,

a beginning.

Renewal, transformation, revival. 

It continues,

a winding path

branching off in countless directions.

Further and further.

A culmination of modern beliefs,

revision and simplicity.

Writing is in our nature,

writing is escape, writing is restoration.

It starts out small.

But it ends,

miles away. 

This next poem was one that I wrote while I was in a Sophomore creative writing class. They ended up putting it in the Lit Mag that year and that was one of the reasons I joined. I was really proud that I got in!

Judgment day

From time to time

The sun is shining

From time to time

Someone explodes

From time to time

It cost a fortune

From time to time

Our world implodes

From day to day

I’ll take or leave it

From day to day 

We watch the clock

From day to day 

We try to beat it

From day to day

We turn the lock

From stride to stride

We scream and yell out

From stride to stride

We drift and dream

From stride to stride

Our mind will sell out

From stride to stride

We sew the seam

From year to year

Were left unspoken

From life to life

It’s not okay

Right here right now

We fix the broken

For there will be

A judgment day

This poem is about dancing. I've always wanted to be an amazing dancer but I never was haha but this is about a girl who dances purely because of her passion for dance (RENEE THIS REMINDS ME OF YOU!)

Still I point

Point.

Point.

Flex.

Point.

Sweat Beads Drip.

Drip, Drip.

Threads of silk intertwined with pink lace

Flowing.

A willow confluent in the wind.

Point. Flex, Flex, Flex.

Extend.

My delicate branches arc.

Abuse the moment.

Point, Extend, Flex.
Apply Pressure.

Muscles contract,

Constrict.

Emotions spur like shooting stars.

Expression going against gravity.

Point.

Glide through the air.

Aching limbs

Pirouette.

Fight the Pain.

My hearts choreography.

Point Flex.

Polished Steps,

All goes black.

The curtain Closed.

Muscles go limp.

And still I point.

As the sweat drops.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

This last one I think I wrote my freshman year. It's kind of funny because I have yet to have a boyfriend yet I write from what seems to be like a married woman's perspective. It's nothing special I just think it's cute! 

He is mine

I see him,

his eyes are shimmering like the moon on a midnight ocean,

and his voice is as smooth as creamy coffee.

I want him,

I want to hold him close to me like a fuzzy blanket

and wrap his soft arms around me for shelter.

I know him,  

the little things that make him matchless

like how he taps his foot while typing and tilts his head when he’s upset.

I trust him,

I trust in how much he cares for me, 

and how he knows what I want even when I am at a loss.

I accept him,

when he is stressed about his job, or ecstatic about life,

he is always there in my embrace.

I love him,

I love his quirky laugh, his serious side, how easily he gets mad,

and how he is always forgiven when he smiles.

I see him, want him, know him, trust him, hold him, love him

and he is mine.

Sorry, I know that was a lot of writing! POETRY = LOVE