I feel bad that I haven’t been posting for a while, but I don’t feel like sharing the poem I wrote today. So, instead, I thought I’d share with you a poem I wrote when I was in 8th grade, about thirteen or fourteen years old, that I think is pretty good, considering the age at which I wrote it. However, it’s also really angsty, like the kind of angst that teenagers seem to think constitutes good poetry. Let me know what you think!
The tip of the wing disappears from my view,
my last chance at catching gone in a few.
Sadly, I peer o’er valleys and hills,
leaning under the dripping window sills.
Calming me down is the sound of the rain,
smart as it is, I know who’s to blame.
Seeing the wings, I knew I should leap;
Instead all I know is just how to weep.
My road lies straight on, no surprises of such.
If only I leaped, I wouldn’t mind much.
Instead I’m still here, moaning away:
watching the wisps of my life blow away.