HomePoems by Chickengirl21
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Poems by Chickengirl21
by Chickengirl21 Wed Jan 23, 2013 5:31 pm
Some poems I have written. Feel free to use any of them, just give credit to Chickengirl21!
The butterfly in the ghetto:
Most beautiful things stay
away, out of reach.
On the other side of the fence,
where the world’s still a good place.
Butterflies don’t live here.
The bird song is a distant echo
just out of reach.
But there was one,
a yellow butterfly floating over the fence
like a ray of sun.
It leaves a trail of gold behind it,
as it flutters down,
to land on the cold grey ground.
So out of place,
like a dot in a sea of stripes.
Just like me.
Go, I told it.
here’s not a good place.
There’s no such thing as a good day
in the ghetto.
But it stayed
for a moment.
Pausing,
like the feeling of hope,
warming in your heart.
Then fluttered back over the fence.
backlit against a turquoise sky.
Some day I’ll follow,
cast off the barbed-wire,
cast off the pain.
cast off the chains I have to wear,
just because of who I am.
אני גאה להיות יהודי
I’m proud to be Jewish.
Limerick
There once was a person named me
My brain feels like a squashed pea
I can’t think anymore
I sink down to the floor
I don’t want to wright poetry!
Haiku
Twinkles in the sky
watches the earth silently
one morning star fades.
The sky
The moon glitters in the sky
The stars are reflected in children’s eyes.
Sky blue as eggs in a twittering bird’s nest
clouds like feathers on a baby bird’s chest.
Seed
From the tiniest seed,
Comes the whispering willow,
The towering red-wood,
The strong sturdy oak.
They give mother nature a coat for each season,
Apple blossoms in spring,
The red leaves in fall.
In winter, the evergreens, coated in snow.
In summer, the willows, wave in the breeze.
From the tiniest seed, comes the whispering willow.
It’s not about what it is.
It’s about what it can become.
I have a ton more that I'm way to lazy to type out right now. I'll post them later. :D
The butterfly in the ghetto:
Most beautiful things stay
away, out of reach.
On the other side of the fence,
where the world’s still a good place.
Butterflies don’t live here.
The bird song is a distant echo
just out of reach.
But there was one,
a yellow butterfly floating over the fence
like a ray of sun.
It leaves a trail of gold behind it,
as it flutters down,
to land on the cold grey ground.
So out of place,
like a dot in a sea of stripes.
Just like me.
Go, I told it.
here’s not a good place.
There’s no such thing as a good day
in the ghetto.
But it stayed
for a moment.
Pausing,
like the feeling of hope,
warming in your heart.
Then fluttered back over the fence.
backlit against a turquoise sky.
Some day I’ll follow,
cast off the barbed-wire,
cast off the pain.
cast off the chains I have to wear,
just because of who I am.
אני גאה להיות יהודי
I’m proud to be Jewish.
Limerick
There once was a person named me
My brain feels like a squashed pea
I can’t think anymore
I sink down to the floor
I don’t want to wright poetry!
Haiku
Twinkles in the sky
watches the earth silently
one morning star fades.
The sky
The moon glitters in the sky
The stars are reflected in children’s eyes.
Sky blue as eggs in a twittering bird’s nest
clouds like feathers on a baby bird’s chest.
Seed
From the tiniest seed,
Comes the whispering willow,
The towering red-wood,
The strong sturdy oak.
They give mother nature a coat for each season,
Apple blossoms in spring,
The red leaves in fall.
In winter, the evergreens, coated in snow.
In summer, the willows, wave in the breeze.
From the tiniest seed, comes the whispering willow.
It’s not about what it is.
It’s about what it can become.
I have a ton more that I'm way to lazy to type out right now. I'll post them later. :D
Chickengirl21- Newbie
- Join date : 2013-01-21
Posts : 6
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Age : 24
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