What is poetry?
Many ask this question, and just as many have answers.
But what people don't realize is thaat the answer is different for everyone.
For me Poetry is an outlet a form of freedom with no expectations.
A place for me to go to say what is needed to be said.
The random thoughts that make no sence, and the feeling trapped under
what should be.
Poetry is my way out.
Red is in my head, but I would rather her next to me instead of stuck in my head when I lay down in bed. Enough said. I must make the fleeting moments last as they dwindle through my fingers, oh so fast. The words I use to describe are better used for me to hide the hurt I feel inside. On second thought, I think I lied. The feelings do not just stay within my fragile skin. If there were sides to this battle, they would win. Call it a cry for help or release of pain I felt as I bawled my eyes out, on my knees I knelt. I could only think that if I were wax, I would not melt. For inside is cold. Use of such a word is bold, but its use I do uphold, no matter what I am told. I can see that getting old. How can Red be the source of such a force that can compel me with such ease of course. I realize here the missing part. The piece I left apart is that only of my aching heart.
I have never been so lost in my life,
I used to know who I was,
I used to not care so much about what people thought.
I was never really a leader, but now I wasn't even in line.
I forgot who I was after the cruel words were banged over my head
A thousand times over.
I was told I was wrong and brainwashed into taking the bait.
I tried to blend in, but that didn’t feel right.
I wasn’t meant to blend in, but I was so lost,
I didn't even know how I got to the place I was in.
Asking for help seemed wrong, like I was giving up.
But I couldn’t go on the same way anymore,
I was driving myself over the edge.
I needed to stop, take a step back and look at the big picture.
I was alive, no one bothered me anymore, and I was gonna be ok.
Step 1 was talking more, saying the things I thought in my head.
Step 2 was wearing the clothes that wouldn’t make me invisible.
Step 3 was learning it’s ok to trust again, to rebuild bridges
That had been burnt for the wrong reasons
Step 4 was doing things on my own, and being ok with that.
Step 5 was doing them with other people
Step by step, right then left, I found my way back onto a new path.
The path that felt right for me.
24 hours in the day, the speed of it is crazy.
12 o' clock hits today's a New Day, It was brazy.
But today was a good day, Aging expeditiously.
It's like your age is attributes like in 2k, years will go by till I start wearing a toupe.
Every number of age comes with more accommodations and consequences.
Every age is a rinse of glow and opportunity.
The more I grow, the more life becomes immune to me.
Immune to problems people vent about.
problems that must be faced
like enemies
As humans, we need to learn to love our enemies
In order to live to pass the hate
In order to accept my fate
To master keeping a normal heart rate, while hearing the good and bad
I am changing every day by the speed of lightning
Usual treating life like a bar, "put it on my tab"
Words of a procrastinator, "when you going pay the tab"
Life keeps going, The mind needs to match or surpass my age.
Cause age moves expeditiously.
One dream for my future,
To take care and nurture,
Those who have lost people they love
Make their loved ones look alive,
For their last goodbye,
And celebrate the life the lived
To plan the day,
Music, food, and sermon
And help relieve their stress
Honor them in their best of dress,
Those who past away,
Make it easy to say
Goodbye.
That is my dream.
You are feelings of the world
You are the foggy mornings of a city
You are the warmth of sunrays in Cali
You are the second before a favorite band comes on stage
You are the laughter of a group of friends avoiding age
You are the twist in a stomach as one tells a lie
You are the knowing you are waving to someone for the last time
When it seems that everyone is ignoring the feelings of the world
When it seems you are going unrecognized
I have felt all the feelings of the world watching you
watch the people
watch the streets
watch the skies
You are the feelings of the world
There once was a farmer
who planted a seed.
Yes, he really tried his best
to help it grow.
He watered it daily,
cared for it deeply,
but the fruit of his labor
would never show.
He could not figure out
what held the seed back.
And after much frustration
he let it go.
Now the seed was stronger
than it should have been.
While left to die, it survived
until one day
A fateful, stormy day
the wind blew so strong
the seed tumbled miles away.
It found a home.
There, the seed laid down roots.
It had found its place.
The seed soon burgeoned brightly.
It was not slow.
Its beauty grew and grew;
people would marvel.
No other plant could rival
its majesty.
Little did the farmer know
even the strongest cannot grow
when in rocky soil
they are sowed.
The past has been
Dump in a shelf bin,
The present has been
Plotting a future unseen
With the vision it has seen.
Feeling like a modern day slave, weConfine our feet with Jordan's, weCuff our arms with MK watches, WeHold our tongues with respect from Those who don't respect us.Our body draped in clothes with holes that we all can thank Yeezy for And we suffocate ourselves with the tightest Jeans that squeezes out the truth.We're blinded Not realizing that we have been brainwashed to Believe that everything we're wearing what brings value to us.That the cost of our clothes will equal the costs of our worth. And not that at birth we were already kings and queensWe are modern day slaves, stuck with the mindset that materialist things will bring me happiness ButWhat they failed to tell us is that onceWe die these materialistic things can't go with usThat in our afterlife we won't be judged jingoistically But by what we've done.And if we won't to be realistic the only thing that was worn out was our soul that we never left free.
"I am more than a number"
Is a lie because
Numbers define my worth
I know that
A life worth living is defined by numbers so
I remain unconvinced that
"I am more than a number"
I know
I am the number on the scale and
You are wrong to believe
I am more than a number on a piece of paper
At the end of the day
How I grew from failure
Is so much less important than
The fact that I failed
I will always remember that
Each breath I struggled to take
Means less than
Each breath I have ever taken with ease
If my worth is simplified
My baggage is capable of defining me
So it's impossible to assume that
I am more than the bags under my eyes
Surely
Numbers determine the value of an item
In the same way that
Numbers determine my value
I do not see how
Being an individual
Could change
This
But
I am as strong as my weakest moment
I refuse to heed the idea that
Some circumstances are beyond my control and
Simply opportunities to prove my strength because
Obstacles are
Irrefutable and absolute for
Nothing is
Up to me
Everything is
Limited by my past failures so
I will never be
Successful because
Only numbers can determine whether or not I am
It's a lie to say that
"If I am happy, I am successful"
I know that
The numbers
Will determine
My ability to do great things
I know
These numbers as a representation of my worth
Not
As a representation of my progress
I will know numbers to be true
My senior year
The above poem is about my personal experience struggling for years with undiagnosed ADHD and then, once diagnosed at the end of my freshman year, desperately comparing myself to and trying to catch up with my peers. I felt undervalued, insecure in my abilities in just about everything I did, and constantly anxious about my performance. As I matured through high school, I've embraced the way I think, my creativity, my passion, and my ability to observe and appreciate a variety of perspectives. I've learned my worth and potential contribution to society are not determined solely by statistics. My poem above, when read from beginning to end, reflects my mindset as a high school freshman when, under the weight of my uncontrolled thoughts, budding and bursting in my mind, I was unable to earn the grades I wanted, despite spending innumerable hours studying and working toward that goal. When read from end to beginning, however, my poem shows my current mindset and how I have been able to reach higher goals than I ever would have imagined, now that I have learned to understand and appreciate the way my mind works. I hope you will take a moment to read my poem aloud from end to beginning so you can hear my voice, my struggle and my triumph.
