Thanksgiving.

Towards the turkey the
Hunters will chase,
Attack, Attack!
No more turkey, but a feast.
Killed, the dinner
Smells like a
Gory massacre of
Indigenous turkey, Later
Various arrays of turkey parts are
Inter-spread amongst
Neighbors
Garbage cans.


I wrote this for Mrs. Meek, the assignment was to write a "poem" that spelled THANKSGIVING vertically. Naturally, I had a gory poem. I always do.

I wrote this in the car on the way to my sisters house. I WAS NOT DRIVING AT THE TIME. :]



Sycamore:

The red sycamore leaf has breathed its last breath;
Now begins its eternal death.
The stem disconnects from the root of its existence
the journey down is such a great distance.
Floating down the red leaf's future was rather bleak,
t journeyed onto a quiet creek.
Water pounded the leaf to the floor,
the life poured out, to much yore.
Drown'd,
The red leaf was never found.


This is the first poem from the book I am creating.

First Kiss:

Impatience reeks through our skin,
Our emotions flowed from within.
The moment our lips connected;
More magic happened then expected.

Then, we walked out unto the night
with his arm around me tight,
The moon stared at us as we lingered by,
The moon might have been the midnight spy.

Casually, We go our separate ways,
But each of us were in a daze.
Unable to phase the moment we just shared,
We grabbed each other, and into the others eyes we just stared.