Short Poems

by Daisuki

Published March 13, 2012

In Poetry

As I watch the Shemejis my friend gave me crawl all over my computer screen, and as I wait for the next exam, I type random letters on the keyboard and they form these. (Okay, so they're not totally random...)
 
On a Sunny Day
 
here I stand
in acid rain
scolded by the ink that used to dance for me
and run sleek down the paper.
 
it now tells me of the boy
who writes of cold blades, and cold blood
because everyone knows
you will never be offered an umbrella
on a sunny day
 

5-7-5 syllables

Dejected
I said I won’t judge,
lest the May flowers deem me
unacceptable
 
or they could say I’m
a hell of a late bloomer
and die without me
 
Heavy Season
I hate summer most,
with its muggy air, breath, kiss
and the things lost then
 
It’s Been a While
how long has it been
since my words stopped listening?
since autumn, at least
 
Snow Thought
alabaster dream:
my wish for an icy day
and a white sunset
 
Silly Human
I feel I don’t care,
but then I think about it
and realize I do
Comments & reviews · 2
User avatar
alliyah
Review
alliyah wrote a review Review · May 15, 2012

These are really nice, great job! In the first poem I like the line about being "scolded by ink". The haikus (is haiku plural "haikus"?) also had great imagery and each had an interesting thought. In the "heavy season" I might change "air or breath" to touch or something different because "air" and "breath" are basically the same thing. I'm not really sure about the last line in "It's been a while" too, the rest was nice so I might re-think the last line so you dont waste it. I didn't see any spelling mistakes and the punctuation all looked good to me. :) Thanks for sharing your poems, I enjoyed reading them.

~~Ally-wa

User avatar
tgirly
Comment
tgirly commented Comment · Mar 22, 2012

My favorite would probably be It's Been a While and my least favorite Silly Human because it doesn't really have any imagery in it and it needs more detail, even though the theme of Silly Human is probably my favorite.



The bird that would soar above the level plain of tradition and prejudice must have strong wings. It is a sad spectacle to see the weaklings bruised, exhausted, fluttering back to earth.
— Kate Chopin, The Awakening