Some Poetry

I really haven't been posting on any of the worlds I'm in, school and life keep on getting in the way unfortunately. It's kind of sad that this world about me has only two posts including this one. I'm that boring.

For those of you who don't know I love to write. When I grow up I want to be an author and maybe publish a book. I'm thinking about submitting these three poems to the Scholastic Competition. They are still a rough draft so they are...well, rough. Maybe you guys can give me a few pointers, I love constructive criticism. They sound kind of repetitive but keep in mind they are three separate poems. I hope none of you think about this but, don't steal my poems, I'll have to track you down and hurt you....Okay, so I won't be able to do that but I will feel really emo.

I am a musician
I make the strings sing
and fill the air with my private symphony
the dots on the paper are words
and the cello speaks them
the air begins to hum
and the vibrations shake my bones
my heart beats the rhythm
music flows through my veins
fingers, like spiders, dance on the cello
on the black dance floor
up and down
pausing
shaking
the song stops
my ears still ring
filled with the melody
and the air still hums
even as the bow lifts from the strings
and in a whistle as the wind blows
the song goes on

I am the reader
I open the book
and as the cover turns
the door opens to another world
that is hidden in the jumble of letters
I have no sense of time
the words go on forever
eternal
my imagination stretched to its limits
I see
I hear
I touch
I taste
there is no worries nor problems
that control my own world
just the mind of the character
or the mind of the book itself
and my thoughts change
to those of the mind
I have those emotions
a sting of pain
a wave of sorrow
a rush of excitement
a blur of words, then a tear
Everything is brought to life
through the inert pages
and my eyes open
as the ink runs, forming works
then it all cuts off
as my eyes lift off the page
and the book is closed

I am the author
I put the pencil on the paper
my fingers on the keyboard
and the words take off
the senses become picture
the pictures, thoughts
the thoughts, words
the words, letters
I start to sculpt
the feelings and images in my mind
to the paper in front of me
to the glowing screen of the computer
enabling those feelings and images
to be felt and seen by others
I feel the breeze and write it
its invisible cloth lightly brushing my skin
I see the tree and write it
as it’s branches sway
and it’s leaves flutter all the shades of green
I see
I hear
I touch
I taste
all these things
and they are slowly transformed
all but with a pencil
and the mind of the author
the author that is now me

Random funnies, from deviantART. I DID NOT MAKE THIS.

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