Oh, Just Happenings & WUR: A rather large collection

Hmm... lets start with more poetry:


When my little cousin, Cora, "water-colored", she inspired me to write this. The italicized end part is what I wanted to add...but I wasn't sure if I should.
Cora's First Watercolor
Sweet innocence drips from the
Young painter's
Brush
As she sweeps it across
The paper.
Water dribbles onto
The table,
The colors run, and make
A rainbow,
And she gurgles happily, smiles,
All the while.

Her laughter like a tinkling bell.


Flowers
Daisies, roses, carnations, marigolds,
Bend to the will of the
Wind
And the
Rain
And the
Sun,
The weather.
Day and night,
Dark and light,
Help the flowers.
Rainy and not,
Cold and hot,
The flowers like.
Wind bends them,
But gives them
A breeze.
Does it help the flowers?


This is sort of what it feels like, to me,--sometimes-- when I feel mad, mad at myself. When I read it over again, it seems kind of--scary.
Locked Heart
My heart is bound
In chains,
And locked in
A cage,
Poisoned.

Writhing about, but
Cannot get rid of
This infection.

I can't pull out of
My sorrow.


I was supposed to write a poem for school; this is what I came up with--without all those revisions.
Pen
My pen races across
The paper
While I write.
Many congratulate me,
Same suggest topics for me,
A few criticize.
But I don't do anything, really,
When I write,
I merely sit down, or stand,
Then let my pen fly.


This was another contestant for my school poem, but I sort of figured they wouldn't want a poem about a destroyed school. Oh well.
Future School (?)
Mock-wood chips off old desks,
As squeaky chair legs
Rust.
A teacher steps in quietly,
O'er the broken tiles,
To her cracked blackboard,
Looking as if a giant spider
Moved in.
She sweeps the room
With her soft eyes, and cries quietly
"What have I done?"


Now this is what I wrote after "chopping and slicing and mincing" my Pen poem. I think you can sort of see some desperation and anger.
Revisions
I cannot put forth my
Best writing,
It only gets
Chopped and
Sliced and
Minced.
Then they piece it together,
A whole new puzzle,
And my work is not my own.


Now, I don't really understand how this one came to be, or how it got named, and it's a confusing poem, to me.
Sin
Moths flutter around a
Light bulb
As someone attacks with
A flyswatter.
Mesmerized, they see nothing
But an indoor sun
Until it's too late.
There are spatters on the
Ceiling, but still more fly
To their doom.
Who knew a 75 on the sun
Was a bad omen?


This came to me when I was falling asleep. I had to scribble it down before drifting off to sleep. Interesting...
Friend
Reach out your hand
To me,
And I shall try to touch your
Fingertips.
If we do not meet, it simply
Means part of me is sleeping.
So wake me up, let us
Travel our destinies
Together.


This is sort of like some of the poems in the book Hailstones and Halibut Bones, and, if you get what I mean, you have to read it thouroughly to completely understand it. Maybe.
Yellow
A sunshin-y day,
Time passed in play,
The happiness part,
A get-up-good start,
The brightness of all,
The light that will fall,
A color of hair,
Honey of a bear,
So announce to all;
"Let's feel yellow!"


This is another try at something like Yellow, but I don't think it's very good.
Red
The color of mad,
But you might feel glad,
For love from you
Is insured*
In the color
Of your lover.
But it may boil, it may steam,
Breaking up all of your dreams,
Burning your heart with fire,
Please don't think I'm a liar,
It comes with anger,
And love.

*I wanted to say "insued", but apparently it's not a word. :P


Phew, now that's over. Whoa, that took me, like, 20 minutes to type this up. Now, here are a few facts for now:

• I'm in 6th grade (and it's almost time for the Science Fair! Ugh)
• I'm turning 11 in a week (on the 6th) (funny, I'm also in 6th grade. Heh heh heh. Whatever)
• Thomas is STARTING TRUMPET!!!!!!!!! (he has already made me partially deaf, I'm sure)
• Lily is starting KINDERGARTEN!!! She is getting so big!
• I have joined this writing group that's mostly teenagers-grownups from church, called The Order of the Broken Hand. They also do kendo, and I don't want to do that!
• Oh, I'm tired! I'm just going to post this, and leave it at that.