A Child's Memories of a War

I just like to say that I am heading to the semi-final to the 13th Annual Youth Speak Poetry Slam! I was so nervous when I at the stage. I stumble at the beginning of my poem and I was like "Shit, now I wish I have my notebook with me". The event was pretty interesting, more intense than last year. A lots of energy and judge "booing". I was scare because a lots of the poet score like a 9.8 - 10, so I was like "uh oh". In the end I made it. I will be working on my poem for the semis! Here is the poem that I recite at the prelim.

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A Child's Memories of a War

The house are all left in ruin.
The lamp posts are armed with a dying flame
welcoming the soldiers home.

The wind howls at the sound
of the war raging in the distance.
The sky is blackened out by smoke.

And I am trapped here, in my room,
forced to listen to the gunshots.
Each night, the noise grows louder and louder

until I can hear it knocking on my door,
but I am too scare to answer it.
I mean, what can I do?

Because a child only know how to make wishes,
like a wish for a hopeful new day,
or a wish for the night to end.

But, a wish is a wish,
a gunshot is a gunshot,
firing in the distance, rocking me to sleep.

I Never...

I have been so busy with school work (and procrastination), that I have been struggling on writing a new poem. I'm writing something new for the 13th Annual Youth Speak Poetry Slam, so it'll be awhile before I will post what I'm going to be reading for the contest. On the mean time, here is a poem (somewhat old).

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I Never...

I never seen the morning sun
Nor know the time it sets.
I never seen the stars up high
At night and living yet.

I never felt the morning breeze
That sways beneath my feet,
Or felt what life is really like
And what life really teaches.

I never heard the robins song
And never seem to tell,
That if the songs are even real
Or like that time stood still.

I never smelled the red roses,
Even the honey comb.
I never thought that any rose
Can grow to be alone.

I never tasted those raspberries
That mature in the Spring.
I never tasted those sweet syrup
Or salt upon the rain.

I Walk on the Same Carpet Road

Wow, I haven't post up a poem in a while. Currently I am working on 4 poems at once, so it is giving me a headache... and more of a writer block than it is helping me.

Here is a poem I wrote for my animation class (I was suppose to do an animated poetry for my project but it didn't get finish)

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I Walk on the Same Carpet Road

I hold the crescent sun
so that I can place it in the center
of the coiled cosmos.

Where the light looms over
the erupted mountains, the swollen sea,
and the Earth I stand on.

As I walk, I look behind to see
the mountains perish
to the tip of the universe.

They stretch away

to signal the start of
the race against the stars
to the end of the universe.

but was interrupted by the wide-spread cloud.
They sucked up the stars
and spit it out, striking the ground.

There, beneath the earth I see
a dead layer that showed the reflection of the clouds.
These cloud compressed

and ripped open

to reveal an eye
looking down.