I fall when I look into your eyes
I fall straight down into their depths
And when I finally do realize
Just how much time has passed
I'm taken aback by their power that has me entranced
When we dance on the sand in the moonlight
And our hands are linked by a silvery cord
I raise my eyes to the stars
And wish to never wake from this sweet support
From deep within this dream I sigh
As together we stroll into the night
Sleeping in this peaceful slumber
Beneath the dreamer's dust that coats my eyes
I wonder in my head if this isn't all a pack of lies
Because even when we hold each other
And fall within Love's colorful swoon
I can't help but wonder if
This will all be gone when I wake at noon
But even in reality
When we stand side by sacred side
And when I hold your hand
And look deep into your precious eyes
I can still feel myself falling
Falling straight down into their depths
And after time has slowly passed
I'm so glad that you have me entranced
|About the author of "Dreamer's Dust," this may seem like another corny love poem but...Well, I was going to try and defend it but I can't. Love is a splendid thing, and if poetry is the only way that many can express it, we should all just take it in and appreciate it--not complain about how "teenagers only write about love." *smiles* Did that makes ANY sense??
partly dwelling atop mountains
another submerged in salt
like this zodiac
|About the author:
moondew is a fusion of gothic, wiccan, fairylike undertones and once flew over the cuckoo's head.
His sweet smile caresses me
He takes my hand in his and-
he pins my hand
He exctracts my unwanted sobs.
I reject his need for my pain
as soul cleansing.
As he rips my head from my body-
I tell him I love him.
Little Rock, Arkansas
let it all sink in
build a life supporting fence
block out the raging twisted noices
gravitating the subconcious choices
feelings commence to evaporate
comsuming thoughts to make it rate
there is no one here to ignite rage
prepare the old for final escape
allowing the body to calm down
courage is built while standing ground
inhaling the relief of irritating confusions
releasing thoughts and final conclusions
The song ended with a baseline like a heartbeat,
And Ruby says she loves me.
She is some crazy girl.
I know the way to the city and the lights are as pale as her fingers in the springtime.
I know the grin of shame and she is the color of 18 year old whiskey and milk.
We lay beneath the dogwood trees and moonlight,
She says everybody taught her and nobody listened.
She says she knows the colors of the photographs and where the seasons turn.
Ruby came from the revolution,
They left her out at 4am,
Crazy and stoned on the streets all soaked with misery.
And her belly and legs and fingers wild,
Her eyes all gray like dirty water.
And all she had were those colorless legs and lips like pomegranates,
feeding every chrysler her ugly dance.
Ruby, I leave you my sun dance and alder eyes,
I leave you my childhood smells like warm bread and peach trees,
I leave you my desire and dreams,
I leave you my colors.
Ruby says she loves me and the song starts again.
|About the author of Ruby
I'm just some crazy kid... there's not much about me to say, I'm 15, I lived on the streets for 2 years and just recently came home. I started writing about people I had met on the streets- just little blurbs that turned into poetry. I don't really have anything else to say about me.
I stand alone...
in the world of darkness..
with nothing but my weakness
I stand alone...
with no one by my side
with no one to confide
I stand alone...
with all my pains and sorrows
with all the dreadful tomorrows
I stand alone...
with my whole life in my eye
watching all my dreams die
I stand alone..
with all the hurt and anger at everyone
trying to find a friend or someone
I stand alone...
with all my happyness drowning i front of me
leaving me with my heart and soul all empty
I stand alone..
with only memories to hang on to
knowing there's nothing I can do
I stand alone...
with only myself to trust
because everything I ever had went away like dust
I stand alone...
|About the author of Alone
I'm currently 17 and in 12th grade! I love writing poetry and reading poetry!
Suck me into your comforting haven.
Create a cave with your radiating fingers and let
my fingers, like cold stones after rain,
They are wanting shelter and need to feel your
sunshine through and through.
Hold them in this lovley place until your
radiance flows into my bloodstream- until my
weary red river of life soaks in your rays.
Hold me until my river meets your hot spring and
our hands create, together, a warm lake of
|About the author of Warm Hands. I am almost 18 and enjoy writing poetry. I wrote this while working at a summer camp last summer. The summer had become a sort of lonely one for me. The inspiration for writing this poem came after meeting an older woman there who knew my mom. She took my hands into hers as she was speaking to me and I thought about how comforting a simple thing like a pair of warm hands can be.
"I sentance thee...arrested."
Sniped the judge unto his charge
Who took his time to weigh things up
And then said, by and large,
"Arrested? But for what,
For I am not a friend of crime-
In fact I've tried to stop it but
I'm running out of time!"
And all around the courtroom walls
The buzz seemed to agree
That whoever this offender
He was guilty as could be
(They were too confused to oppose
A force they could not see).
"No friend of crime?" Exclaimed the judge.
"Then,pray, try to explain
The charge of murder,fraud and sloth
I see beside your name."
"I am no killer nor am I
Of lazy blood" said He
"And as of fraud, have never claimed
I am what I can't be."
"LIAR!" Roared the jury
And its passion shook the ground
But was halted by a tremble that was felt
By all around.
The courtroom fell to silence:
There was not a single sound.
"What have I done?" The voice was sad,
"These people I have made
Will not believe what they can't see-
Or are they too afraid?
They think actions speak more loud than words;
That seeing is believing.
Lying is a sin, I know-
Yet truth can be deceiving!
It's my last chance" He told himself
"To save this race of men:
I must give them firm evidence!"
He carried on and then
The room went dark and something roared
"I'll show myself to them!"
The judge was rendered powerless
As the jury froze in fright
And for once he threw his gavel down
(He'd lost the will to fight)
And thunderballs and lightening
Made the courtroom a display
Of ethereal fire 'till
The last spark died away.
"He's a monster! He's a demon!
He's the Devil in disguise!"
But only bitter laughter
Met the jury's desperate cries
And then all still:
And there He was
Before their very eyes.
"I sentance thee...forgiven"
Cried the child with outstretched hand,
Though "Now who is the sinner?"
He was tempted to demand.
"I gave you life, but with that life
I wished that you were free-
You brought these things upon yourselves:
It was not down to me.
Now learn, world, that what you see
May not be all there is."
As the judge still had the gavel,
The Lord banged down with his fist
And just before He disappeared, he cried out
" Case dismissed!"
|About the author of 'Case Dismissed': I'm 14 and live in North Wales, a small country near England. I have always had a great love of English and passed my major English exams with the highest grade available two years early. I myself am not religious at all but I like to try and write from points of view other than my own so have tried to tackle this poem with humour and sensitivity.
What's the Deal?
What would you do,
if I said I would call,
and then I didn't
Would you care at all?
Would you ever stop to think,
what happened to the plan?
Would you ever suspect,
I was with another man?
I know relationships
are built on trust
but i can't help but wonder
would you leave me in the dust?
Now you know,
just how I feel
when you forget to call,
Baby, what's the deal?
|About The Author:
I'm Lidia, this is my first time on TeenLit.com and I decided to submit a poem. I'm an athletic person and poetry is kind of the way to express my feelings (hmm, commonly heard, I'm sure) but I'm still kind of new at it, and I just do it for fun, so it doesn't compare to most already on this site. Happy surfing!
A Party to Forget
Crying out softly by myself,
Alone with my "friends".
I don't belong here.
Starving from need;
A need to be needed.
I slip, and dive from the balcony,
And fall for the rest of the night.
A sip, and unquenchable longing,
With a wish under winter moonlight
Glinting off cold needles
Falling from the sky.
North Little Rock, AR
|About the author of "A Party to Forget"
That party sucked.
That Special Someone
That special someone is a friend to the end,
They will never leave your side,
They will always be there in tough times,
Like when a close one dies.
They show they care in little ways,
Like a flower or a card,
And because it seems so very small,
You'd never guess they try so hard.
But if you were to read their mind,
Their feelings, their actions, their thoughts,
You'd learn to realize the care,
And see the love you've brought.
They may not show it physically,
Nor express themselves in sound,
But if you're with that special someone,
You will feel the love you've found.
|About the author of That Special Someone:
I am a 14 year old student at ESS and I am very actively involved in everything. I like sports and creative writing. I always write about the way I'm feeling and it is expressed so clearly when I write. This poem is about my first high school love. Even though I might be too young for love, trust me. Thats exactly what this was. And maybe still is.
When the Lights are Out
I look around at the candlelight.
Everything here is so perfect tonight.
The reflection of flame sparkles in your eye.
I can't keep your stare but I try.
You take me in your arms and embrace me.
My mind and body feel so free.
You so slowly kiss my neck
I'm sure I'm dreaming so I turn to check,
I notice whatever I do you're here
You take away my pain and fear.
It feels so right to be with you
Each time a feeling of something new.
I blow out the candle afraid you'll slip away
I can't shake this feeling try as I may.
I turn and you're still here, it's not a dream,
Everything is exactly as it seems.
Overland Park, Kansas
|About the author of When the lights are out. I am a 16 yr. old sophomore in high school. Writing poetry is my passion. I wrote this poem about my ex-boyfriend who has been away from me for almost two years and is still in love with me. We are the best friends two people could ever possbly be. I am always sure that he is a gift and that if I am not careful the best thing I have ever known in my life will slip away. That is what this poem is about, those people and things you appreciate so much and are afraid they don't know it and that if you aren't careful they'll be gone.
The air thick,
The fabric of Life.
We are but patterns,
‘Till the time,
When the fabric,
One By one,
From whence we came.
Only the fates,
No one else.
By the hand of a fate.
We will return,
To the fabric,
In the tapestry.
All the while,
Winter Springs, Florida
|About the author of Tapestry. I am a teen in Florida in the United States, and I am looking to share my works with others than my friends and family. I hope that you enjoy this work as it is my first ever attempt to be published in any form.
Rescued by You
My mouth open, my eyes glare
For my heart has died.
Surely I am not the same,
This is not I.
I fell, only to arise by strength.
I sobbed, only to have tears wiped away.
I felt pain, only to be healed.
I sinned, only to be forgiven each day.
I can not recall what happened
And where I went wrong.
Oh I must be rescued,
For it has been too long.
I now fall, only to be in pain.
I now sob, only to feel like river.
I now feel pain, only to see no help.
I now sin, only to feel cold and shiver.
How I struggle now and
I reach for Your hand.
Catch me as I fall to save me,
So I may land.
I have fallen, You lifted me up.
I have sobbed, You wiped my shaky face.
I have felt pain, You have healed me.
I have sinned, You forgave me with Your grace.
I had strength at a time and
Pain once also.
As I struggled for the strength,
You saved me.
El Paso, Texas
|About the author of Rescued by You: I am 14 years old. This poem talks about what has happened to my relationship with God; how I was fine, then I fell, then He rescued me.
Things That I Dread
Most people in life have many fears and dreads. I dread not doing as well as I would like on a school assignment, or on tests, or homework. People dread mistakes that they feel they have made in their lives. Some dread that they might marry the wrong person, and wish that they had married someone else. When I was young, I wished I could have had some way of having my mom and dad not get a divorce. I dreaded having to move three times in the third grade after the divorce took place. I dreaded only being able to see my dad on weekends, and still do. Dread is a terrible thing, and you have got to find a way to change your feelings around, and get rid of that dread so you start enjoying yourself.
When I found out that it was that time for softball, the sport that I love to play, I jumped at the chance to join the team! On the day of the meeting, I rushed to get there. Little did I know that it was not going to be like what I thought. When I first got there, they explained all the rules. I was feeling nervous and anxious and wanted to just get out of there. The thought of me out there, running to get the ball, but missing frightened me. I despised the idea of getting three strikes at bat, and people laughing at me or ridiculing me.
On the day of my first practice, sweat was dripping from my forehead. I was quivering with fear, and dread. On the way to practice, my stomach felt real bad. Like a sliver in my thumb, only this one was in my stomach. The world was spinning around me. I felt sick and nauseous all at the same time. My head felt real heavy and I almost collapsed. My mom’s boyfriend was driving me to the practice, and he kept telling me to calm down, and to have a good time. He said, “Remember, you wanted to do this. It was your choice!” That didn’t help me very much. Half way there my hands felt clammy and were soaked with sweat. I was wishing that I were home in bed, or in a bubble bath—anything but being in this car, having a nervous break down, half way to the worst time of my life! My mind was filled with troubled thoughts. I was staring out the window, and everything looked as if I were in a daze or in a dream. I felt two emotions at the same time.
One was dread, and fear. I dreaded the thought of going to practice and getting humiliated. I feared the thought of all the pressures of playing, and that I thought we would be facing another team, and they would be much better than we were. When we pulled into the school parking lot, it felt like a dream. I almost passed out. Then it happened….
I slowly got out of the truck, glove on my hand, hat on my head, and a little voice inside saying, “Go home!” I wanted to follow that; I really wanted to go home.
When I got there, the team was in a circle around the coach, and when he saw me, he said, “Hi, welcome to the team! What’s your name and what position do you want to play?”
I said, “My name is Kelly, and I want to play 3rd base”. He told me that he would be sure that I would get it. Then he explained some more stuff to us, and then we went out on the field to begin our practice. The sliver in my stomach turned into butterflies. I ran up to the base, got down and ready, then started shaking. I don’t know why, I just did. We practiced doing plays, and running drills, but I was not having any fun yet, I was just calming down a tad bit.
When I first realized that I was having fun was when I first stepped up to bat. I got on my helmet; my heart was beating a million miles a minute. I dug my cleats in the ground, got on my batting gloves, and then looked at the pitcher. The pitchers name was Kellie Drier, and I hade seen her practicing. She could really fire those balls fast down the middle. I was very nervous, and when I looked at Kellie, her eyes burned into me. I was trembling again. She whipped one at me, I watched the ball real close, and swung harder than ever before. The ball flew past the pitcher, past second base, and hit the back fence. At that moment, I felt something that I haven’t felt for a long time. I was having a blast! It was so cool, and everyone was cheering, and to top it, the coach couldn’t believe it! It was so thrilling, so exciting and…Fun! From that moment on, softball has been my favorite sport. And I love to bat.
I can’t believe that I was afraid to go to practice. The whole experience is kind of embarrassing. Why embarrassing? Because I was afraid, but really all you have to do is go out and try it. You need to experience things to find out your true feelings, if you like it or not. My feelings of dread were immature. But now that I tried the sport to see if I liked it or not, I really did like it. Why not go and try things, because if you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it, but if you like it, you’ll be glad that you tried it. I am glad that I played because I am pretty good at it and love to play. In fact, I can’t wait to play again this year. The thrill and excitement when you step up to bat to hit the homerun to win the game—it’s all great to me. When I play 3rd base and the batter nails the ball to me, then I catch it or pick it up and hammer it to the first baseman, for the 3rd out, every one will think that I’m great and a wonderful player.
When you are afraid to do things in life, you will never get anywhere. You need to experience things to see how you actually feel about them. I am glad that I played softball, and cannot believe that I was so frightened to go. Still today, when I look back on it, it makes me laugh to act the way I did. I have learned my lesson, and will never be afraid to try things again. It amazes me that my emotions were acting that way upon me. If it weren’t for the thrill of batting, then it might not be my favorite sport, and I might not be writing about this today.
|About The Author:
I love to write stories, and to have people read them. The thing that I like to write most on is literature. Some people say that I have talent. I entered this paper so that I can have many people read it and give me feadback, so that they can read what I have to say.
I slid into my seat and buckled myself in with great care; tightening each strap, checking each latch. I turned the key slowly, as if I were trying to keep others from noticing. The engine started with a jolt. It ran roughly for a few moments, each solitary explosion sending a shock throughout my body. But soon the big Hemi went as smooth as silk and sent out an exhaust note like that of a purring lion. I gripped the heavy shifter tightly in my right hand as I gingerly pressed the clutch. With a little force, I punched it into first.
As I let off the clutch, I eased into the throttle, leaving my spot and driving up to the waiting line. As my turn approached, my heart beat faster, faster, faster, and I became filled with extreme excitement. I wanted to just slam down the throttle and let that beast under the hood propel me to a quarter mile in just over twelve seconds. But I knew my time would come.
I waited. Trying to lighten the temptation, I gripped the wheel as hard as I could letting some of the energy I had built up escape. It didn’t work. I tapped the gas, making the beast growl, and instead of relieving me of temptation, it tempted me more to let it out.
But yet I waited
Then, the time arrived. I watched the car ahead of me speed off into the distance as I boiled the slicks behind me to warm ‘em up. There was tire smoke flooding through the window by the time I was done.
I drove up to the line slowly, revving the engine more than necessary so that I made sure that no one could miss me. I turned to look at my opponent, and looked him straight in the eyes. There was sort of an ‘evil’ grin on my face.
The moment passed and I became focused on the starting lights.
The sequence began:
This time, I dropped the clutch and slammed down the throttle.
It felt like there was an explosion from the monstrous engine that sent the front end leaping skyward.
It seemed like hours before the car came crashing down like a boulder that was hurled off a cliff.
I heard the engine whine higher and higher; I slapped the gearbox into second...
third...fourth. My heart was pounding so hard by now, it felt stronger than that of the roaring engine. All I could see were the blurred outlines of signs on the walls and crowd flying by out of the corners of my eyes. I focused on the destination of my flight...the finish line.
I crossed the line, and eased off the gas and into the brakes. I downshifted:
third...second...first. I pulled to the side of the track and stopped. My hair was frizzed in all different directions, my face dirty with sweat and char marks from all the tire smoke. Then I glanced at the timer boards, I had lost, by mere tenths of a second. I walked over to my opponent, "Good race..."
"Same to you," he replied, smiling like he was cool, "but too bad I beat ya..."
" Yeah," I said with a devilish look on my face "but remember, we got all night..."
Now this, this is real racing.
About the author of 'Real Racing':
Michael is 14 years old and attends 8th grade at Center Middle School in Ohio. His true passion is found in cars, practically any kind, but his favorite is the 'Muscle Cars' of 60's & 70's. His family owns a large amount of land on which is a garage that can hold 23 cars and it is filled; mostly with muscle/collectors cars. He plans to get a major in Automotive Engineering and a minor in journalism ( with hope that he can get hired by an automotive magazine company ). Michael currently wants to race go-karts and likes to bike, draw ( cars mostly ), & listen to music.