School Of Seven
I wrote these poems during one of my classes during 11th grade. I called them the school of seven because I couldn't think of anything else.
One
Simple melodies around me
I see the notes float in front of my eyes
Sharps, flats and naturals arise
All balance on the lines
Their key defined by that simple fact
Musical mistakes you can't take back
Go the wrong way
Make your own path
Don't be afraid to fall
Two
Running fast my feet never touch the ground
I can hear my heart pound
My lungs ache for air
Legs ache for rest
Neither gets what they desire
With lungs on fire and legs ablaze
I push myself until I collapse
Lying on the ground ocean air fills my lungs
I gasp for air
Rolling over I start to laugh
Getting up I walk home
Ready to do it again tomorrow
(Not too sure about this one honestly)
Three
Can ignorance ever be matched with intellect?
Years of evolution
Matched with superstition
The Joker speaks the loudest
Sentences full of ignorance
The intellect sits in waiting
Becomes another suspect
The Joker gets away with murder
While the intellect is the one who must endure
The Joker's misgivings
At the end of the day
The Joker is the one who must pay
While the intellect can play
In the world it has created
Four
The Words
A black and white masterpiece
Theatre for the mind
To find piece of mind
The poet who writes
The pen brings the words to life
Paper becomes the canvas
Colors are brought to life
Images dance across the page
Character from the words which form the message
To which conveyed by the artist
Poetic mind state
State of mind
The words I use to my command
For which the alphabet always stands
Never over-rated
Five
How can art
Be defined
Packaged into one little box and category
Certain criteria must be met at all times
Surpassed matched with ones
Potential for art and trickery
Six
Can it be possible to be inspired
By something as simple as a sunrise
Poetic sentences just seem to flow
The silence and serenity
Simple landscapes in the sky
Clouds that look like pillows
Some like mountains
The sunsets gentle colors
Look warm like a giant quilt
Holding you tightly
Making everything feel okay
The day starts to fade away
The sight before
Translated into dreams
Seven
It seems like the ones who talk the most
Never listen rarely being exposed to something different
Fail to value the significance in silence
The beauty of silence
The power of deep thought
In knowing your own personal intellect
All is lost on them
There it is...I hope it didn't suck too much.
One
Simple melodies around me
I see the notes float in front of my eyes
Sharps, flats and naturals arise
All balance on the lines
Their key defined by that simple fact
Musical mistakes you can't take back
Go the wrong way
Make your own path
Don't be afraid to fall
Two
Running fast my feet never touch the ground
I can hear my heart pound
My lungs ache for air
Legs ache for rest
Neither gets what they desire
With lungs on fire and legs ablaze
I push myself until I collapse
Lying on the ground ocean air fills my lungs
I gasp for air
Rolling over I start to laugh
Getting up I walk home
Ready to do it again tomorrow
(Not too sure about this one honestly)
Three
Can ignorance ever be matched with intellect?
Years of evolution
Matched with superstition
The Joker speaks the loudest
Sentences full of ignorance
The intellect sits in waiting
Becomes another suspect
The Joker gets away with murder
While the intellect is the one who must endure
The Joker's misgivings
At the end of the day
The Joker is the one who must pay
While the intellect can play
In the world it has created
Four
The Words
A black and white masterpiece
Theatre for the mind
To find piece of mind
The poet who writes
The pen brings the words to life
Paper becomes the canvas
Colors are brought to life
Images dance across the page
Character from the words which form the message
To which conveyed by the artist
Poetic mind state
State of mind
The words I use to my command
For which the alphabet always stands
Never over-rated
Five
How can art
Be defined
Packaged into one little box and category
Certain criteria must be met at all times
Surpassed matched with ones
Potential for art and trickery
Six
Can it be possible to be inspired
By something as simple as a sunrise
Poetic sentences just seem to flow
The silence and serenity
Simple landscapes in the sky
Clouds that look like pillows
Some like mountains
The sunsets gentle colors
Look warm like a giant quilt
Holding you tightly
Making everything feel okay
The day starts to fade away
The sight before
Translated into dreams
Seven
It seems like the ones who talk the most
Never listen rarely being exposed to something different
Fail to value the significance in silence
The beauty of silence
The power of deep thought
In knowing your own personal intellect
All is lost on them
There it is...I hope it didn't suck too much.