Past Poems
Past, Present, Future
by Emily Jane Brontë
Tell me, tell me, smiling child,
What the past is like to thee ?
'An Autumn evening soft and mild
With a wind that sighs mournfully.'
Tell me, what is the present hour ?
'A green and flowery spray
Where a young bird sits gathering its power
To mount and fly away.'
......
Echoes of a Rose
by Drake Son
Her winds still whisper names forgotten,
And her rivers now hum hymns of home’s embrace.
Chimney tops rise, silent like prayers unanswered,
And cracked cobbles mutter stories of long ago.
Still held together by time’s drystone hands,
The home we once knew, now overthrown.
Now, not a place of darkness and gloom,
As strangers still believe.
Nor a land of milky tea-stained dreams,
......
The girl I left behind
by Aishat Yahkub
The girl I left behind
A cherished memory, etched on my mind
The tides of time ripping us apart,
as I drift farther and farther away
Her, a static point on the beach of memories
And I, facing the future on the horizon
The sky our sole connection
With stars in her eyes
A lover of the sunrise
......
Classically Misunderstood
by Nicole B
Deep down I knew I was right all along
But I waited too long
Too long for everyone to tell me I was right
Cry’s for attention
Validate me please
Please don’t leave
I was a statue of strength with a cracked foundation
......
Was it Worth it
by Ella S
Starting something new
is a bit scary at first.
It's not the beginning that's hard,
but seeing it the whole way through.
Sometimes we make it to the end.
Sometimes we don't.
If we do make it through,
it makes us feel good.
A sense of joy when we look back
at what we accomplished.
......
Echoes of a Rose
by Drake Son
Her winds still whisper names forgotten,
And her rivers now hum hymns of home’s embrace.
Chimney tops rise, silent like prayers unanswered,
And cracked cobbles mutter stories of long ago.
Still held together by time’s drystone hands,
The home we once knew, now overthrown.
Now, not a place of darkness and gloom,
As strangers still believe.
Nor a land of milky tea-stained dreams,
......
90. I often stop to think about where you might be
by Kea Campbell
I often stop to think about where you might be.
I stare into space and wonder about how we buried our dreams without saying a word.
And when the came and you said you were moving, I made sure to leave you first.
It's the insecurity of enjoying life alone that guts me to my core and rattles me deeper than bone.
I can't say I don't think about us 5 years ago.
Drunk under the stars with your arm as my pillow.
It wouldn't be true to say you didn't treat me right.
But it wouldn't be false if I said that sometimes when I was with you, I felt colder than winter's driest nights.
......
85. My silent stories are fading
by Kea Campbell
My silent stories are fading.
Unthought and nearly forgotten.
Testimonies published since grade 8,
But the chronicles, less of an epilogue.
I think about writing sequels,
But the narratives never change.
It starts with me and ends the same.
Merely less of who I used to be.
......
Cruelty-- Forgiveness-- And Forevermore.
by Nad Sof
Sometimes I wonder, what makes the heart so cruel,
When forgiveness blooms in the soil of a soul’s duel.
If I, broken and bent, can rise from the wreck,
Can bury the ghosts, and silence the wrecked,
Why can’t they let go, leave me in peace,
And allow me the breath of a soft release?
I don’t ask for riches, or a word of praise,
Not even a promise, not even a gaze.
Though they tore from me every spark, every light,
......
Hands that Left Scars
by Nad Sof
I’m sorry to those who carry my shadow,
For no soul should ever bear such weight.
I am a girl, barely begun to understand the world,
Yet I've tasted its bitter lessons too early—
Each one leaves a scar that whispers,
"Don't trust, don't hope, don't dream."
If there’s a touch that could reach me, soft and kind,
Without the weight of ghosts in its hands,
That would be the first.
......
