There is a Devastation (1989)

There is a devastation to this world
There is a destruction
  a sweet saltiness of tears,
  a cry in the dark murk,
  a haze of sticky rain,
  a hardness in broken concrete,
  - the broken flow of gore!
     the pain of the child!
In a world of threats
the red button rests
There is a consequence to this;
  a ruin of nature
slipping away, down a drain,
helpless, no hope in sight,
  a feeling of desperation
I might well have known,
dreaming unaware
There is a ruining
from life to life
and there is a crumbling
from nothing to zero, a journey from hole to hole again
that travels nowhere
There is such thing as beauty,
I have seen her before and know the warmth she brings
to me and others
in spite of ourselves

More Assignments

Here's some descriptive exercises I've done as a teenager: describe what I would rather be in comparison to something else...


I'd rather be a colorful adjective than a still noun;
I'd rather be a poet's dictionary than a fashion magazine;
I'd rather be a composition book than a single sheet of typing paper;
I'd rather be a fountain pen than an electric typewriter.




I wish I were the full moon that tries hard to filter through passing clouds,
For then I'd glow brightly and guide romantics into the night.
I wish I were the champagne glasses that guests elegantly hold in hand,
For then I'd meet their lips and pour their drinks.

My Book (1989)

I wish I had my book with me

Thoughts and ideas appear continuously;

I am most likely to forget such things

For it to be present with me means something

My book is where all of those go

Some have been read and others don't know

My book is meant for true and dedicated ones

Those who care about and those I care about

I'm trying to write but not in my book;

For it is not here

I try but people wonder about me

I laugh and wish they would leave me alone

I can't write, not with these people wondering

Just leave me alone

And I'll entertain

And when the truth in my book hits home

You will never feel the same

untitled (1989)

they say I am a dreamer

would you believe them?

spend some time with me

and I'll make you fall in love

I'll make you see our heavens above

I'll entertain you

I'll surprise you

don't expect anything common from me

because I won't give it to you

The King of the Night (1989)

You are the light of the night;

You create visible patterns

Upon my quilted blanket,

Filtering through the blinds.

You stir my conscience

Wondering how you became:

The night was dark,

The people were afraid.

Why was day so blindingly bright

While night the extreme opposite?

People wondered.

Then the mighty stars brought you out

You shone proudly

Guiding all through the dark;

You help set up a scene

For cemeteries and graveyards;

You create a romantic setting

For your two admirers, deeply in love.

To let gray clouds cover you

Would be considered a sin,

And should those gray clouds darken our nights

Thunder and lightening would help fight

your battle and win

A golden crown, fit for a king,

you should wear,

right above your winking eye.

Being modest, you refused

Modest you say?

Not at all, not I

The Hawaiian

From the land unknown

He stands strong and alone

With Kahilis reminding each and everyone

That his rank cannot be undone

Mind, body and soul; he is completely naked

Maka'ainana respects the decisions he makes,

Placing kapus on which he considers to be sacred.

Repeated chants, so consecrated and religious

Acknowledging the Gods of Nature

Its' sacredness lead him to be conspicuous

Physically intact, he finds time for leisure

His solid frame enables him for a time of war

Feet planted firmly on the ground,

Any offense will cause no emotional scar.

©1988

Channeling Poe

What's an English class in high school without studying the infamous American writer, Edgar Allen Poe?  After the class read and critiqued Poe's last complete poem "Annabel Lee," we were instructed to compose our own edition.

Annabel Lee

We were both young

So young and so in love

That growing up never seem

Worth thinking of

I loved her with a passion

A passion that couldn't be denied

Was this the reason why

She had to leave me so

She left me standing

All alone

My heart filling full of doubts

And no home

Apparently at sixteen years of age, I mostly thought that poems were written to sound like an 80s pop song.  Not until many years later that I grew more comfortable in my own skin that I then became more comfortable with the words and rhythm of poetry.