Poetry

I found some poems that I wrote in school back in the day.

Fear

Is it under the bed,

Or is it the creaking door?

Is it in the closet,

Or on the dark, empty floor

Through the darkness, shapes are forming

In the mind or are they real?

Try to sleep until the morning

But another creak resounds

Shrinking down because of fright

Cowering beneath the blankets

Reaching over to get the light

Nothing there, at least for now

Bored

Sitting up against a wall

Waiting for something to do

Staring at a clock tick by

Nothing coming into view

Laying down on the floor

Hours pass by with no sign

Trying to think of what to do

But nothing comes to mind

Still staring at the clock

And then a minute goes on

Only a minute has passed

But still there is nothing to do

What is a tragedy?

Is it when one’s time shouldn’t be through,

Or when one has left many regrets?

The latter I think is more of the worse.

These two I know then did not end

In tragedy, but lived each day

Among friends, amid laughter.

Sad we feel for our separation

But hope for a time not too far.

When we will all be back together,

For Friends are friends forever.