Another creative writing assignment... based on Langston Hughes': Theme for English B:
http://www.eecs.harvard.edu/~keith/poems/English_B.html
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Of right and wrong a world begins.
The beings of heaven hover as
The elixir of life showers atop our heads...

I write down my dreams, draw of mythology and past.
Music flows magically from my fingers and my eccentric characters,
angry from being weighed down all day,
show their stripes on stage; combining,
their silver mist dissolves and glare red,
desiring freedom enough to possess me.

I enjoy solitude and silence deafens my ears pleasantly.
While I am this,
I am shrouded in confusion, yearning, free speech, and life; tears, fear and death.
My everlasting love for my parents and family stay with me everywhere I go and I know
He smiles silently upon me; I feel the love that radiates from him.

A cadaverous, pale spirit harboring randomly spaced jewels that sparkle maliciously,
teasing playfully.
I am cold and callous.
I am lost.
But I realize the presence of pernicious ways in my personality-
its flaws and torn edges, worn from time.
A soul that feels ancient,
torpid and set in its old ways of shyness and the production of expectations that are too great.

Often caught in a breeze
I deeply breathe in wisps of purity scented of soil, earth, freshly cut grass,
and even the hints of oncoming rain.
My eyes tend to stare blankly into the sky,
just trying to catch sight of the invisible and hear the words I've longed for forever.
The shapes of creatures not yet named exist in the clouds and stay imprinted on my memory
as they gingerly float by.
How hard I've searched that ocean so frequently.

There is power that rises so swiftly through my veins,
surging forcefully to the point of pain.
I see crimson blood flow,
shadowing my sight and leaving a light tinge that bleach will never take care of.
The scarlet-stained dirt ahead is saturated and cakes together before my every step.
My scars sting and burn like salt on a wound;
those wretched flames grow higher and lick at my ankles.
I see him and all he's done for me;
so much that I'll never be able to repay.
The warmth spreads from my toes and all becomes well.
I don't worry much now for I make sure those
whispered words are heard by him well into the night'¦

There is a moment of enlightenment in life,
When one finds that
The discovery of self is
A long journey indeed.
Piled high with boulder, rocks, pebbles,
Of confusion, grief, pressure'¦
They crush the mind, leaving indescribable damage until suddenly,
All regenerates, forms, and gains identification'¦
And the spirit then dissolves them all
To dust'¦.

I am one who's frightened.
Observing the catastrophic happenings'¦
Incidents bringing pain and sorrow, destruction,
CLARITY.
Proof of a higher spirit present'¦
A realization that makes minds clench.

In the public halls or the schools days,
I notice more wrongdoing than I care to remember.
In my mind, I am one to examine all with a blank face quiet disposition
if I am to convincingly hide my true sorrow.
It allows my throat to burn with a rage in private for
He knows how I feel;
the exact count of tears I've shed.

There isn't enough here to hold us until the end, but what we have is hurtling us toward a close much faster than we could ever contemplate. We WILL suffer for what we've done and what we will do.


We are closer than we think-
and that is the cause of my anguish.
It has begun with the growth of roots that grasp my heart and mind deeply,
stirring my need and desire to help...
my need for a change.
My conclusion begins and ends with a devotion to a being that is much more than me.
I adore and cherish him...
He is MY beginning and end and all that I see.
All that I will ever see.
This is me.

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