The Sycamore

Walking through the wood

Hooves crunching on leaves

Brittle branches snapping below

Nose sticks up in the air

Sniffing

The smell in the air

The stag noticed it

Above all other scent

He looked, longingly, and wandered

The doe, the doe, the doe everywhere

The doe wandering, longing for the stag

The snow fall drops onto the deer

Like the tears that they cry

The tears cried when the longing is for the lost

The snow drops onto the stag

The stag goes on, goes on

He watches; pays attention

Every detail it watches

From the feather off to the right

That falls from the brown owl flying above

The brown owl leads his gaze

Towards the tree

The tree

The tree that sticks out most

Because that is the tree

The sycamore tree, living in the belly of pine

The forest of pine trees surrounds it

The sycamore being the meeting place

Of the doe that he longs for

The stag steps forward towards the tree

As he realizes

The beauty of the doe

Resides within him, for she is always there

As he realizes this, he knows to long no more

As the doe he desires puts down her head

Right next to his; brushes against him

The stag and the doe

The sycamore

In The End?

Poem dedicated to Chris (for the idea and inspiration, and has a fine last name :P) and a certain special friend in my life....

That one person

The one you would die for

Could you really die

For her when

She may not die for you

Does it matter if

She returns those feelings or not

Or is it just the love of the friendship

That counts?

But what if there is no

Friendship?

What if it's one sided?

What if it is just me

Missing her

The one who had saved me

Does she really matter

In the end

Do I matter to her

In the end?

The Entity Unique

Poem dedicated to Kayla Erickson.

He walks through the forest

Just and entity in time

Listening to the trees

The trees

They speak

To the entity unique

He crawls, he grovels, he goes on

Just for you

Just for the sake of the trees

The trees

Silhouettes of the darkness

The entity rids them all

And turns them back

Into green growing trees

To live a life worth growing for.

Poem Dedication

I have thought about starting to dedicate some of my poetry that either is inspired by someone or written about someone etc. Today is the day that I start dedicating poems that I am writing, if I feel they need to be dedicated.

A

This is a poem that made it into Shorewood HS Imprints last year, my original and first senior year. I wrote this near the beginning of the school year last year, but just now decided to post it.

This poem starts with an A,

Apple starts with an A,

Apples are red,

Meaning this poem is read.

Is It That Clear?

Is it worth it

to keep up faith

in that which is unfaithful?

Can we really hope

can we really dream

that it will all be ok?

Will it actually last

or will it plummet

into everlasting doom?

Does it really count

to hope and dream

or is it completely pointless?

The answers are clear

for a simple hopeless fellow

it is worth it

to wish...

Hypocritical Psychosis

I walk down the street
Thinking to myself

"Am I insane,

Or is it just an illusion?"

The insanity there

Is to make me different

Make me special

Make me significant.

I imagine a doctor

Letting me know nothing is wrong

And the disappointment I would feel

Knowing that I was typical, average.

Is it wrong to want to be insane

To feel the need to be diagnosed

As utterly and mentally

Psychotic?

I try to understand these feelings

That I may be completely normal

That I might just be filled with

Hypocritical psychosis.