Make it
Write
Poetry & Prose
April 1999
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Watching
by Claire, 14
beensie@tpgi.com.au
I wait in the shadows
I hide in the dark
I watch the world changing
I listen for the cries
I watch for the darkness
I wait for the night
I listen for my demons
Riding through the sky
But they never begin
Their ride down to earth
For someone is waiting
And watching over me
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Angels
by Claire, 14
beensie@tpgi.com.au
An angel watches over me
Keeps me safe, protects me
Comforts me, helps me
Teaches me, reprimands me
Acts as my friend
Scolds me, hugs me
An angel watches over me
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Empty Sorrow
Skye, 15
suprsky182@aol.com
It is so quiet without you here,
it hurts...
My eardrums ache, begging for sound,
for the comforting sound of
your voice
Because all I have now to save me
is my confusion
It is the only thing I have to keep
me company.
I don't know how to live without you
I am fifteen but feel
the burden of someone a hundred
My soul is old
and I am tired
I sleep only to dream
dreams of you
I plead with you to stay
Your eyes danced, your smile embraced me
Only to whisper, "I must go."
Now I struggle to keep a firm
grip on your hand, your smell
your touch...
But, you are slipping through
my fingertips
There is no life to live
when you are gone
no laughter
no smiles
No sorrow greater than this
There is no sorrow greater than this.
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Untitled
Skye, 15
suprsky182@aol.com
to this body you once
belonged
lingering among my boughs,
and curves
like a kingdom that you
ruled,
a sanctuary where you
dwelled
to this mind you once
belonged,
questioning the patterns,
and rhythms
like a mouse in a
maze,
searching for the key
to open the door
to this heart you once
belonged
overwhelming the feelings
that pump with the blood
absorbing the oxygen
with love
like a disease invading
the cells
a plague infesting
a town
but to this person you never
belonged,
the muscles and bones stand
too strong,
the head is held too high,
like a warrior in the
battle
a survivor of the
fight
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In The Darkness
Skye, 15
suprsky182@aol.com
The depression seeps in slowly...
first your fingertips, your hands
then traveling to your stomach, your heart
and finally, your brain
You cry yourself to sleep
in a dark corner of fear...
Flying through your delusions, as if
they were all reality
The silence chokes you once again
The confusion overwhelms
your senses
Desperately you hope that
maybe today,
today the storm will pass
The ice will melt
Yet you open your eyes, as always
to the lonely, isolated world
around you
full of screaming people...
who can't be heard
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Reality
Carolyn Loewen, 13
karmicturtle@sprint.ca
She appears perfect
beautiful.
I am jealous of this girl
but only the way she is on the
outside.
Inside is torment
haunting past lives
and myself.
But there is also joy
the soul of a
goddess
who worships herself.
Where the future contains only the uncertain
past
it can only be
remembered in a place where what is to be
remembered is
the future.
She does not understand what is indside
her
that when we pray to God we are really praying
to ourselves.
And each time we converse with our souls
it gets stronger
and eventually realizes that it is a humble
goddess looking for a
superior
when in reality there is no superior
But when the beautiful one dies
the soul is left
but the uncertainty
and confusion
have died with the outside.
and we realize that the only reality
is what the soul
dreams
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