Belated Poetry

I can't believe I never ended up posting these after I was done.  Here are the poems that I wrote for EN 215 in September of 2010.  The first two use the "every other line" rhyming convention.  The third is of the more experimental variety.  It kind of has a beatnik feel to it.  Anyways, without further adieu...MY POEMS! 

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Past

Sitting all alone on this cool September eve,

Thinking oh so fondly of my past.

Going back in time to days of Ol’ when plans were new,

And the innocence of youth was still in tact;

When dreams were still a brewing waiting idly in their pots

For days to come when plans would hatch or maybe they would not.

Though all that didn’t matter way back then when we were young

We only cared for play, for the sticking out of tongues

But oh how I know better now as sad as that may be

The truth has settled in my brain at last.

Sitting here all by myself this cool September eve,

Thinking oh so fondly of my past.

The Music All Around

Hear the music all around

Like wind beneath your feet.

It whistles and toots and hums and pounds,

A symphony complete.

The Clarinets and Oboes

Are the whistlers of the group.

They tend to warm the soul

As do the Piccolos and Flutes.

Violins are in there also

Playing out their role

Bows gliding up and down their strings

Striking sweet melodic chords.

The Trumpets, Saxes and Trombones

All join to do their part,

Playing out the harmony

Which leads us to the heart.

Percussion is the heartbeat

That keeps the tune alive

The heartbeat of the sound

Of things and people going by

It’s in the steps and stomps from feet

Of people walking past

Or in the flutter of a flag

Up high upon its mast.

Hear the music all around

It’s everywhere you go

All you have to do is listen,

To the heartbeat of your soul.

Time Fleeting In Plenty

The time is ticking by

Seconds tick, tick, tock.

Minutes follow after,

Not as often but still many

Hours seem to be the longest.

After hours it’s still longer yet, except it goes by faster

Days pass as though only hours have taken place

Weeks are the more devious of characters

They seem long but then they’re gone.

Months are similar in nature

Only slightly more conniving

And then years come, the worst of all,

So many months and weeks and days

All those things wrapped into one

Each going by at their own rate

But then a year has gone by

Until years have passed

Until there is no more time.