We Are Who We Are

Hello blogging world! I know it's been a long, long while. I have written poetry throughout this extended departure. And I'm back to share some of it with you, Internet Friends!

We Are Who We Are

The Engineer

Builds and creates.

He solves the problems,

He fixes.

The Mediator 

Calmly compromises 

Between multiple sides

In order to resolve

An issue

The Wall.

An inhibitor,

Stopping the flow of

Peace

Restricting

The balance.

But of no fault of her own

Acceptance

Of ourselves

And each other,

In who we are,

What we do,

How we do it.

A lesson that needs to be learned

But also,

Flexibility 

In creating variations of oneself

So as to not completely 

Stop

But at least

Try,

Try.

Try to make things better.

A Never-ending Cycle

Never-ending Cycle

History

Is doomed to repeat itself

A statement

That could not be more true

Than truth itself

Mistakes

All have been made

Yet many more to come

Guilt resides

In every part of my being

Actions

Thought of

Not ever carried out

For fear

Of failure

But failure

Makes one

Stand on their own feet

As they learn

And move onward

New

Lessons are learned

By trial

And error

Falling

And standing up

But I believe

I speak some truth

When I say

That most

Mistakes

Are the ones

That

Are repeated

Again

And again

And again once more.

A Wonderful Journey

In English, my class had to write sonnets and a friend of mine's really caught my attention. It's very creative and witty. I hope you enjoy it!

I shall try to explain what I mean to this world

As I attempt this, you must collect all clues

I give happiness to all boys and girls

I spread joy and give everyone the blues

I take you to all magical places

I give you the mighty gift of laughter

Meeting people with many new faces

Informing you what happens thereafter

But that is not the only thing I do

As I can take many dark twists and turns

Filling you with misery and dead hopes too

Engulfing you in pain, for freedom one yearns

The tale ends no, as I do what I please

What am I? You may ask, a book, you see.

A Flourish of Hate

My brother and I sat down and wrote a poem together. This is what we ended up with. Any thoughts?
What do you think we are referring to?

As I stepped out of the ruins,

I saw one of their kin;

A monster,

A murderer,

Who had, and will continue to, take many

Innocent lives.

He raised his arm, whose hand

Held a rifle,

But with a push and shove

I threw it aside

As my rage took over

And I went to the Beyond.

Rage aside,

I had only one task

Ahead of me.

As one last

Flourish of hate

Swept through me,

I picked up a rifle from a dead soldier

And shot him

Straight through his cold-blooded

Heart.

My task,

Now completed.

My Anonymous

I'm SO sorry it's been too long since I last posted a poem but I'm back now! And hopefully with some nice new ideas. If anyone has any suggestions, as you know, please comment to let me know.
Here's my latest poem for you and I, personally, am not too big a fan of love poems and whatnot but I was reading a novel and it just came to me. It's not extra cheesy but somewhere along the lines of a love poem. Thoughts?

She told me, "don't leave the house, it's not safe."

So of course, I leave the house

Doors are locked, I'm in the wild

Walking to the city, feeling something

Behind me

When I turn, nothing's there

Suddenly, I get tangles up in vines, someone cuts me out

Though when I turn, I see

No one

In the city, strange men give me things

Poison

One step and all I see

Blackness

I awake, one worried face above me, my cure

I blink, the face disappears

I get up, walk, think, remember

That face

That reminds me of home

Who protects me without me knowing

Who seems to be with me without being there

I think of the face

And look up to see

Home, I'm home, safe

Running to the porch,

I see him

The face

And I realize, I've always been home

Always been safe,

When I was hurt, when I was caught, when I was in danger

My anonymous was always there

That One Thing

I know that sometimes, what I write isn't necessarily poetry but my definition of poetry includes expressing one's feelings and this is how I feel. Not always as poetic as a person may think poetry to be. 

The joy in doing that one thing

Where you forget everything else

Any tests, any problems, any stress

In losing yourself to something that is not harmful to you

Yet is still your drug

Something that you are positively addicted to
Think of the power in that one thing

That one thing that you would give almost anything to never stop

For one, that one thing may be taking pictures of early blooming flowers in cool mornings

Or speaking to huge, enthusiastic crowds

Or dancing to your favorite song

Or even simply reading a book

But in the end

It is

That one thing

That is our motivation

To just keep on going

To go to sleep at night to wake up to a brilliant sunrise

To keep on working everyday for seven straight hours

Or to just take another step forward

That one thing

That fuels us under the sun and lets us rest beneath the moon

That one thing

Making our day and keeping a smile on our face

Even on the gloomiest days

That one thing

Makes such a difference

Puzzling Words

The last piece of advice

Do not go gently in to the good night

Infinite thoughts, endless nights

What has this been advised for?

Who? When? Why?

It took many evening walks and

Dreams in the day to understand

Those precious words

Seared in my mind, my heart, my soul

And the moment I realized what

They mean, I kept faith in them

What they meant for me to never forget

Was to keep on fighting

For those I loved, for my beliefs,

For truth, and most of all,

To never stop fighting

For myself

For no one can control us

Except

Ourselves