Elevation: Everest

Hi, guys. Sorry about the delay getting a new poem up for you guys to take a read at. It's been sort of a slow couple of months for both of my blogs, but this poem should crack the ice. This poem is called Elevation: Everest. I wrote this poem about watching a couple of documentaries about Mount Everest and after seeing the ever-so majestic mountain, a poem is what I wrote up. Hope you guys enjoy this Everest (ever-lasting) poem.

Elevation: Everest

It was too cold one day.
The day that made everything smooth.
Atop that mighty peak ahead
Lay the great Mount Everest.

I chose to ride a part of the mountain
To see a magnificent view
And below, I saw, what I couldn't be.
The valley that new beneath me.

The temples lay shrined as new as gold.
The peaks over the ridge as sharp as teeth.
The great lakes I saw ahead
Made me remember the ones back home.

I spent only one day up that Everest ridge.
Before I took my cables off
I hiked down to Earth again.
Ready to look back up and see Everest a shine.

Feet on Thin Ice

Hey, poets. I'm back with a new poem for you and this one is probably one of my favorites. I wrote this in the winter of 2008, when I was still learning how to ice skate so I could better understand ice hockey (which I blog about on my MLS and NHL insight blog) Anyway, enjoy this great poem.

Feet On Thin Ice

It is a cold and winter day and you step out.
That house that was once warm and full of merry.
Now surrounded by ice and snow that covers the ground.

I sit down at the edge of a lake nearby.
I look out across it, gazing at the incredibly thin ice.
For a moment, the ice stays there.
Then the feet start to move.

I stepped onto the thin ice, my feet feeling grim.
Every step, every inch, feeling like breaking ice again.
No cracks in the ground, no cold water to come in.
It was something I hadn't expect to begin.

The ice cracked then, pouring out in all angles.
I stopped for a moment, panicked and scared.
The ice sheets moved, taking me along with them.
There, I saw the cold water as still as can be.

I leap to the land and landed in the pool.
The shivers came to me, my teeth stone-cold.
They clattered and shook and scared my poor mouth.
That I couldn't dare to be thrown out.

I got out quick and ran back to the house.
To the warmth and the merry that I almost forgot.
I stepped inside quietly and completely shut the door.
Never to step out again onto the thin ice that got me.

Gush of Wind

"Gush of Wind" is my second poem on the hot summer day that Northern California had a couple days back. Although this poem seems a little mixed in terms of heat and wind, the wind is the main theme in this party. This is maybe not one of my best poems. Enjoy "Gush of Wind."

Gush of Wind

A long hot day in the sun
Kids ran into streets and behind corners
They laughed, talked, and played with others.
Like there was nothing else in the world.

I was too hot to play, the sweat breaking in.
Summer starts and I feel it all so well.
So that's when it came, the thing I want most.
That little gush of wind was my last hope.

It came with no time to spare.
And blew the hair out of my eyes.
It felt good and it felt fresh.
To finally see some coolness there.

The sun kept bright and the wind had just died.
And though I felt sad and I felt I want more.
There was just something I couldn't point to.
That one moment that wind will come again.

Thing of Heat

This poem I wrote just a few days ago. It was so hot that day that I decided to write two poems out of it. The second poem will be posted sometime in the next few days. Meanwhile, enjoy this first poem about heat.

Thing of Heat

I stumbled around, feeling my way
The heat overcame me

My face lit up with sweat and tears
I couldn't see where I was going

Things felt far and things felt near
My hand reached it and toppled something over

My face was almost thin, I was almost done
I ran to the bedroom, stumbling all around.

I reached my bedroom, the bed nearby
There I hit the bed, all ready to make its end

The heat was too much, and so it came
My eyes closed, no heat but blackness it became



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Done in the Senate

This poem actually has no true origin, but I based it off a place where ideas can't always be spread, such as in the Senate, where ideas are sometimes considered obsolete or not much of an impact. Anyway, enjoy this poem!

Done in the Senate

I sat in the Senate, surrounded by men of all ages and sizes
Some were old and some were new, but all knew what happens
The laws were broke, the laws were fixed.
I saw myself a victim of the inglorious fixation of life.

The last law was passed before I adjourned.
I thought about those men in front of me.
We are all not equal and we are all not different.
I thought I was trapped in the middle.

There was nothing to gain, nothing to prove.
Just sitting there wondering what to do.
And then I raised my hand, fingers inched high.
Saying, 'Senate, we are not equal.'

I told them I was done, to forgive me for what happened.
And left my seat to be sitted upon by someone who was not equal.
My time was at an end, one that I couldn't fix.
So I accepted the resignation and tore out through the front doors.

Free at last, free from that room.
The Senate was a mess, but I wasn't one anymore.
It was the last day I left and the last day I would ever see.
The world was upon me, ready to be fixed by me.

My Father, the Ghost

My Father, the Ghost is one of my poems that I've written in my freshmen year of high school. I got inspiration from this story from The Nightmare Before Christmas and as such created a poem that reflects the ideas of both family and paranormal activity. Hope you enjoy it!

My Father, the Ghost

I wandered the graveyard late at night
To visit my father who had passed away.
The night was chill, the air very brisk.
It made it seem like the night was set.

I made it to my father's gravestone.
And placed my knees in front of it.
I thought of thinking about God and life like that.
But my words from my mouth just went flat.

My father a good man, threatened by his own life
And sits under a stone, etched with his name.
The wind picks up and I feel some noise.
Something taps me, far from the behind.

I turned quick, my eyes set to shoot
And there it was, my father, right in front.
He waved and smiled and turned like a good fellow.
And then I knew he was my father, the ghost.

He waved once more and turned away.
The gravestone was there, all etched to stay.
I spoke with my father one time again.
And then I left, the ghost still fresh.



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Fish Out of Water

This poem is probably one of my earlier favorites. A long time ago, I was walking down a stream and I accidentally ran across a fish that was sitting on land, just blobbing up and down. I slipped it back into the water, but seeing the fish on land gave me an idea for a poem that I wrote and I'm sharing it with you now. Hope you enjoy it!

Fish Out of Water

A lively fish hopped off a stream, no water in tow.
It sat on land, flipping and flopping away.
There was no signs of human life, as far as his eye can see.
So its next best move was to move upstream.

It flipped and flopped, saw and seen, next to upstream.
The rushing water flew by, the other fish in tow.
It looked back once to see them go.
And then it continued its flow.

A human came by to cross the stream.
The fish yelled out, 'Take me!'
The human heard him and came by close.
'What are you doing?' it said to the friendly float.

'I'm fish out of water' it said.
The human laughed and took it by the hand.
'I'll let you back in,' he said.
The fish held the human strong and tight.
As he prepared for the moment of sight.

He let the fish go, on top of the stream.
It splashed to the ground in smithereens.
'Good-bye,' he said, waving back.
The human crossed the river and gave him a smile.

The human left and the fish was alone.
But all that mattered now, as he was now.
A fish in water, no longer its stranger.