MY FIRST POEM.
This past week I took my first crack at writing a poem, let me know what you guys think.
The Tree.
There grows a tree behind my house,
A tree does grow there.
This tree grows tall and black,
Its limbs are are always bare.
Its sap is red and flows freely,
A sight one must behold.
Souls travel far and wide,
To find where the sap is sold.
When travelers come in groups at large,
They buy all the stock.
They consume the sap with eager lust,
And they come back in flocks.
But when they come alone,
A wanderer in the night.
I bury them beneath the tree,
To keep the thing alive.
There grows a tree behind my house,
A tree does grow there.
Nic C.
The Tree.
There grows a tree behind my house,
A tree does grow there.
This tree grows tall and black,
Its limbs are are always bare.
Its sap is red and flows freely,
A sight one must behold.
Souls travel far and wide,
To find where the sap is sold.
When travelers come in groups at large,
They buy all the stock.
They consume the sap with eager lust,
And they come back in flocks.
But when they come alone,
A wanderer in the night.
I bury them beneath the tree,
To keep the thing alive.
There grows a tree behind my house,
A tree does grow there.
Nic C.
The 9th floor.
This is one I haven't been able to shake for nearly six months now. It is a horror/thriller story that is a modern twist on an old story come to life with a few extra turns along the way.
Professor Peterson.
This is a story I have picked at for a few years about a failed writer turned college professor. He is just about to retire when something, or someone, comes along and gives him something to write about.