A couple more poems

This first poem was written in my Creative Writing class right after one of my teammates was killed by a drunk driver and is about her. She was fifteen years old at the time. In order for this to make sense you should probably know that her favorite color was purple and she absolutely loved yellow ducks.

African Violets
A small garden of purple
A small tree with a bird
A small flower stands tall
Unlike any other
Jumps out of the crowd
Of the garden of purple

The lines etching the veins
The droplets trickle from the eye
The yellow bird
Bright, startling, joyful
Stands out to the crowd
In this garden of purple

The garden is frosted
The purple fades
Seems only a memory remains
Of the garden of purple

But the bird lives on
The yellow was a blur
The life continues
Somewhere
In another garden of purple



The following poem was written in the same Creative Writing class. It is just a random poem that I wrote mostly to fill up space. Nonetheless, it seems to get a chuckle out of most people who read it.

Life of a Styrofoam cup
Woken up in the morning by suffocating plastic
It’s a great thing to have no lungs
A great life to have a small purpose
My friend went to a party
I bet that was a blast
I didn’t hear from her again
But particles of her will forever live on
Another went to a funeral
I bet he was filled with Sunny D.
Someone died and they still fill him with
Cheap orange juice
My bag has just been bought
On no! there’s a little kid
They gave up on the sippy cups
My last moments being digested
By a two year old future eating contest winner
And he’s starting with the Styrofoam cup