Poem: Sitting In My Tree

Hello, friends! It’s Monday, which means a post! This semester, I’m taking a class on American Poetry, and that made me think about my poetry class from last year. So this week, I thought I’d share a fun poem that I wrote for that class. I hope you enjoy it!

Sitting In My Tree

C.B. Cook

 

No one notices me

sitting in my tree.

 

I look down as

people walk past,

eyes down,

not looking around,

and no one bothers

to turn their eyes UP.

 

If they did, they might

see me in the morning light,

admiring how the sun

sets that one

green leaf ablaze

with golden fire.

 

But instead, I look out,

a secret spying scout,

safe in my cave of leaves

because no one really sees

beyond my shield

and I’m smiling because

 

no one notices me

sitting in my tree.

I hope you enjoyed that poem! I did, in fact, write it while sitting in a tree. 😀 I know most people either love poetry or hate it, so what’s your opinion on poetry? Do you like writing it or reading it better?

Stay safe, have a good week, and don’t forget to wear your mask! ❤

Poem: The Sun

Hullo, friends! My schedule has been a little off the past couple of weeks, but I’m back again today with your regularly scheduled Tuesday post! If you missed it, around a week ago I posted about Twinepathy‘s birthday and the cover reveal sign-ups for IDIA #3, so if you’re interested in participating in that, definitely check out that post (or just fill out the form here). Today’s poem is more of a sad one–another one that I wrote for class. Hope you enjoy! (Also, there’s an important question at the end of this post, so make sure and comment your thoughts!)

 

The Sun 

C.B. Cook

 

The sun rose that morning,

a day like any other,

but it didn’t rise for her.

 

She poured her coffee in the kitchen.

Warm golden light enveloped her,

but she moved to the bedroom,

shunning the warmth.

 

The bedroom was dark,

lonely.

She embraced it because

it matched the heavy,

shadowy grief

weighing on her soul.

 

She flipped a switch

and the light buzzed overhead.

There was his bed,

his desk,

the stack of video games

his father had given him

instead of visiting.

She traced the squares of the quilt on the bed,

finally letting the tears fall.

 

The sun rose that morning,

but her son didn’t rise with it.

 

What did you think of that poem? And for the important question I mentioned earlier: if I put out a poetry collection, would you be interested in reading it? Comment below with your thoughts!

Poem: real

Once again, I’m dipping into the poems I wrote this past semester for my poetry class! This poem was really fun to write, and it’s a bit of a precursor to the post I plan to post next week about writing superheroes. Hope you enjoy!

real

c.b. cook

 

a small man

in a too-big suit

fights a man in an alley

who is too big

for him to beat

 

a broken woman

burdened by her past

mistakes tries

to erase them

by doing good

 

a sad man

with lots of money

drowns his sorrows

and PTSD

in alcohol

 

the small man

becomes a big man

who fights for good

even when he’s lost

all the things he loves

 

the broken woman

gives hope

saves a friend

and the world

by giving up her soul

 

the sad man

finds a new purpose

a true love

real friends

and gives them his life

 

 

not real

but real

and struggling

just like us

and maybe

that’s why

we like

superheroes

so much

 

What did you think of this poem? Do you know which superheroes these all are? Comment down below with your thoughts!

Poem: Falling

Hello, friends! Look who’s sticking to their schedule (so far)! Today I thought I’d share another poem that I wrote in my poetry class. Sometimes we had prompts, sometimes we didn’t, but the prompt for this poem was “death.” I had written a sad poem the week before, so I though I would add a twist to the end of this one. Just a note, this was written in February or March of this year. Hope you enjoy!

 

Falling

C.B. Cook

 

His best friend was dying.

 

He’d seen it happen to others.

Her skin turned a sickly shade,

her skin was too dry

and even though she denied it,

he could tell

she was barely hanging on.

 

Then it happened.

Falling,

sinking,

she shrunk away,

dropping to rest under their tree.

 

If he could cry, he would.

He felt himself beginning to fade, too,

and found it harder to hold on.

He longed

to join her

in the earth

below.

 

But,

as he watched,

a toddler with a bright red cap

picked his best friend off the ground

and proclaimed,

“My leaf!”

 

What did you think of that poem? Do you like poetry? Comment down below and let me know what you think!

Poem: Too Fast

Well, hello, friends! Look who’s posting something more than once a month! As I mentioned earlier this year, I have a poetry class this semester where I have to write a poem once a week. I’ve found that I actually enjoy writing poetry sometimes, as long as I get to write about something that makes sense to me. So here’s a poem that I wrote before spring break (and coronavirus), that I thought I’d share with all of you! Enjoy!

 

Too Fast

C.B. Cook

 

Slow.

Down.

You’re too busy.

 

You’re always running around with your head turned down to your phone and working on homework and going to work and wasting time while you keep going and going and going and never taking a breath or stopping and never taking time to actually look at the people around you while you’re absorbed in your own little life not even noticing how the days and months flit past you and no matter what I do I can’t get you to

 

look

up.

 

See the stars.

See the clouds.

Breathe in the

fresh, clean air

after the rain.

See the sunset

reflected in the pond,

setting the water ablaze.

 

Just.

Stop.

Breathe.

 

So there’s the poem! What are your thoughts on poetry? Like it, love it, hate it? Let me know your thoughts in the comments below!

A Poem About Poetry

Hello, wonderful people! Long time no post, eh? College has been pretty crazy lately. This semester, though, I’m in a poetry class, and I’ve been enjoying it quite a bit! Since we’re required to write a poem every week, that also means that I have some writing to share with you guys. I hope you enjoy this poem, the first one that I wrote for the class. Now on to the poem!

 

It Was

C.B. Cook

 

It was pain.

I fumed inwardly,

glaring at the page,

struggling to form words,

ideas,

thoughts.

But the poem wouldn’t come.

Minutes passed.

A word came.

Then another.

Before long,

the page began to fill.

Lines about love,

anguish,

fear

sprouted from my soul.

I set down my pen

and smiled.

I looked back over my poem

and frowned.

It was word vomit.

 

I hope you enjoyed that poem! Let me know your thoughts in the comments below. And let me know what you’ve been up to!

Pessimist And Optimist

Hi, everyone! I thought you would enjoy reading this poem I wrote for a poetry contest (as in, almost a year ago). I didn’t win, unfortunately, but I did make it to the finals! Enjoy!

Pessimist And Optimist

The sun so hot,

I sweat,

I melt,

The days are long and humid.

 

The yard a mess,

I rake,

I sweep,

The leaves keep falling down.

 

The wind so cold,

I shiver,

I freeze,

My fingers nearly numb.

 

The birds so loud,

I weed,

I mow,

There’s so much work to do.

 

The sun so warm,

I bask,

I jog,

The sunshine soothes my soul.

 

The air so crisp,

I twirl,

I leap,

The leaves shed colors on the lawn.

 

The snow so bright,

I shape,

I throw,

The laughter fills the air.

 

The grass so green,

I plant,

I listen,

Nature’s music sings to me.

 

Sour or sweet,

Pushy or helpful,

Harsh or loving,

The pessimist’s view or the optomist’s.

What think you?

The Results Of A Contest And A Poem

No, this isn’t about my Super-Duper Fan Fiction Crossover Challenge… although I must point out I still haven’t received any entries… But no, this is about a contest I entered. A poetry contest. The finalists were announced today… and I made it to the finals.

I made it to the finals.

What???

The irony. I wrote the poem for fun, with little editing, and… I don’t even like poetry that much…

Ah, well. Here’s a sonnet I wrote for English a while back. Hope you enjoy!

 

Like The Flowing Sea

The ocean waves flow like the prairie grass.

They softly whisper on the sandy beach,

Then crash onto the rocks with violent speech

As the sand slides back in an hourglass.

Seaweed, clam shells, and sea water drift past,

And the fingers of waves stretch and reach.

The water flows and seems to beseech

The bright bold sun to turn it to glass.

Without the constant ebb and flow of life

We would not be able to learn and grow.

The long, strong struggles test you and me;

We will grow stronger through all the strife.

And by the ocean’s movement we will know

That life is so much like the flowing sea.

 

Big Red Flower

Big red flower,

How it blooms.

It brightens up

The evening’s gloom.

 

Like a bird

That spreads its wings,

The flower opens

And beauty springs.

 

How delightful,

Such beauty.

That God should give

To you and me.

 

Now you see it,

Now you don’t,

Last for ever?

No, it won’t.