Hi, I'm Emily.
If any of my poems are doubles, please let me know. I'm extremely unorganized with my poetry.
Also, please comment suggestions and rate. Inspiration could come from anywhere, maybe even from you. more »
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Emily Beck Poems
I Was Playing with Crayons When Yellow C...
They wear their yellow garments As the smoke rises from the street Gray and thick and ashy and it bellows with deceit. They are walking to and fro
Hello, Lonely Moose of the Forest
She sat on a broken tree. Years ago fallen across a dried up river bed. Now covered in green moss and yellow mushrooms. The sound of each life was the sound of her own.
The Boy Who Bought Me Roses
I see you've sent me pictures Where you kiss the one you love. As if I should apologize For the tears I never shed.
Foraged in times of thick black soot, winded is the soul they say It oozes out of eyes and ears, unable to see nor hear Infecting every orifice, it is the cancer within The elk of tomorrow have come today
I awoke to find my life in mighty jaws, A sharp-toothed beast. His reddish teeth were sinking Deeper into my already tattered soul.
There's Some Good Nuts in this Nut Mix.
I decided to sit down, close my eyes, and write a poem. My teacher told me 'Follow the midget'. I don't know if you can get past your fidgets
Words Are as Useless to the Blind as The...
If most of us have a destiny To spend time burning, I would like to spend mine On the surface of the sun.
Until Tomorrow Morning (Rough)
I wish I could delete All the memories there are of me. And just start all over again. Because people say scary things,
They gather up to form dancing ripples, Shimmering scales make streaks against the ocean's tides. They travel by the millions, all together, Forming one solid-looking mass,
You spend an evening among feathers Bobbing and swaying in particular postures. Speaking through dancing and singing Body language is universal.
Let Me See What You See
She fell to her knees before me. Her head down like a pathetic wolf. The stain of a tear on the floor. Lifting her head with vile anger;
It Rained Today
That fuzzy haired teacher stood before us. His fist elegantly pressed into his side. Asking big questions, he paused. Pressing his fingers to his forehead,
What's Oxygen But a Double Bond?
What an accent, For a bubble trapped. Fathoms of water separating it from its people. Dragged down - down - down by squids and jellies,
That's Funny When You Hear It Out Loud.
That impermeable shell of sorrow and self-pity. It drips a veil of tears around your face, Crystallizing water molecules around your heart. Because all you ever wanted had the chance to walk away
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
I Was Playing with Crayons When Yellow Caught Fire
They wear their yellow garments
As the smoke rises from the street
Gray and thick and ashy and it bellows with deceit.
They are walking to and fro
Staring at the ground
One thing they will never know
Is how to turn around.
And today they won’t see day light
The smoke will choke the sky
And none of them will notice
They just keep on walking by.
Today the ocean will be empty
Not a fish will breathe
And none of them will notice
‘Cause they're buried underneath.
Flocks of geese are flying north
To avoid the coming storm
And not one of them will ...