Akara K. Poems

What is poetry?
Poetry is many things
But there are far more things that poetry is not
Poetry is not a style of writing
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There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile
He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile
He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse
And they all lived together in a little crooked house
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A color too deep for comprehension
It is the hue of the bright morning sky
The calmness it brings relieves all tension
Such a happy shade, the tint of a sigh
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Strip me of my laugh, strip me of my smile,
Strip me of everything I wanted to be;
Strip me of my false pretense, and
Then all you've got left is me.
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It's a Northern winter wonderland
Happy couples walking hand in hand
Department stores aglow with lights
Christmas trees always in sight
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When I die
I hope that they'll bury my ashes
And plant a tree there
A strong tree that will grow tall
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Funny how
Adults always seem to think
That they're so much smarter
Than kids
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I strongly believe
With all my heart
That everything happens
For a reason.
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I didn’t know what to do.
When you just showed up
And said you were sorry
I was shocked
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All I wanted was your heart.
I tried so hard to be what you wanted
I did everything for you, was everything just for you
But still you pushed me away
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