Biography of Devon McElveen
I was born in Norwalk Hospital in Norwalk, Connecticut on April 3,1993. I started writing in 1st grade when my teacher gave us a writing assignment to see how well we wrote. Most people wrote nursery rhymes, but I wrote a short story of a crime that I had witnessed with my very eyes. My teacher had not seen such writing from a child of my age and I was soon transferred into accademically talented classes. I found that I was a gifted child who could write at the level of middle school pupils. As I grew older, my writing began to stregnthen and I began to write even deeper and leaned into the field of poetry Now, I am continuing to write as a practical way to relieve stress. Hopefully, my hobby will become something that I can pay bills with, and my name will be written into history as one of the best poets of my time. Also, my name, Devon, means poet (Celtic) .
Devon McElveen Poems
Recipe For War
1 Kilogram of Corruption 1.2 grams of Hatred 3 grams of Government 231 milligrams of Nationalism
Why do I enjoy this feeling? Is that really a question?
The Woman In The Red Dress
The woman in the red dress How I admire thee How could one walk with such grace And such beauty?
Dreams, Langston Hughes Tribute
As we dream We are forced to believe That anything we wish Can be conceived.
Leaving The Nest
A young bird leaves the nest, Searching for his calling. A calling that has elluded him While he has resided in his birthplace.
He sits there thinking, Listening and watching With eyes and ears That learn more with each passing.
My mind feels empty I must fill it with knowledge For knowledge is key
Living And Dying
I will meet my fate As you will yours. Our lives will wash away On the earth’s forgotten shores.
The Beauty Of Two Lives
We dare, travel into the darkness of despair? Continue to try when our limbs grow bare. This world we see is far from fair. While they fell around me, it watched and stared.
So much grief lies under Her cheery expressions. I did not know of The woes she had endured.
Might I See My End?
I can finally see my end… Are those words a man should speak? Should a man know the date of his demise Or how his body would suffer?
Venom spitting from her lips, Her words filled with rage. Muscles very tense, Anger built with age.
She brought me here,
A place I have never known.
A place in which
I will become grown.
In time I will learn
Who I am speaking of.
A bond will form
And evolve into love.
Her smile is wide