Jane Meyer

Jane Meyer Poems

<font color=darkviolet>Another one for Cassandra.

15 minutes
spent playing the guitar,

<font color=darkviolet>The air between us is taut
as a bow strung
ready to fire
given the slightest provocation.

<font color=darkviolet>As women,
why are we never satisfied?
If our hair is brown,
we want blonde.

<font color=darkviolet>Don’t mistake me for a brat,
For I’m certainly not that.
But I do like people to pay attention,
When I have something I’d like to mention.

“Weekend”—how I scoff at that archaic term,
I’m not sure—but I think
it refers to a time many days past
when periods of work were measured



<font color=darkviolet>I am an artist,
but I’m not a painter.
I’m not one who makes a canvas beautiful,
but my smock and face a mess.

<font color=darkviolet>The woods are like a symphony
playing their ever-lasting song.
To some it’s just cacophony,
but for me it is never wrong.

<font color=darkviolet>This came to me as a song and it is written as a song, so use your imagination. I’ll edit if I ever find the songs that I stole the tune from.

I won’t give in.
You can’t break me.

<font color=darkviolet>“There’s something I want to tell you,
and I’ve been waiting to do it in person.
So I think I should say it now,
‘ case things between us should ever worsen.

I leave,
fly from the room
with tears streaming down my face.
I run away from the problem,

<font color=darkviolet>Eyes are a window,
a stained glass window,
each one completely unique:
the colors and patterns

<font color=darkviolet>Life is fire
Some flames burn brightly,
sparking and erratic,
continuously fueled by adventure and excitement.

<font color=darkviolet>You and me
were meant to be

<font color=darkviolet>My heartbeat flares
at any mention of that name.
And after that first glance,
I knew I’d never be the same.

It began with one line.
Then grew to something powerful;
A wondrous piece of art.

<font color=darkviolet>So much depends on pain,
For pain is a warning,
It lets us know when we get too close,
To that flame that’s bright and burning.

(Just me and my sister messing around before a psychiatrist appointment. She wrote the first stanza and I pretty much wrote everything else.)

I don’t care
if she lives or dies.


<font color=darkviolet>Sitting in a dark room,
completely alone,
not a single light.

<font color=darkviolet>I hate the sound of a ticking clock.
On and on it goes,
never ceasing,
never changing.

Jane Meyer Biography

(Recommendations below!) I'm sorry. I had to change my name. But I'm still the same person! And I'll change it back after a couple of things blow over. So sorry about any confusion! Recommendations *15 Minutes I’m! Not! Go-ing! To! (Song) If I Were to Tell Him, This is How I’d do it *Ignored My Life, or What’s Left of It My Love (school assignment 8th) The Only Thing My Mom Said That Went In (Quote) *These Green Hills (school assignment 8th) As Women My Real Name’s as Good as a Pen Name Our. First. Kiss. (Song) And then anything on the last page. The best stuff is always on the last page. I wouldn’t recommend the 7th seventh grade school assignments except for the two clerihews, “Fat Dog” and “Worm Trouble”. And I know if I’m telling you not to read them, why put them up? Well, I don’t know if I have any devoted readers, or if I do how devoted you are, but those poems are so anyone can see how far I’ve come. Most of my seventh grade poems suck and they’re the reason that I hated poetry, but I’ve changed and it’s there for anyone who wants to see it. New Poems Worth Reading *Eternal Peace I have lots of other poems that I didn’t recommend, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t worth reading. The ones listed are just a few favorites and the ones with the * are my all-time favorite.)

The Best Poem Of Jane Meyer

*15 Minutes

<font color=darkviolet>Another one for Cassandra.

15 minutes
spent playing the guitar,
reading a book,
watching TV,
talking on the phone,
surfing the web,
swimming in a pool,
laughing with friends,
eating dinner,
taking a shower,
planting a tree,
working my hardest,
performing for an audience,
thinking about life,
writing my thoughts.

My life has had a great many “15 minutes, ”
yet I can still pick out the worst.

15 minutes
spent listening to your rasping breaths,
feeling your heartbeat weaken,
realizing I’m soaked in your blood,
waiting for supposed help,
letting tears roll down my checks,
wiping my nose on my sleeve,
begging you to live,
looking into your unfocused eyes,
praying for you chest to rise again,
hoping for a miracle,
willing to do anything to help you,
thinking about the pain you must be in,
wishing you had been just two inches to the left,
trying to calm your spasms,
stroking you broken form,
wanting to do so much more for you,
regretting my mistake,
knowing things won’t be alright,
watching as you die.

(It was a 15 minute car ride from my house to the vet’s office, where there was nothing that could be done to save Cassandra. She was only 7 and a half weeks old when she died and it was all my fault.)

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