The Student News Site of Belfast Central School

The Belfast Beacon

The Student News Site of Belfast Central School

The Belfast Beacon

The Student News Site of Belfast Central School

The Belfast Beacon

Poetry Collection

Poetry+Collection

All these poems tell a story, either my own or imaginary. It’s how you take them that makes an impact.  I have taken a love and interest in the art of poetry and what it represents. One metaphor can be taken 100 different ways by 100 different people. That’s what I love to read and represent in my writing. 

Waiting 

You are waiting for someone 

Who is not coming back 

Meaning, 

You are living your life 

Hoping that someone will realize 

They can’t live theirs without you. 

 

Pretty 

I’m the type of pretty that only looks good when I show the left side of my face. 

I’ll never be the one that makes you turn your head and take a second glance. 

I’ll never be the one who floods your mind for the rest of the day thinking, 

“I missed my shot.” 

My friends tell me I’m not ugly, and I want to believe them. 

But I’m not the popular pretty that gets everyone’s attention, 

When I walk by their cold gaze. 

I only look good when I show the left side of my face. 

 

Bit 

I got bit by a snake for the first time. 

It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. 

Eventually that same snake bit me again, 

And again,  

And again, 

Until there was no more room on my skin  

From the scars it left me. 

 

Sacrifice 

The most beautiful flower stood tall and straight 

In an equally beautiful garden. 

Over time the flower fell in love with a weed, 

That had been growing next to her 

 

To keep the weed healthy and stand tall like her, 

She started giving the weed  

The only sunshine and water she had. 

 

It was hurting her, she knew that. 

 

The flower started wilting, 

The weed moved on, 

To a different, younger flower. 

 

Trying 

Nights seem endless to those who are tired. 

Sleep against hospital doors, 

Sleep in your classes, 

Never on that mattress. 

Home isn’t a sanctuary. 

Maybe it’s you, 

You’ve worked; but not enough. 

Maybe you don’t deserve it, 

Full night’s rest. 

Your mother is crying, 

Your father is trying. 

Why can’t you live for them? 

Why do you waste away, 

Hoping to wake up and be yourself. 

Like when you were little? 

And you seem to forget; you’re only 14. 

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