Anna Vera's Poems » Age 11 – Age 15

Fusion

Anna — Tue, 31 Jul 2007 17:24:00 +0000

Starlight, scientists have stated,

Is only glows, heat rays created

When two small unseen specks collide,

Becoming one. They haven’t lied.

For you and I can see the truth

That stars are made of pure-breathed youth.

Two tiny heartbeats, yours and mine,

Merge, unite, and make the stars shine.

- Written by Anna Williams at Age 15

Sheridan, Oregon

Let You Go

Anna — Wed, 27 Jun 2007 18:29:00 +0000

Let you go and set you free
Free
Free to be
from me.
Let it lie
Fly away.
Forever more
See the day
Close the door.
Forget the way I cling to you.
Forget the love I bring to you.
Happy happy you and me?
Let you go and let you be
Happy happy you and she
If that sets your happy free.
Follow the light. Swallow the dreams.
Keep the songs. Keep the we.
Hold it in your heart for me.

- Written by Anna V. Williams at Age 14

Blue Balloons

Anna — Thu, 21 Jun 2007 07:37:00 +0000

Into the captivity of your heart,
We let our blue balloons depart;
Into the twilight of the sky.
Into the night. Where our shadows still fly.

Three years later, too far from the sea,
Having escaped, having broke free,
No longer a lone poet, surrounded by boors,
I felt a lone virgin, surrounded by whores.

And now our balloons may have never been found,
Lying untouched, as I was, on the ground,
But still hold their meaning, in unwritten words,
Hopefully not having killed any birds.

I faded in comforted silence at last.
Silence like crystal. Silence like the past.
Steeped and forsaken, quiet anesthesia,
In the ambrosia of violent amnesia.

― Written by Anna Vera Williams at Age 17
Washington, D.C.

Slavia

Anna — Sun, 17 Jun 2007 06:51:00 +0000

My stomach burns
With the quaking tide,
When you play with my toes,
When you tickle my pride.

Take me away
To your far away land,
Buried like dust
In the prints of your hand,

Where your smile doesn’t crack,
And fade,
Before the hours
Draw into days.

I lay in the bed
Of a perfect stranger.
I played with his words,
Mimicking danger,

And he begged me to tell him
My endless verses,
Beneath the morning’s
Sleepless curses.

His fingers played
With the curve of my side.
I told him of
The day I died ―

A secret I guarded
So closely from you.
I told him the truth.
I told no one I knew.

Written by Anna Williams at Age 17
Washington, D.C.

I Slept in Beauty, Then Awoke

Anna — Sun, 17 Jun 2007 06:24:00 +0000

I slept in beauty — and awoke.
Then ugliness was mine.
That morning, yet, the wall between
My sleep and hellish wake was broke
And through a crack did shine
What peaceful, dormant eyes had seen:

A light just bright enough to show
Into this waking place:
A dream we call reality,
Not bright enough to cast a glow
Upon my darkened face,
Nor at hell’s immortality.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 15

Untouched

Anna — Wed, 06 Dec 2006 19:02:00 +0000

Untouched, unfelt, unheard, unseen,
Unlived, unlearned, unloved, unbeen,
I’ve wandered lonely in the night.
I’ve felt my footsteps turn in fright.
I’ve cried out singing, to the stars.
I’ve felt the light that beauty mars.

Reddened rainbows in the sun
Meant my worlds, and yet, not one.
Shattered dreams about my feet;
Shattered dreams incomplete.

As I pondered through the mountains,
I have met the crystal fountains.
I have seen the moonlight shining.
I have watched the stars refining.
Stumbling, broken, bare of glory,
I have watched the angel’s story.
Weak and injured, cold and crying,
I have felt the joy of flying.
Running hopeless through the grasses,
I have watched as springtime passes.
Kneeling, pining, pained and frozen,
Happy fantasies were chosen.
Wishes of the seas and flowers
Overrode the burning powers.
Frozen scars draw great and nigh,
Yet believing holds us high.

Beaten, torn, however shattered,
Dreams are what, to hearts, have mattered.
To the ocean or the sky roam.
Keep within the sacred dream home.
When the stars have lost their last light,
Dreams alone will light the midnight.

- Written by Anna Williams at Age 15

Junkyard

Anna — Wed, 06 Dec 2006 19:01:00 +0000

Flourescent
Snake’s coil.
Iridescent
Spot of oil.
Broken mirror’s
Flash and glare;
Rotten smell
Demon’s lair.
Yesterday’s memories
Smashed and broken,
These things
Have Spoken.

Bent cars
No longer speed
Down roads,
Past trees.
Broken vase
Held flowers;
No longer
Holds power.
Car seat
On its side,
On which children
Used to ride.

Now these
Make way
For new inventions
Of today
For future Junkyard
Of future day.

- Written by Anna Williams at age 12
Sheridan, Oregon