Poem Library Pt. 1.

Dream Doorway:

Framed glass doorway,

Righteous and tall,

Reinforced with steel,

A doorway made for all.

But tell me, if some cannot fit through,

Then tell me, what about you?

If we are all stuck,

On the other side,

Then who will save us, where is our pride?

I see now, that the doorway,

The framed one that we have seen,

Was indeed, not framed,

For it was a doorway,

Of our dreams.

Dangerous Friends:

To make a friend, that doesn't seem hard.

But it is, for you cannot let down your guard.

Yes, there are good friends,

But, there is also bad.

Which ones you pick,

They could be real bad.

So pick them wisely,

with each passing day,

They move out more widely,

Until they say "good day".

Now what have I told you?

About choosing friends.

They'll use you, until they get bored,

And they go back to the den.

Bloody Rain:

If rain falls, just like blood, then why not, bloody rain?

You bring your umbrella, you walk outside, and then, you feel a pain.

You look up, and see a dark figure, wearing red.

They bring up the knife, and you put down your head.

It's all over now, you should've stayed in bed.

But that person, they're knife, it was red!

So as you wait, for them to fall you, like a chopped down tree,

You look up, and the last thing you saw was rain, before it said: "It was me."

You wanted to scream, to run, and get away from this fate,

But the last thing you ever saw, was something, like a stake.

It came down, and you screamed, with your very last breath.

It didn't hurt, but you knew, you were gone, in your rest.

You can see now, and what you saw, would've shaken you to your brain.

It was what you always thought it was, it was...

Bloody Rain.

The Stick Figure:

I am, a stick figure.

That you see, in the minds eye.

But I say, "I better be bigger",

And then they say, "Goodbye".

They flip their imagination around,

And down it comes on me, I hear a sound.

It was the other one.

They liked me, I was their friend.

And what they believe, in their small, simple mind,

Was that friendship, it never ends.

So now, there they are,

Fighting, for me.

And I feel my first emotion,

As she gets rid,

Of me.

The ScareCrow:

Hello, I am here.

You know, you look very queer.

So look here- No, not there, you missed me.

No, that's not me, it's a bee.

Oh, you don't know who I am?

Then let me show you, My fam.

Over there, by the lettuce field,

Is little Tom.

He is very cute,

But he doesn't do his job.

He just simply stands there,

All day,

Letting the crows have our food,

And, by comparison,

I think he is being very rude.

You still can't see?

Fine then, look at me.

I'm right here!

Yes, the stick figure you see,

Dressed in humans clothes...

It is me, The ScareCrow.

AUTHORS NOTE:

Hello, everyone! I'll admit, these poems aren't that great, but I promise that I will make a Pt.2. soon, okay? I'm working on 4 other stories at once, now, so please be patient. I hope you can read these poems over and over again! :)

~Cristina Alan

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