Written for Creative Writing. Freshman Year

Miss Autumn's my favorite.

Sonnet for a Soldier

"Oh, listen to the sound silence that fills
For endless time is standing so still here
I can see forever through these long hills
Stay ever close to me tonight my dear.

It is hard to say when I shall return
I know not if Fate is harsh, but know please
That every night I am away I'll yearn
For fair maiden whom angels call Louise."

This is what he told me before he went
To fight for our children to grow up free.
So many days I smiled thought I felt spent.
The men returned, but he, I couldn't see.

Then out from the crowd, the beautiful sight,
An angel with revolver came forward so bright.

Miss Autumn

Who killed Miss Autumn?
For that beautiful hair of auburn
Lays fallen on the floor.
To rise again nevermore

Was it Miss Summer, jealous of her smile?
Or was it Miss Spring, her bitter rival?
Oh but whom of these is the most bitter?
Why none other than Miss Winter!

For Winter must've strangled Autumn
With those hands cold as icicles become
Oh how could that cruel mistress end it all
How could someone watch end of Fall?

Repetitions

Teach me how
To live in a sea of black
Please crush my spirit
Make me like one of the pack

Teach me how
To tease timid little mice
With catty remarks my claws
I'll have no reason, I'm as cold as ice

Teach me how
To rage against my life
Make my happy thoughts
Turn to thoughts of toil and strife.

But ha! not me! I am alive
I don't wish to live to die
I live for today may be my last
No time to sulk, life goes to fast

I'll dance though the crowd may stare
I'll love the ones you desert
I'll sing even if all can hear
I'll live like it's Heaven on Earth

The Image of a Young Bride

Her radiance shines and lights
Which ever room she graces.
And when the setting sun blazes
Through a window, it glorifies her might.
Then she greets the night:
The moonlight she embraces.
Dressed in a nightgown full of laces,
She is a precious sight.

With elegance, morning breaks,
Peeking through the window.
Slowly, Sleeping Beauty wakes
Next to a man with his voice so low.
Her dainty hands, his rough ones take.
They have forever for their love to grow.

A Foggy Morning

Stealthy as a cat, creeping cross the floor,
He walks past his young wife sleeping like a dog.
To make his way to open the front door,
And as he does, he disappears into the fog.

With each step, his heart grew sadder
As he lived up to his fatal mistake.
She could not know of this matter
So he must look like a flake.

Through the fog, the church bell did ring.
So proud and true the sound!
Suddenly his foe with grace did spring!
The man fell silent upon the ground.

Now with each passing day, the young widow's heart grows sore.
For she will never know that his love for her shall grow forever more.

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I had a flair for the dramatic. >.> We were going over Shakespeare in English at the time too.