English II Honors - My Poetry...for You

Hey guys!

I thought it would only be fair, considering that I have asked you to share so much of your writing with me, that I shared some of my writing with you. These poems do not require you to do anything other than read and enjoy -there will be no assessment. However, feel free to leave comments - they would be greatly appreciated, either positive or negative.

Thanks,
B. Parsons
English II Honors


Sunset Memorial
(For Cindy)

At length, the sun's glance on the hills,
had broken into mysterious hues.
The stark, amber trees echo'd of birds' trills,
and the Ohio waters moped in browns and blues,
for the earth had come to pay its dues.
The sombre mood was set by the dying rays,
and the sun had crested; bearing a dying haze.


On My Neck

I pulled out Dad's dogtags today
uncoiling them, marveling at the shapes
the real deal, olive drab to hide the glint
from an opportunistic Viet sniper.

Battle-scarred, they dangle in my hands.

AUST
45301
PARSONS RW
ANG
A POS

Words embossed into the metal
two tags, one chain, one man
they make the dead easier to catalog.

I think about them, dangling around his neck
knee deep in danger, back against a tree
breathing hard as Viet bullets hailed in.

The tags don't say he was 17.

17, but young enough to don a slouch hat
take a position, fight for his country.

When I was young, I used to play G.I. Joe
I was mad when he wouldn't let me wear them.

He told me, "One day you will have them when I am gone."


Merely Players
(For the Cincinnati Shakespeare Company)

I adore the humble stage,
provided so intimate and honest;
the mind is rarely enough engaged,
that when free from its cage,
the world, I hope, has promise.



Who wouldn't to dream of such things,
and lovingly craft their making?

Instead of sitting idly by,
allowing unborn dreams to die-

You perform. And the world lies, waiting.


Breaking Down
(For Misty Hydrick)

There ain't much money, left in this town
Barely enough for the rich to pass around.
The streets are in tatters, the trees are all dead
Won't be too long, 'til this comes to a head.

A cruiser rolls up, in the old neighborhood,
"Damn them kids, they up to no good!"
A drug deal goes down, a wife gets beat,
And the lil.. boys and girls hears it all from the street.

The street are all dyin', their faces are weary,
Black iron dust, streak..d all acid-rain teary.
The young children watch, as the little town decays,
Wonder'n if all this, gonna be there's some day.


Taste of Trees

Donc a hom dreg en Amor? No,
mas cujarion-s'o li fol.

The heart moves in shapes,
chasing endless parallels
with you
the discontented spirits
bound at the hands, watch
and envy.