Rain

RAIN

     

The sun shines down,

As a calm breeze blows by,

All in the sudden the breeze is a strong,

Father wind,

Making the bumps of a goose appear,

And disappear on my skin.

            

       I hear that wind call to me,

“Blow with me,

Play with me,

We will blow the crops,

And sing the howling song.”

As I refuse “No”,

The sad wind,

Makes a cloud,

And cries.

I rejoice,

For I had made the right choice,

For the crops get a drink,

The world is wet,

And I,

Was born to be in rain.

Little Baby

 

Little Baby

I just love my sister Annie. I got the idea of writing a poem about a baby from her. Annie, I love you. She was a baby when I wrote this. I’m eight.

Little baby,

Don’t cry.

Little baby,

Feel calm.

Little baby,

You’re mine.

Little baby,

I love you.

Our Vineyard

Our Vineyard

      The world is like a vineyard,

A vineyard of us all.

      We all have branches,

Though some of us,

Hardly at all!

      That’s why misionarys,

Come to spread braches,

Branches of the gospel.

     

      This is of the vineyard,

The vineyard Jacob of told.

      Now why don’t you go read it,

It’s in chapter five.

Sunday

Sunday

      

At church,

We sing reverently.

      

At church,

We say prayrs,

Fervantly.

      

At church,

Teachers teach.

      

At church,

We don’t play,

Like we’re at a beach.

       At church,

It is quiet and respecting to god.

       On Sunday,

We go to church.

Morgan

Sitting on the slick grass in my Morgan Utah,

On a windy but sunny day,

As it is my alone time,

I hear supper cooking,

Mama and Papa whisper,

Children playing,

I see a rabbit poke his head out of a hole and back in,

I see leaves falling,

A squirrel run up a tree trunk,

Have a quiet heart listening to the fine day,

The next day of a reunion for my family,

I will feel relieved to have my Morgan back.

Written as a school assignment, 2010

Flagstaff

Swinging in the park in my dearest Flagstaff,

On a playful and sunny day,

As it is family time,

I hear children playing,

Grownups talking,

people having picnics,

I see blankets spread on the grass,

A nearby pond,

I see yellow soft ducklings eating by the water,

I have been happy on this playful day,

The next happy day of a holiday,

Excited to be by family.

Written following a form learned in school, 2010

Lots of Poems I wrote in Barstow

***
Blake my boy,
Smiles so bright,
Loving your kitty
All the day through.

Blake my boy,
Skamperin' 'round,
Shoutin' the news.

Blake my boy,
You've taught me a leson,
To get used to noise!

***

In my father's hands,
I feel the warm strength that a father has.

When I cry, help, help
When I'm home, you rush to my aid.

You've taught me how to care, so tenderly
You've taught me how to help as well as care.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, thank you.

***
I love a woman,
That has a gift,
So to heaven she will go.

A gift of love,
That feels so warm,
Like a blanket,
So fuzzy.

My mother is the person,
So lovingly quiet.

So as you read this,
Listen to my words:
I love you.

***
Annie my little babe,
So small and content,
I hope you won't be a sumo one day,
In China away!

Annie my little babe,
So beautiful and quiet,
Unlike our family,
Brown hair's on you!

Annie my little babe,
So small and cute,
Can't get enough,
Of my little Annie.

***
In My Little Garden

In my little garden, the flowers sway, birds chirp,
I pick flowers, squirels skamper, lookin for acorns.
In my little garden, I like the peacful quiet.
In my little garden, I feel happy in my heart.

My Snoring Grandpa

I have a grandpa that snores.
He snores the night away.
And grandma can't stand it.
He snores her away!

Take a Dear Rest

Take a dear rest,
Sleeptime is come,
Take a snoze,
Take a sleep,
On this starry, starry night.

The crickets are chirping, a bit loud.
Snuggle in the sheets, warm and snug.
Take a dear rest, close your eyes,
And take a rest.


The Barn

Sitting in the barn,
Waiting for dawn to rise,
I smell the smell of new hey.

I get up and get on the rope swing, and swing.
I get that sensation, the sensation that you get
When you're in the place you belong.

Poor Henley

Poor Henley, in the hospitle cot.
Poor Henley, one foot off.
Poor, poor Henley,
But he never gave up.

The Awful Road Trip

In the car, my sister is asleep snoreing, drooling,
And many, many other discusting ways to sleep.
I feel nosous, sick and billious.
"I need a bowl to throw up in," I complain.
I know there are 16 more houres
Till we end the trip.........
But when we get home, I'll throw up, and cry,
"That was an awful road trip!"

Goin' to Barstow

"Goin' to Barstow," I sing as we ride.
The perfect eye sight, in out my window with me.
"Goin' to Barstow, Goin' to Barstow," I sing.

Six Sexy Women
Six sexy women,
Walking across the street I spy.
Jewels, jewelry,
Belts, purses, chains,
Make-up, and
Sexy, sexy clothes.

Oh, Brother!

Oh brother! My brother yells.
Oh brother! My brother hits!
Oh, brother! But he's a toddler.

When the Real Time Comes

When angels gather 'round the people,
When angels blow trumpets,
When Jesus appears.

I Love You, Cupid

Cupid, Cupid I love you.
Come to me, my love cupid.
You're my biggest valentine.
Cupid, cupid, come to me!

Help My Poor Soul

Hot and waterless,
Bare foot on the steaming hot sand.
Help my poor soul!
No building lay ahead,
Doomed to die,
In a dreadful desert.

Bucko and Emily

Bucko and Emily
Were bad ones yes they were,
They robbed,
They shot guns!
"I'm Emily and this is my husband, Bucko!
We're bad! Hands up!"
Emily screamed
Wherever they went.

Rose

My,
My,
The wind,
A howling man,
Blows the little princess,
Beauty,
With swords,
To defend.

(I learned about personification and wanted to try it out.)

The Painted Sky

Laying in the grass,
Looking at the sky,
The sun falls asleep,
Disappearing in the hills.

I see the painted sky,
Red, orange and yellow,
Red, for the blood of the sun dying,
Though the sun will be resurrected.

Orange for the fruit of health,
Suggesting life to stay with the sun.

Yellow, for the brightness and cheer,
"For the world should be more happy,"
As the sun would say.

The painted sky in the evening,
Is a reminder in life,
The sky is painted in the evening,
So go and remember these words,
As you see,
The painted sky.

My Heavenly Father Lives

 My Heavenly Father Lives

By Emma

He lives, Mary was the first to see it.  

He lives, the disciples were the second to see it.  

Time had passed, he came again to the Nephites.  

They felt the prints from the nails.

Written in 2009