These are three poems I wrote for English. Tell me what you think!
There are no rules or laws to follow,
Only the pen and a piece of paper.
And don't forget about the mind
Because it is the most important of all.
There are no limits to the imagination,
Only limits caused by lack of language.
And those limits can be overcome
Because there are translations.
There is no sort of right or wrong,
Only what the reader believes in.
And the reader can believe in anything
Because words are different for each one.
There is a stolen child and a wild rebel,
Only brought together by blood-red rose.
And this only makes sense to poets
Because we are the ones who pen these words.
The Celtic Cross
A Celtic cross is outside my bedroom window.
It has been there since I was born or before.
I have grown up under its immense shadow
And every day, I start to hate it even more.
I walk beneath in order to get to school
And I feel guilty like I've done wrong.
The cross is my judge, cold and cruel,
Like any judge, it is stone and strong.
Given the choice I would move away
Or better yet, I could pull it to the ground.
The best I can do is ignore it today.
Maybe now it will finally fall down.
One day the Celtic cross was missing.
I could not help but start to cry.
My mind wanted to be celebrating,
But instead was saying goodbye.
A Celtic cross was outside my bedroom window.
It had been there since I was born or before.
I had grown up under its immense shadow
And now I've started to love it even more.
There are two birds of the same tree.
One sits in a cage, the other flies free.
The bird in the cage has no voice.
There is no way for it to rejoice.
A caged bird can only mourn
And so it must, voice worn.
The free bird is not real.
Freedom is only an ideal.
The bird will be put in a cage.
There it must spend its days.
Which bird am I supposed to be,
Sitting in a cage, or flying free?
Is it better to never speak
And so then be seen as weak?
Or is it better to just resist,
But then not actually exist?