The Poetry of Language
By: Ryan Gonzalez-Field
A list poem,
Some of something,
Or something else,
I don’t really know,
I’ve never made a list poem.
The wind slicing through trees as if it were a hot knife in butter.
Strong winds removing leaves and branches.
Gentle winds quietly providing a breeze.
Violent winds up-rooting plants as far as the eye can see.
The wind, beautiful and destructive as it is.
The candle has a potent smell of eagerness,
A strong odor of joy,
The aroma of happiness,
And the fragrance of bliss.
The moon stared at the Earth with great intent,
It gazed and wondered “am I content.”
It started and pondered, wondering in thought,
Whether itself, the moon, is beautiful or not.
Rolling hills, and open skies,
Flowing rivers, and tall trees,
This is the countryside,
Where we love and live.
Sharpened to a point like a razor.
Made to erase your mistakes.
Or make them worse.
Made for your creativity.
Or to annoy you.
This is a pencil, your best friend.
Or your worst nightmare.
Crawling along the ground, a little ant, out of sight, out of mind
A tree falls along the riverside, water splashing.
Splish, Splash. Splish, Splash.
A boat’s creaking as it rocks in the waves, back and forth.
A little ant, watching it all from its little perch on a leaf.
We went to the wallaby warehouse to see the wallabies.
Wallabies wobble in their little warehouse.
Wallabies like to wobble, and wiggle.
Wallabies are very wibbly, wobbly creatures.
Turquoise looks fluent,
Turquoise smells pleasing,
Turquoise tastes valuable,
Turquoise feels potent,
Turquoise sounds colorful,
Turquoise is jewelry.
Ryan Gonzalez-Field is a high school student with interests in writing, art, and photography.
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