Old Poems

I was looking around in the basement today and I found this cool collection of old pieces of writing that I wrote when I was younger. I found this collection of poems I had apparently written. Here are a few of them with more to come later:

Easter
Why do you laugh at such a man?
He tried and did all he can.
He tried to help you out,
But you just kicked him about.
He was innocent of any crime,
Sold to death for one thin dime.
On that day, you saw his face,
As he walked with a tiring pace.
And in his eyes all you saw,
Was just love without a flaw.
But you just sat there,
And gave him an angry stare.
You lifted up your fisted hand,
And on that face it did land.
You saw into his loving eyes,
But still cried that he dies.
He was marched to the place
Where the punishment he would taste.

His eyes were mercy overflowing,
But your anger blinded your knowing.
You could have said not even a word,
But that anger made you yell absured.
And on that death rack he hung.
As a hero who's song was unsung.
Each hit that drove the nail,
was each time your love would fail.
You mocked and laughed with hate,
Until his life was almost too late.
On the most grusome symbol he lay.
However, he saved oyu on that day.
But out of this came a light,
To give the weak: might.

But then the hate was taken away.
For you could see the love that day.
You realized your great sin
Was on each hand's pin.
That great denial,
You thought was beyond reconcile.
But on that cross, that man said.
With all his might, before he was dead,
"Father, mercy on those; please, forgive,
So that each one of them may live."

This story does not end.
For there was more to send.
After three days in the grave,
A road to salvation that did pave.
He gave you a great gift.
Made it so your life will lift.
And this great man is here today,
And will love you all the way.
Even if people beat you down
And you try to keep a frown,
This man will always love
and give you preace from above.


Untitled
Welcome, I am a robot.
My head is a silver pot.
When I walk out of bed,
I sometimes feel half dead.
My iron stomach starts to moan,
And then it starts to groan.
So when the stove gets fired,
And I am just too tired,
I just pop off my pot
And put it on the stove top.
Wtih my head cooking,
I throw eggs while not looking.
For you understan',
My eyes are on the pan.

Another benefit,
Is where I sit.
When there are no seats around,
And a seat is nowhere found,
I do something neat,
And use my head as a seat.

As you can see,
You're jealous of me.
Cause you don't own
A pot of your own.
And you will always cry,
And you will always sigh,
For this pot is the best,
And your organic head a pest.
So just say it now,
And give me a bow.
Robots are way way better
For they have a better header.

(Wow, I can totally see my Feel-er personality trait coming out in the next one)

The Misunderstood Man
Everyday I get pie-ed
Don't like to be denied.
Everyday I stand around,
My self-esteem is downed.
Still ...
People point with mocks
And at me, throw their socks.
I am so sad
This makes me mad.
I try to be funny
and very very punny.
I give them a smile
That stretched a mile.
But ...
People point with mocks
And at me throw their socks.
I am so sad
This makes me mad.
For I am a clown
And I cannot frown.
Please stop mistreating me
and don't take my glee.
Don't ...
Point with mocks
Or throw your socks
I am so sad
This makes me mad.
Clowns have feelings too,
Not just to amuse you.
So ...
Next time you see
A clown like me,
Say thank you,
And please don't boo.

It seems like I was a better writer in 8th grade than I am now! I feel so sorry for that clown. :*( .