S'More of my OLD poems

#1 "Too Many Poets"

There are too many poets
With nothing to say:
We look into ourselves,
We look out at the day.

There are too many poems
That get tossed aside:
They speak of the seasons,
They speak of the tide.

There are too many errors
In epochs of men:
What we've done in the past,
We keep doing again.

#2 "Eleven-fifteen"

It's tense, and tight,
And all we are is waiting;
With painful glances:
I at you, and you at me.

We would touch,
But fear is single,
And time ticks on.

STOP! STOP!

Oh, no, the end will come;

And our memories

Are only gray visions

Blurred with the rain.

--The above poem was written at 11:15 a.m., just before the bell was to ring, ending the last day of my favorite class in my last year of high school.

-- Poems by Rani Kaye, all rights reserved