a collection of little poems.

you little red ladder.
Rungs on this ladder have been climbed before.
I have, I believe... but no more.
Your fresh, red paint doesn't make you more appealing.
It doesn't give you better grip or more feeling.
Glossy paint makes you slippery...
only easier for those at the top.
So I simply
dropped.

probability.
Probability. 3 in four green jellybeans.
1 in four suicidal teens.
Way too many health related dreams,
Even more ripped at the seams.
So throw your water balloon into the sky,
And take a guess if it will fly,
Or be blue, or if the inevitable will come true.

sitting in the tub. (an attempt at imagism)
In the bubbling tub sat one who had the brain of a child, one who acted like a child, and one who was a child.

the blanket poem. (an attempt at free verse.)
Under my blanket,
in my own world
of stale air
and soft linen,
I am
the smartest,
prettiest,
wisest.
Nothing
is higher than my
frizzy hair,
except for the blanket
surrounding my kingdom.
All hail.