The Lost; The Free -- a poem

The hurt, the pain, the lost, the confused, the depressed.

we ain't very well dressed;

our clothes are ripped, tattered, and scattered.

we fall to our knees saying,

"Why me?"

but we don't understand that this land or feet stand on

might not be here, come dawn.

we're trying to stay on top.

in the middle and not forgot.

but we don't see that our lives

are like a shaken bee hive;

it's spiraling, gone, out of control

because who here was told

that the love of God does not get old?

it stays with us forever and sets us free

from the ropes that bind us;

we think there is no way to leave.

Oh God, help us please.

We yearn to be free.



*OK this is one of my very first poems. I've never really liked poems... HOWEVER we are now learning 'bout them in school and I've come to find that the only reason I didn't like them is because I didn't know how o write them :-). Hope I'm doing well ;)

Major Memory Loss

I stare dumbly at the ground. My head is throbbing, but I don’t know why. In fact, I don’t know anything at all. There is a weird contraption next to me, but I don’t understand what it is. It’s hard to keep balance, sitting up, so I lie back down, accidentally banging my already hurting head on the sidewalk.

“Sir, are you alright?”

I cried. I wanted someone to make my head stop hurting, but nobody would. Through my tear, I could see a tall blur of a woman with her hand up to her ear.

“Hello?” she said. “Yes, I need an ambulance to come quick. There is a man lying on the sidewalk next to a bike with a bleeding head. No, he has no wallet or anyway for me to identify who he is…”

I cry louder as I heard sirens wailing loudly, but it made me tired and I fall asleep.

When I woke up, I was hungry. Somebody in white clothes comes and feeds me something from a little container, saying to another person in blue clothes, “... robbed. I think they attacked him. He fell off his bike, hit his head, and lost all his memory. He’s like a four month old baby.”