Poems are hard to write –
I should know, I've tried.
Whenever the words start coming,
Order gets thrown to the side.
Words and grammar and sentences jumbling
Making my head pound.
And when I try to put them together
They make a most terrible sound.
And topics? Who has one?
To be poetic – that takes talent.
I ain't got none, I just like to scribble.
But mostly I like to vent.
Pennies falling to the ground,
No food, a hard day selling.
Life's hard being a newsie –
Even harder with all that freakin yellin.
Whenever I try to find a corner to write
To wax my feelings on paper,
A fight breaks out, a card game starts –
That's it, I'll have to write later.
I have papers full of ink
Nonsense written while in a hurry.
Snatching a moment here and there……………
The words just come in a flurry.
I wanna be a writer –
That's my dream, that's my goal.
Leave this crowded city…………..
And become like authors of old.
Education, I've got almost nothing
But the classics I sneak to bed
Dickinson, Scott and even some Bronte –
If the guys find out I'm dead.
I try to copy their style –
Hoping my words will flow like theirs.
Writing is supposed to be a joy,
But for me it only brings frustrated tears.
No one ever sees me,
No one watched, no one to care
Sometimes I get spacey and dreamy
But I my ideas I cannot share.
Arrogant, strong quick for wit
That's Jack, standing on the right.
Show him my poems? Ha, that's a laugh
I don't wanna give him a fright.
Mush would be better –
A possibility, yes.
But pulling him away from his latest "friend"
Would just end in a mess.
Blink's too lazy, Racetrack's gambling,
Skittery's jumping in the corner.
David's too smart and Snipeshooter too dumb –
To talk to Les I've got to be shorter.
Newsies are supposed to be strong,
Tough, fearless, smart –
No one would ever consider that
One little newsie wants a new start.
That would be me, little Snitch,
Sucking my thumb here all alone.
Never thought life would be so hard
When I ran away from home.
There's nothing I want more
Than to see my name in print
Now I just need a topic, some words –
And I'll be off on a writing stint.
But -
Poems are hard to write.
Believe me, I've tried.
I'll need more money, talent, privacy………
Till then my hands are tied.
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Ok, guys, this is the end of the first poem in this delightful collection. One day in class I just started spouting this one off, and today I wrote three more! Each one is about a different Newsie, and I hope to add more.
Hope you enjoyed! Review!