Innocence, Silver Wings, Becoming Human

[LaurenHanss]

Im new at this so ya :]

Innocence
Where is your innocence?
Did you leave it in the stairwell to keep your demons company?
Did you place it in the closet with all of the skeletons?
Where is your innocence?
Is it under the bed, sleeping with the boogeyman?
Or did you bury it with your fallen angel’s wings?
Your innocence is here among the rose thorns
It is here among the shadows
It is here where the boys lay
It used to be here with the broken hearted girls
Where is your innocence?
Was it ever really there?


Silver Wings
Angels with silver wings
Know no suffering
They fly too high to feel the pain
They whisper in your ear
Things that make you quake in fear
They send Cupid down from above
To tell you the sweet ironies of love
Here they tend the broken path
The way of life
They want to let demons lie
Things that were cease to be
As is the way with history


Becoming Human


Let us sink let us drift
There is nothing wrong with that.
We lost track of the reasons
The excuses we held close.
So let us float away into forgetfulness.

Somewhere we lost it,
The dreams we held so dear.
We scattered them like petals,
And forgot to remember where they went.

Our naivety is tainted.
It got sullied on the way,
To the top.
And we tried to get it back,
but one cannot buy innocence.

There is something in the water,
It makes us who we are.
And conforms us to fit,
The standard mold.

So let us sink, let us drift.
Push us out to sea.
Because somewhere, somehow,
We want to lose our memories.
There is nothing wrong with that.

[~Sophia~]

Hi Lauren. Have you ever heard of a found poem? I found this one in the three of yours. Thanks for inspiring me to look for it!

-------------------------------------------

Where is your innocence?
Did you bury it where the boys lay
too high to feel the pain?
Suffering
they
make you quake -
tend the broken path.

There is nothing wrong with that.

The excuses we held close
sullied - one cannot buy
innocence.

Something in the water,
makes us drift.

There is nothing wrong with that.

-------------------------------------------

from poet.org


Found poems take existing texts and refashion them, reorder them, and present them as poems. The literary equivalent of a collage, found poetry is often made from newspaper articles, street signs, graffiti, speeches, letters, or even other poems.

A pure found poem consists exclusively of outside texts: the words of the poem remain as they were found, with few additions or omissions. Decisions of form, such as where to break a line, are left to the poet.

[~Sophia~]

Sorry, when I edited to include the definition of a found poem, I hit the save button twice. Ooops.