I just read The Highwayman in school, and I loved it! This is a poem inspired by it. It has the same cadence (ish), but not the same theme. I haven't written a poem in YEARS, so I would appreciate feedback! Also there's no rhyme scheme. I'm trying to get back to my poem writing days slowly, without tackling it all at once. 

Untitled

When we go up to the moonlight

I feel like I can touch the stars

When we go running down the road

I feel like I could climb the mountains

When we go splashing in the stream

I feel like I could swim the ocean

Touch the stars, climb the mountain, swim the ocean

Together.

I have another one somewhere too. It's a special kind of poem, I forgot what it's called. But I wrote it with some of my friends. And AARGH, I can't find it! But it was the best poem I've ever written. I'll post it if I ever find it!

~Starseeker 

Came across a prompt that uses the first line & title of a song. . . 

now or never (Halsey)

i don't want to fight

right now, you say, and

you seem so tired, so worn, so

lost that i want to give you 

a hug, but then i remember

that this isn't my conversation

that i am just a bystander

although i shouldn't be

because i— i am too quiet

and i can never find my voice

when i need it most, so i'm

sorry that i stayed silent

but we can't go back

now, love, time waits

for no man or woman.

~~~

I'd love some critique!!  

Oh, hurrah, poetry! I have several that I'd like to post, but I'll do them in separate comments for fear of one getting too long.

—— 

Origins

I am from nowhere and somewhere, 

from clicking chopsticks,

the sharp scent of onions,

the smooth twang of voices

forming words, round and soft,

that fit into my mouth

like the mints

that Di 12 keeps in her purse.

I listen, but don't understand, and

speak, halty and slow,

with the wrong accent,

and wonder what I am saying. 

I am also from candles,

two, a pair of identical twins

in a race to see which

can melt faster,

from honey-colored bread

that is hot in my hands when I pull off a chunk.

It's sweet, like the dark juice

which sloshes in

fluted glasses.

I sing in a tongue

with even edges

and square corners

that tastes

just a little tangy

a bit like the dought warmth

of the Challah

that they used to pass out

at snacktime

at Sunday School.

I feel important

because, now, I know

what I am saying, though not

nessecarily what it means.

I am from leather photo albums

and watermelon-staind grins

from steaming bolws of pho

and oily crisp-fried latkes

from colorful coconut candies and red envelopes,

from parched brittle bread and greens dipped in salt.

I am from places I have been,

and ones I might never see—

I am from nowhere

and from somewhere. 

untitled~

you told me that

i was too sensitive, comparing me

to a porcelain marionette,

held up by invisible strings,

a laquered smile painted

onto my face, everything hidden

behind a facade of false

happiness, you told me that

if someone were to drop me,

i'd shatter into hundreds of pieces

that could never be picked up

again. but you were oh so

wrong, because i am not quite

so fragile, darling. i am folded up secrets

and sharp edges,

i can be dropped many,

many times, and although bruised,

i stand up again, still good. i am

cut from steel, not from a stencil,

and i am real, not painted. 

i stand on my own, love. 

i have cut the stings.

~~~~~~

I'd love some critique and/or title suggestions!