Marley+Utzig

A poem begins with a lump in the throat. ~Robert Frost



I beleive that faries exist I beleive that magic is real I beleive that the forest near my house has the fey creatures in it I beleive that under the water fall in the park is a pool of gold I beleive that the dragon statues in my Grandparents house come to life at night to kill trolls I beleive that all the holes in my socks are from those trolls I beleive that this is all true
 * They Do Exist**


 * Ode to Headphones**

Headphones, not earphones, headphones Huge colorful headphones Blasting music loudly in my ears Keeping my ears warm Keeping my thoughts pure and harmonized

Heaphones, not earphones, headphones You have taken me through my worst moments Safe in my bubble of music closed off from the world Keeping my mind sane Keeping my emotions underwraps

Headphones, not earphones, heaphones I have been through more pairs then I can count Forcing the sounds louder and louder until the speakers pop Keeping my headphone budget high Keeping my music loud

Headphones, that is all but with them I live my life I walk around with my headphones always Maybe they are stuck to my head?


 * Secrets**

I like secrets cause they keep me in line (You Me At Six- Finders Keepers) I have to watch my step all the time I like secrets cause they keep you near Each secret told brings more fear I like secrets cause its how you have control But each secret you keep you dig yoruself a hole I like secrets cause they keeps me younge What more to say then secrets are fun? I like secrets cause they make us friends Keeping secrets like starting trends I liked secrets cause they will never end With secrets you can pretend


 * I was Raised by ...**

I was raised by My family Who have been with me since birth. The cuts they covered with band-aids with cartoons my band-aids still have cartoons on them My first roller coster with my grandfather which are now my favorite rides The book my grandmother read with me which marked the first in a long line of books I read to myself My cousin, my first best friend who I created a million fake worlds with My grandmother who taught me how to bake my father who is my main food critic enjoys this The love My family raised me

I was raised by... My friends Who stood with me by choice The girls and boys who they argued with for me My music choices growing because of them a fact my neighbors do not enjoy since I like my music loud The sleepovers we had playing Truth or Dare and Monkey Ball till 5 in the morning My first friend in Philadelpha, Megghan someone who is still one of my bestfriends The boys we teased eachother over and after they turned us down we said rude things about them My friends who helped me out in the tough situations The growth My friends raised me

I was raised by ... The fads Which challenged my choices The Furby I owned which would make noises in my closet that freaked me out My Razor scooter only thing on wheels I was able to ride without difficulty The stupid wheelies a moment in my life where I realized I was not a part of the "cool" kids My first CD which was the Spice Girls, I still think they are a great band The sex braclets all my friends collected them but I did not think they were cute, I fell in love with bangles My ears peirced at the age of nine because my hair was so short people thought I was a boy The cartoons that I loved a 90s kid the cartoons now suck My favorites The fads raised me

I was raised by My family My friends The fads I am who I am because of them

I was raised by ... audio media type="file" key="I was raised by....m4a" width="300" height="50"


 * My attempt at writing a sonnet**

Writing a sonnet is quite hard -- I found Sonnets can be very demanding to write Its five or ten words - no more like a sound I am working when I want to take flight

This is rigorous every other line must rhyme and I am going insane this is to rough On this poem I am spending so much time Time, to much time I should be doing stuff

This poem must be no more then fourteen lines Its hard to be flexable with this thing These rules seem to put my mind in confines Make a song from this poem? Pfft hard to sing

Oh look imagination can come though I am done my sonnet now, my teacher must review

I hardly ever write poetry. In my mind people who write poetry are dark and brooding and have elegant speech and generally are very creative. This is not true though. I never liked writing poetry. It never seems to sound right to me and as soon as I am done I am done. I like how I finish it because in my mind a poem should be from your heart and how you feel at that exact moment. I sit in class my teacher giving us the guidelines for our next poem and I wrack my brain for something that I can write about, when the idea for a poem finally hits me it sticks. I change words as I go but other then that it sticks. I write a lot of poems that have a pattern throughout the stanzas. The easiest thing to write about is things you feel close to which is why all my songs are about my interests I try not to rhyme because I am terrible at it and I feel like it kills the ease of writing something the way I want it. I write about things close to my headphones and my family I drag you in with my words to tell you my harmonic story. I hope you liked my poems.
 * My poems:**


 * A peek at Emily Dickinson:**

Emily Dickinson died in 1886 over a hundred years from present day yet her poems are still famous and even more importantly they still relate to people. You can feel her longing for fun and excitement from her proper life. She has urges to be wild and crazy. She has a need to kiss him and then to forget him. All of her emotions and personality come out in her writing. She can get drunk off of wine with her friends and be happy or she can slip deep into a book and still feel joy. She shows us her basic emotions. Dreaming of the perfect man, kissing him, trying to forget him when he breaks your heart. All things we can still connect to today. She shows her feelings, her hopes, dreams, and fears. Girls write in diaries but to me it seems like you can get more of the truth for their poems. Poems can be like a secret language that you have to decipher and when you do the heart and soul of the author comes loose for you.