when i was a youngster, ahed ten, eleven, i had the ability to make teachers cry with what i wrote. i soon became a nationalist before secondary school. therefore, i wrote a book when i was thirteen, about the war of 1812, from a british perspective. however, it is not published, as i am waiting until adulthood to publish my two books, one on an immortal who has lived through all of history, and important moments in it. i am now 15, and publishing poems i wrote a long time ago.
The land is baron cold and vile,
but there are things we know all the while,
those things are meories to hold,
glory more precious than gold,
...
The modern world in which we live our lives,
the materials, corporations and routines,
centuries long the system was worked on,
millennia preceeding more primative the ways,
...
Across the hall i did stand and stare,
at the thing i could have sworn was there,
my feet seemed glued to the freezing floor,
i could not turn to face the door,
...
Centuries we have lived, so calm
Crossed the sea, from the east,
Then we gained our Celtic ways,
And we lived, and we loved,
...
She longed to be a bird.
That she might fly away.
She pitied every blade of grass
For planted they would stay.
...