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Pipkin

The poem "Whispering Pines" describes a narrator who enters a painting of a forest scene. The narrator walks down a crooked path surrounded by pine trees, maples, and fallen leaves. Birds begin singing to signal the start of a performance by the whispering pines, who share their secrets and advice with the narrator. The second poem, "Fear", is spoken from the perspective of Fear. Fear describes taking different forms to keep people afraid, such as locks, nightmares, and pain. Fear has no fears of its own and lives comfortably inside people's minds.

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Renalyn Rada
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130 views2 pages

Pipkin

The poem "Whispering Pines" describes a narrator who enters a painting of a forest scene. The narrator walks down a crooked path surrounded by pine trees, maples, and fallen leaves. Birds begin singing to signal the start of a performance by the whispering pines, who share their secrets and advice with the narrator. The second poem, "Fear", is spoken from the perspective of Fear. Fear describes taking different forms to keep people afraid, such as locks, nightmares, and pain. Fear has no fears of its own and lives comfortably inside people's minds.

Uploaded by

Renalyn Rada
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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Wink, 2009-10

Course: Creative Writing


Instructor: Tracy Helixon
Assignment: Poem
Whispering Pines
By Lori Pipkin

Staring into the painting that sits on my mantle,


I wish that I were there.
The pink hue of the sky at dawn, the towering pines
they beckon me.

Stepping through the picture frame,


I walk the crooked path.
It opens before me like an engraved invitation
to the wonders of the season.

With my entrance, low branches of pine boughs,


lie down to greet me with the least hesitation.
Safe on my path of twist and turns,
familiar are my choices.

The wind blows, the maples wave,


they look down in mourning at the leaves frost has taken.
Leaves gather and crunch beneath me,
their music announces my arrival.

Birds call out like flutes and strings


warming up for a special performance.
I take my seat on the stump of a tree,
and wait for the main attraction.

Sitting and shivering from a crisp cool dawn,


I wonder, have they forgotten?
When the pines lean toward me in a canopy,
the wait will not be much longer.

Suddenly a chorus erupts from the forest,


it is meant for my ears only.
The whispering pines all speak in rhyme,
I tap my foot as I listen.

Do you want to know the secrets they’ve told


or the advice that they have given?
You must find your way at first light of day,
and walk down your own crooked path.
Wink, 2009-10
Course: Creative Writing
Instructor: Tracy Helixon
Assignment: Poem
Fear
By Lori Pipkin

My name is Fear; you can’t see me,


I wear different faces; I can’t set you free.
You are the force that keeps me alive,
Without you I cannot survive.

I am the locks, the deadbolts on doors,


I am the walking, the creaking of floors.
I am the nightmares that swim in your head,
I am the rattling under your bed.

I am the phone call in the middle of the night,


I am the switch that turns out the light.
I am the ghost that haunts your house,
I am the squeaking, scampering mouse.

I am adrenaline; I course through your veins,


I am the wound that causes you pain.
I am the dying, lying alone,
I am the graveyard; I am the stone.

I know no fear;
I am one of a kind.
With a comfortable home,
I live in your mind.

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