Narrative Poems

1) A grey room

Nothing but shadows: with an evil figure, I hear the voices in my head, telling me to escape...but I don’t know how. The sounds of cold winds fill the room. I can’t even tell what time of day it is, the cold makes me think it’s nighttime, but I can’t be sure. It smells metallic, like blood. The shadow reveals itself, an unknown man is it’s result. His hooded face only reveals glowing, yellow eyes. He pops his knuckles as he draws closer to me. Then I realize, I’ve been here before, and I’ve spilled blood on the floor of the grey, grey room.


2) Paris in Flames

All I see are yellow eyes, I hear the screams of the damned, Zombies. They surround me, I can see them everywhere. The sky’s so full of smoke that I can’t even see the sun. My body is full of fear. All I can smell is the clouds of smoke. The Zombies surround me, but wait, he’s back, the hooded figure from the grey room. He pulls out his rifle and throws me another one and says four words: “Fight to the death” I’m in Paris and it’s in flames, smoke fills the skies, and the damned surround us.

-Written by the one and only Dakota "The Tank" Harkess

Color Poem- Under the sun's Hue/Carry On

Under the Sun's Hue(Carry On)

Written By Dakota Harkess

The warm orange fire, the sun's dawn hue.

As I roast mellows, I wonder what I will do with my life.

I am so young, my sea blue eyes, my dirty blonde hair.

It won't last forever.

Just like the tallest green spruce, I will fade.

But for now, I am nothing but a small seed, waiting for my chance to grow.

To find happiness, and do what I enjoy, to draw, to sing, to love.

All these thoughts, under the sun's dawn hue.

No longer does the fire burn, but my soul does, I stand up and walk.

My bare feet touch the green, fresh grass. I don't know what will come, but I'll be ready.

I will carry on.

Awesomely Bad Poem- Dread

Why did you hurt me?
Break my heart and desert me?
You left me to die....
With no reason why....

Thy knife buried deep in my chest....
Stab me in the back, leave me to rest..
In a painful tomb, full of dread...
Leaving me to hear the voices in my head...

Oh how I wait for the day...
When I see you on the floor..
Your heart not beating anymore..
Oh that day of bittersweet revenge..

My soul set free..
The day I see....
You blood, looking so metallic..
Its smell will make me go fanatic..

That will be the day..
When I leave you to die..
With no reason why..
-Written by the one and only Dakota "The Tank" Harkess

Reclaiming your inner poet

• What your inner poet looks like…Fiery, aggressive. But can be calmed
• What your inner poet feels like…A monster waiting to be tamed
• Where your inner poet was born…The day I wrote my first story
• What your inner poet sees…The good, the bad, and the in between
• Where your inner poet is recognized…When he is unleashed
• What your inner poet knows…How to make a reader on the edge of their seat
• What your inner poet imagines…Everything that people claim impossible
• Where your inner poet lives…Inside of me hid under lock and key
• What your inner poet must speak…When provoked, or when inspired
• Why your inner poet exists…Whenever he feels like it