A Book of Poems

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Hi, my name is Jackson. I’m a grade 8 student in North Vancouver. I’m originally from Toronto and only moved a few years ago. I’m really into outdoor spots, like mountain biking and snowboarding, and you’ll hear me reference these a lot. I also play guitar, and I’m in multiple bands. This book is the result of one of my projects for school. In the project we had to start working with words and expressing ourselves through poetry. I was not the most enthusiastic going into this project because I have never loved poetry. As the project went on I started to discover that poems can be relaxing. Just because I’m saying this, don’t expect me to start writing poetry all the time. I will however be a lot more open to future things like this. 

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Tall as a mountain Thin as a page Calm as a fountain Strong as a cage Dumb as a rock Sharp as a pin Slow as a clock Competitive as a win Fast as a car Bright as a light Fit as a fountain Rare as a kite

Ticka, ticka, ticka, ticka, ticka Swooooooosh, scrape, rustle Cruuuunch, whooooosh Skreeeeeet, skirrrrrrrrrt Pop, shhhhhhhhhh Bang, crrrrrrash Creak, creak Crunch, crunch Swish, swish Ticka, ticka, ticka, ticka, ticka

I’m in the mountains In all the white fluffy snow Time to do some jumps Hit the big take off I go flying through the air I hope that I land Thick heavy powder Time for a day in the trees Try not to hit one

Original: Fiddler’s Green by The Tragically Hip

September seventeen For a girl I know it&apos;s Mother&apos;s Day Her son has gone alee And that&apos;s where he will stay Wind on the weathervane Tearing blue eyes sailor-mean As Falstaff sings a sorrowful refrain For a boy in Fiddler&apos;s Green His tiny knotted heart Well, I guess it never worked too good The timber tore apart And the water gorged the wood You can hear her whispered prayer For men at masts that always lean The same wind that moves her hair Moves a boy through Fiddler&apos;s Green Oh, nothing&apos;s changed anyway Oh, nothing&apos;s changed anyway Oh, anytime today He doesn&apos;t know a soul There&apos;s nowhere that he&apos;s really been But he won&apos;t travel long alone No, not in Fiddler&apos;s Green Balloons all filled with rain As children&apos;s eyes turn sleepy-mean And Falstaff sings a sorrowful refrain For a boy in Fiddler&apos;s Green

You can hear her whispered prayer Balloons all filled with rain No, not in Fiddler’s Green Well, I guess it never worked too good Wind on the weathervane As children’s eyes turn sleepy-mean The same wind that moves her hair Her tiny knotted heart But she won’t travel long alone As Falstaff sings a sorrowful refrain No, not in Fiddler’s Green

Worldview struts through the door Smelling of fire place and pine Worldview sits down and stares right through me Seeing thoughts I believed were only mine Worldview sits there for a while Warping my thoughts and views It happened so fast And yet still without a rouse Worldview changed something All it took was a glance Worldview changed one small thing But I will now have a different stance

Who am I I’m a person who loves to bike I prefer forests that smell like pine And the smell of the ocean when I’m out on a hike Who am I I was born amongst the city Like a cat in a group of dogs I clawed my way home without pity Who am I The mountain calls me And I answer on my bike and board Like a home without a key Who am I I’m part of my family No matter how I act I’ll stay with them happily Who am I I’m a musician with his guitar With a pic that crawls its way into my hands It’s a feeling that’s so bizarre Who am I I’m the person that will take on any challenge No matter how gruelling Even if I end up having to scavenge That’s who I am

The mountains are my safe place, my home, my bed. The trees are wooden buildings that’ll out live me. The ocean is the calm relief of sleep. The grass is a green pillow to lay my head. The loud noisy streams are a song that’s perfectly in key. And the animals are the people who leave without a peep.

Blinding lights shining in my eyes All I can hear is the crowd My pick felling much too heavy in my hands The opening notes play The sound grabbing me Then I play I let the sound carry me like waves The crowd pulls me along The same crowd that once sounded so overwhelming The closing chord plays like a sigh of relief I’m flying And I’m never coming down The lights are no longer too bright The pick no longer too heavy A once in a lifetime high

Far foreign cities and fields Tall towering tremendous towns Lively little lovely lakes Buildings built for breakfast and books billowing the scents of baking Small skinny streets standing still Terrible traffic traps travellers, air trilling with terrible horns Family and friends formally forgive Cold clouds drop corse compact snow thats cold on your tongue Loud lazy people live life loudly My mini house manages through madness

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