Biography of Jacob Gifford
i write all my poems, iv been writting sense 8th grade only 2 years as of 12-1-10
Jacob Gifford Poems
What Is School Like?
School is like a prison We can’t leave, School is like an island
I’m a weed on A cliff, I hang out with An eagle, but maybe the Flowers are the weeds.
When the earth quacks, and the forest shakes, the animals run and cower But when it's all over the earth
I Love You For The Millionth Time
What Is The Point Of Life
What is the point of life if it is just disappointments? What is the point of life if we are just going to die? What is the point of life if we just get divorced? What is the point of life if we just get in trouble?
Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter
Soft fluffy Snow fresh on frozen ground, Green grass, and newly blue blooming buds bulging from all around,
Every Day Is A New Day
Every sky’s a brand new sky, uncanny once again, And every kiss, a brand new kiss, new one, no matter when. And every love, a brand new love, new cherished every day, Through lips and heart may slowly age, the awe-struck boy will stay.
I’m Here To Stay
Despite the doubts and troubles, that you have gone through, There is no doubt about are love. Though many now change partners when they want to, You’ve found your one and chosen not to move.
You'Ll Never Know How Much I Love You
My love for you will infinitely grow, I promise I love you with all my body, heart, and soul. When I feel your skin, at first touch,
I Didn'T Mean Too
If I had a rose for every sorry, I'd have picked a whole field. I'm sorry for all I have put you through,
I'M Still Here Waiting
I'm sorry for the day I had to leave, But you got to believe, It wasn't goodbye,
Walk This Earth With Your Hands In Mine
Don't ever let go, Don't ever give in! Hold me close, Hold me tight,
I Hope You Remember Me
My love for Her will last forever, Her skin against mine, as soft as a feather,
Beatin With A Bat
My heart, has no pulse, as beatless as the dead, and as soft as clay,
I’m a weed on
A cliff, I hang out with
An eagle, but maybe the
Flowers are the weeds.
I’m free and they
Are not, I cling to rocks,
They cling to a pot of dirt.
When there is an earthquake
I will be safe but the flowers