Jennifer L. Walker

Meadville, PA

Who ever would have guessed that this three-year-old face and her poetry would be displayed by the International Poetry Hall of Fame's Museum on the Internet's World Wide Web? At the age of twenty-three I am honored and elated beyond belief. If you wish to know about the person behind this face read my poetry. That's where I am. That's where I live and breathe. I feel my writing and I are one, and my poetry does the talking.

The Heart's Winter Nights

Cold and silent
throbbing from the pain
of unsatisfied hunger
for a warm embrace
Reaching out to the world's hand
Trying to find
a place to stand
Trying to find
the tools it takes
to warm the winter
that cools the spring
Fighting to find
the courage I need
to find myself.
The part of me
who gets lost in the crowd
pushed aside
The part of me
that's afraid to find
the very things I seek.

Less Than Perfect

in the beginning
given away
crawling walking
cooing crying
walking talking
in the way
learning trying
to do and say
things that are right
studying striving
to make the grade
studying striving
for perfection
impossible to achieve
yet still I try
to please those
who can never
be pleased

The Urge To Create

It's a force inside
trying to burst free
yet, it's a secret treasure
wanting to hide.
It's laughing and shrieking
ready for triumph
yet, it's timid and shy
searching for safety.
It's the very tip
of the highest mountain
yet, it's the breakage
of the valley below.
It's the talent within me.
It's bursting free.
It's striving to be somebody
and it's me!