So... This one was an assignment for my lit class. We were to write about the "roles" we play in our lives and whatnot. And then this is how mine came out. I hope you guys enjoy this one! Feedback would be nice! And, as I am quite curious and whatnot, I wanna hear more than just "that's nice" and whatnot. I would like to hear the reasons for why it's nice and whatnot... But if you don't, then oh well. -shrugs-

---
A stranger in the desert,
walking
searching
hoping to find
that oasis hidden�
by the powerful forces
thrown by life.
A thirst
for the cool water
filled with the feeling of knowing
that he�ll live for another day.
A body
that aches
from the solitude
casted on him
by God himself.
A heart�
yearning to escape
from the coldness of the desert.
And eyes,
eyes tainted
from the painful experiences,
that look
for a deceased hope.

The stranger,
A magnificent composer
of words
One who brings
into this world
wondrous and powerful poetry.
Stories and poetry that hold
a much deeper meaning,
a powerful meaning,
that can bring
tears to people�s eyes
or laughter to their lives,
brightening their faces.
Words
that relive the powerful emotions
felt in his life
and tell of the experiences
that nobody should go through
at such an age.
A writer
poet
teller of memories,
that is who he is.

A player
an admirer
one who puts his all
into a game
a dream
an escape
from the troubles of ft his world
One who risks his all
on something so enjoying.
Someone who has
such a deeper meaning
to a game so simple.
A person
who destroys his body
for the love of the game�

An intellect
who lazes around.
One who gladly
helps and tutors those who ask.
An unmotivated student
who ignores the teaching
and stares
at the drifting clouds.
A deep thinker,
pondering the many things
that life seems to throw,
and trying to find a way
to stop them.

A brother,
one of the youngest,
who sits and watches
his other siblings excel
in so many categories.
And he,
a bystander,
wonders when his time will come�
when his time will come
when he can finally
step off of the sidelines
and feel the wondrous things
they have felt.

He,
seen in the eyes of others,
is a pal
a friend
a loyal brother.
Somebody
who could be trusted,
depended on
a person
that�ll help them up
when they fall down.
A friend,
one who�s always willing
to walk with somebody
and help carry the things
that weigh on someone else�s
aching, numb shoulders.
A friend
that looks
through somebody else�s cold eyes
and sees the turmoil,
feeling the same
that they do.

Who is he?
Who is the one
who treks through the desert?
This stranger,
a writer
an athlete
an intellect
a friend,
is nothing more
than a stranger.
The stranger,
a wanderer, only travels
from one foreign place
to the next,
searching for what was lost.
He feels
none of the numbing pain
none of the thirst
none of the heartache.
He only moves on,
wondering nothing
but one thing:
When will this ever end?

It's a pretty decent poem. Nice work.

There some sentences should be combined together. not seperate."walking and searching" It is a bit strange, but okay. And, is teacher tell you to make long poem? I think if the content isn't interesting enough, long poem will make readers get bored. There are some meanings overlapping,
"Who is he?
Who is the one
who treks through the desert?"
you should write it more concisely.
It is good try.