U sually looking out at the window

A ll day at home, maintaining to be social distance

R arely get bored at home

A lot of homework for us students to do

N urses and doctors are the real heroes right now during this pandemic

T ime goes by that people wonder when will the world be safe again

I solating ourselves is what we should do

N ot a day goes by when we don’t think about the COVID -19

E veryone stay safe in your homes, We’re all in this together

But blue and red are still the colors I see 

Counting down this very year  

Don’t quit now, the end is near 

Endless laughter and memories to be made  

For here it is, my SENIOR YEAR 

GPA, SAT, CREDITS, CREDITS that’s all I need, to fulfill the year ahead of me 

Highschool diploma is all I’ve dreamed and here it is, so very near  

Is it time for SAT’s? This will determine where I’ll be  

Just around the corner, the time is nearly here   

Kicking butt all through the year. Look at how I’ve gotten here   

Looking back at these past years, Lamar has given me four great years  

Mom and family are so proud, looking forward to screaming loud. 

Now’s the time for preparation – cap and gown and salutations 

Oh no, what is happening now?! The world is changing, I don’t know how 

Prom is cancelled, there’s fear of spread 

Quarantine! Quarantine! It’s all I hear! Here we are, all stuck in the house, nothing to do and no place to be 

Realization has just set in, COVID is hear and panic has spread 

Soap and sanitizer have become delicacies. Sports and schools, we will not see. 

Toilet tissue has become such a rarity 

Underlying issues now the government sees, essential jobs have a new meaning to me. 

Virtual reality is the new life for me 

Will I walk or will it flop? 

Extra time is what we all need 

Year has nearly ended, and what will this new world have for me? 

Zzzzzzzz! Oh, what a dream! Oh…wait, I guess this was reality…. 

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;   

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools
....
 If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   

    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

    If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   

    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

*Submitted by Eesha Bilal

The thick notes between green apple breasts. 

Then the shadow of the devil descends, 

The violent space cries and angel eyes, 

Large and dark, retreat in innocence and in ice. 

(Run sister run—the Bugga man comes!) 

The violent space cries silently, 

Like you cried wide years ago 

In another space, speckled by the sun 

And the leaves of a green plum tree, 

And you were stung 

By a red wasp and we flew home. 

(Run sister run—the Bugga man comes!) 

Well, hell, lil sis, wasps still sting. 

You are all of seventeen and as alone now 

In your pain as you were with the sting 

On your brow. 

Well, shit. lil sis, here we are: 

You and I and this poem. 

And what should I do? should I squat 

In the dust and make strange markings on the ground? 

Shall I chant a spell to drive the demon away? 

(Run sister run—the Bugga man comes!) 

In the beginning you were the Virgin Mary, 

And you are the Virgin Mary now. 

But somewhere between Nazareth and Bethlehem

You lost your name in the nameless void. 

'O Mary don't you weep don't you moan' 

O Mary shake your butt to the violent juke, 

Absord the demon puke and watch the whites eyes pop, 

(Run sister run—the Bugga man comes!) 

And what do I do. I boil my tears in a twisted spoon 

And dance like an angel on the point of a needle. 

I sit counting syllables like Midas gold. 

I am not bold. I cannot yet take hold of the demon

And lift his weight from you black belly, 

So I grab the air and sing my song. 

(But the air cannot stand my singing long.)

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -"

       The sullen wind was soon awake,

It tore the elm-tops down for spite,

       And did its worst to vex the lake:

       I listened with heart fit to break.

When glided in Porphyria; straight

       She shut the cold out and the storm,

And kneeled and made the cheerless grate

       Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;

       Which done, she rose, and from her form

Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,

       And laid her soiled gloves by, untied

Her hat and let the damp hair fall,

       And, last, she sat down by my side

       And called me. When no voice replied,

She put my arm about her waist,

       And made her smooth white shoulder bare,

And all her yellow hair displaced,

       And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,

       And spread, o'er all, her yellow hair,

Murmuring how she loved me — she

       Too weak, for all her heart's endeavour,

To set its struggling passion free

       From pride, and vainer ties dissever,

       And give herself to me for ever.

But passion sometimes would prevail,

       Nor could to-night's gay feast restrain

A sudden thought of one so pale

       For love of her, and all in vain:

       So, she was come through wind and rain.

Be sure I looked up at her eyes

       Happy and proud; at last I knew

Porphyria worshipped me; surprise

       Made my heart swell, and still it grew

       While I debated what to do.

That moment she was mine, mine, fair,

       Perfectly pure and good: I found

A thing to do, and all her hair

       In one long yellow string I wound

       Three times her little throat around,

And strangled her. No pain felt she;

       I am quite sure she felt no pain.

As a shut bud that holds a bee,

       I warily oped her lids: again

       Laughed the blue eyes without a stain.

And I untightened next the tress

       About her neck; her cheek once more

Blushed bright beneath my burning kiss:

       I propped her head up as before,

       Only, this time my shoulder bore

Her head, which droops upon it still:

       The smiling rosy little head,

So glad it has its utmost will,

       That all it scorned at once is fled,

       And I, its love, am gained instead!

Porphyria's love: she guessed not how

       Her darling one wish would be heard.

And thus we sit together now,

       And all night long we have not stirred,

       And yet God has not said a word!

by  Brad Aaron Modlin 

Mrs. Nelson explained how to stand still and listen
 to the wind, how to find meaning in pumping gas,

how peeling potatoes can be a form of prayer. She took
 questions on how not to feel lost in the dark

After lunch she distributed worksheets
 that covered ways to remember your grandfather’s

voice. Then the class discussed falling asleep
 without feeling you had forgotten to do something else—

something important—and how to believe
 the house you wake in is your home. This prompted

Mrs. Nelson to draw a chalkboard diagram detailing
 how to chant the Psalms during cigarette breaks,

and how not to squirm for sound when your own thoughts
 are all you hear; also, that you have enough.

The English lesson was that I am
is a complete sentence.

And just before the afternoon bell, she made the math equation
 look easy. The one that proves that hundreds of questions,

and feeling cold, and all those nights spent looking
 for whatever it was you lost, and one person

add up to something.

Mrs. Nelson explained how to stand still and listen
 to the wind, how to find meaning in pumping gas,

how peeling potatoes can be a form of prayer. She took
 questions on how not to feel lost in the dark

After lunch she distributed worksheets
 that covered ways to remember your grandfather’s

voice. Then the class discussed falling asleep
 without feeling you had forgotten to do something else—

something important—and how to believe
 the house you wake in is your home. This prompted

Mrs. Nelson to draw a chalkboard diagram detailing
 how to chant the Psalms during cigarette breaks,

and how not to squirm for sound when your own thoughts
 are all you hear; also, that you have enough.

The English lesson was that I am
is a complete sentence.

And just before the afternoon bell, she made the math equation
 look easy. The one that proves that hundreds of questions,

and feeling cold, and all those nights spent looking
 for whatever it was you lost, and one person

add up to something.

seeks happiness, it's true,
But finding it and keeping it

seem difficult to do.

Difficult because we think

that happiness is found

Only in the places where

wealth and fame abound.

And so we go on searching

in palaces of pleasure

Seeking recognition

and monetary treasure,

Unaware that happiness

is just a state of mind

Within the reach of everyone

who takes time to be kind.

 

For in making others happy

we will be happy, too.

For the happiness you give away

returns to shine on you.

From thinking life is full of possibilities

To realizing life is full of obstacles 

From thinking you can conquer the world

To realizing how hard, you have to work to accomplish something

From how easy it was building castles in your room 

To how hard it is to build a good home 

From lighthearted fights that end with forgiving hugs 

To hurtful fights that end with unforgivable grudges  

From playing with monopoly money not knowing the value of it

To directly revolving your life around finances

Reality hits you

And suddenly you don’t want to grow up anymore 

 

By: Ashly Linares

I remember-
of days so long in the past
when I wished I would grow up so fast.

I remember-
endless races we had to school.
Coming first ensured you were cool.

I remember-
the sudden hot summer's rain,
dancing 'round and 'round again.

I remember-
playing in the luscious grass
with all my friends in my class.

I remember-
the spooky monsters under my bed;
Mum and Dad said it was all in my head.

I remember-
when I grew to be as old as ten,
my dad made me a tree-house as my den.

I remember-
hide-and-seek was the best game,
but as we grew up it became so lame.

I remember-
Haribos were as good as gold.
I will have as many as I want when I am old.

I remember-
when I wanted to be a king
with a large throne and a diamond ring.

I remember-
my first camping trip
or my first time on a ship.

I remember-
when I broke my wrist
all the fun is what I missed.

I remember-
Mr. Cuddles, my first teddy bear.
I loved him so much and took him everywhere.

Now that I am grey and old,
My childhood memories I have told.

The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.

Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in.

I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly

As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.

I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.

I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses

And my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons.
They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff

Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.

Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.

The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,

They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,

Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,

So it is impossible to tell how many there are. 
My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water

Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.

They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.

Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage——

My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,

My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;

Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.
I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat

stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.

They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.

Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley

I watched my teaser, my bureaus of linen, my books

Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.

I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.
I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted

To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.

How free it is, you have no idea how free——

The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,

And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.

It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them

Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.

The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.

Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe

Lightly, through their white swaddling, like an awful baby.

Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.

They are subtle : they seem to float, though they weigh me down,

Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their color,

A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.

Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.

The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me

Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,

And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow

Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,

And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.

The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

Before they came the air was calm enough,

Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.

Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.

Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river

Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.

They concentrate my attention, that was happy

Playing and resting without committing itself.

The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.

The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;

They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,

And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes

Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.

The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,

And comes from a country far away as health.

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

No matter where you go. 

Laughing and joking is simple to do 

When having a friend as grand as you. 

Easy to talk to, fun to hang around 

Driving in our cars all around town. 

Wherever we may end up, you must always know

I’ll always be there and never let go. 
- Kayleigh Holcombe

I love the way you sleep, waddle, and eat,

Invading my mind day and through the night,

Always dreaming about the creepy meat. <---- (It is the treats at petsmart. He doesn't like them at all.)

Let me compare you to a crazy fly?

You are more tedious, physco, and large.
Loud drought dries the flat picnics of July,
and summer time has the proud bursting charge.

 

How do I love you? Let me count the ways.
I love your bolognese eyes and smile.

How your personality fills my days!
My love for you is eternal.

 

Now I must away with a roaring heart,

Remember my dull words whilst we are apart.

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherized upon a table;

Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,

The muttering retreats

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:

Streets that follow like a tedious argument

Of insidious intent

To lead you to an overwhelming question ...

Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”

Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,

The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,

Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,

Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,

Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,

Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,

And seeing that it was a soft October night,

Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,

Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

There will be time to murder and create,

And time for all the works and days of hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time

To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”

Time to turn back and descend the stair,

With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —

(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)

My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,

My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —

(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)

Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;

I know the voices dying with a dying fall

Beneath the music from a farther room.

               So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—

The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,

And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?

               And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—

Arms that are braceleted and white and bare

(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)

Is it perfume from a dress

That makes me so digress?

Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.

               And should I then presume?

               And how should I begin?

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets

And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes

Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!

Smoothed by long fingers,

Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,

Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.

Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,

Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?

But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,

Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,

I am no prophet — and here’s no great matter;

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,

And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,

After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,

Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,

Would it have been worth while,

To have bitten off the matter with a smile,

To have squeezed the universe into a ball

To roll it towards some overwhelming question,

To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,

Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—

If one, settling a pillow by her head

               Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;

               That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,

Would it have been worth while,

After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,

After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—

And this, and so much more?—

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:

Would it have been worth while

If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,

And turning toward the window, should say:

               “That is not it at all,

               That is not what I meant, at all.”

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;

At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—

Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old ... I grow old ...

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind?   Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves

Combing the white hair of the waves blown back

When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea

By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown

Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

- Maya Angelou 

It’s easy to play it’s as easy as 1,2,3

There’s a lot of different sports but soccer is the best

When you hear that whistle it’s like the cannon to let a war between warriors begin

Getting the ball inside the goal and then setting of the crowd hearing the screams from a thousand miles away

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It truly is the greatest sport

   In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

   By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

   Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

   I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

   Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

   My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

   And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

   In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

   Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

   In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

   Of those who were older than we—

   Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

   Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

   In her sepulchre there by the sea—

   In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Whatever is happening to me,

No matter how heavy my heart is

Or how dark the moment may be-

If I can remain calm and quiet

With all the world crashing about me,

Secure in the knowledge God loves me

When everyone else seems to doubt me-

If I can but keep on believing

What I know in my heart to be true,

That darkness will fade with the morning

And that this will pass away, too-

Then nothing in life can defeat me

For as long as this knowledge remains

I can suffer whatever is happening

For I know God will break all of the chains

That are binding me tight in the darkness

And trying to fill me with fear-

For there is no night without dawning

And I know that my morning is near.

I turn to you, you're all I see
Our love's a monster with two heads and one heartbeat
I turn to you, you're all I see
Our love's a monster with two heads and one heartbeat
We just got caught up in the moment
Why don't you call me in the morning instead
Before we turn into a monster
Before we turn into a monster with two heads
I hope to God I'll love you harder
I hope to God I'll love you longer
If only I could live forever
If only I could hold you longer

Long, too long America,

Traveling roads all even and peaceful you learn'd from joys and prosperity only,

But now, ah now, to learn from crises of anguish, advancing, grappling with direst fate and recoiling not,

And now to conceive and show to the world what your children en-masse really are,

(For who except myself has yet conceiv'd what your children en-masse really are?)

Johnny brought a gun to school
He told his friends that it was cool,
And when he pulled the trigger back,
It shot with a great crack.
Mommy, I was a good girl,
I did what I was told,
I went to school, I got straight A's,
I even got the gold!
But Mommy, when I went to school that day,
I never said good-bye,
I'm sorry Mommy, I had to go,
But Mommy, please don't cry.
When Johnny shot the gun,
He hit me and another
And all because Johnny,
Got the gun from his older brother.
Please tell Daddy;
That I love him very much,
And please tell Chris; my boyfriend;
That it wasn't just a crush.
And tell my little sister;
That she is the only one now,
And tell my dear sweet grandmother;
I'll be waiting for her now,
And tell my
wonderful friends;
That they always were the best;
Mommy, I'm not the first,
I'm no better than the rest.
Mommy, tell my teachers;
I won't show up for class,
And never to forget this,
And please don't let this pass.
Mommy, why'd it have to be me?
No one deserves this,
Mommy, warn the others,
Mommy, I left without a kiss.
And Mommy tell the doctors;
I know they really did try,
I think I even saw a doctor,
Trying not to cry.
Mommy, I'm slowly dying,
With a bullet in my chest,
But Mommy please remember,
I'm in heaven with the rest.
Mommy I ran as fast as I could,
When I heard that crack,
Mommy, listen to me if you would,
I wanted to go to college;
I wanted to try things that were new,
I guess I'm not going with Daddy,
On that trip to the new zoo.
I wanted to get married, I
wanted to have a kid,
I wanted to be an actress,
Mommy, I wanted to live.
But Mommy I must go now,
The time is getting late,
Mommy, tell my Chris,
I'm sorry but I had to cancel the date.
I love you Mommy,
I always have, you know it's true,
And Mommy all I wanted to say it,
'Mommy, I love you.'

Submitted by Taggart Atwood

I know, my friend, that happiness
Is not a chance or a success;
It's in your heart, it's choice of yours.
You can create, you have a force.

So smile and laugh out loud, my friend!
You were so tired to try again,
To find the answer in the world.
But it's in you, you are the door,

And you're the key. So celebrate!
You're here to love and to create,
To share a joy, to have much fun!
You are Creator. Be the one!

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them
                                                              I look at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together for the first time
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism
just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me
and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them
when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank
or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider as carefully as the horse
it seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience
which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I’m telling you about it

In that shoreless ocean,
at thy silently listening smile my songs would swell in melodies,
free as waves, free from all bondage of words.

Is the time not come yet?
Are there works still to do?
Lo, the evening has come down upon the shore
and in the fading light the seabirds come flying to their nests.

Who knows when the chains will be off,
and the boat, like the last glimmer of sunset,
vanish into the night?

      That is seated by the sea;

Often in thought go up and down

The pleasant streets of that dear old town,

      And my youth comes back to me.

            And a verse of a Lapland song

            Is haunting my memory still:

      "A boy's will is the wind's will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I can see the shadowy lines of its trees,

      And catch, in sudden gleams,

The sheen of the far-surrounding seas,

And islands that were the Hesperides

      Of all my boyish dreams.

            And the burden of that old song,

            It murmurs and whispers still:

      "A boy's will is the wind's will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I remember the black wharves and the slips,

      And the sea-tides tossing free;

And Spanish sailors with bearded lips,

And the beauty and mystery of the ships,

      And the magic of the sea.

            And the voice of that wayward song

            Is singing and saying still:

      "A boy's will is the wind's will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I remember the bulwarks by the shore,

      And the fort upon the hill;

The sunrise gun, with its hollow roar,

The drum-beat repeated o'er and o'er,

      And the bugle wild and shrill.

            And the music of that old song

            Throbs in my memory still:

      "A boy's will is the wind's will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I remember the sea-fight far away,

      How it thundered o'er the tide!

And the dead captains, as they lay

In their graves, o'erlooking the tranquil bay,

      Where they in battle died.

            And the sound of that mournful song

            Goes through me with a thrill:

      "A boy's will is the wind's will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I can see the breezy dome of groves,

      The shadows of Deering's Woods;

And the friendships old and the early loves

Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves

      In quiet neighborhoods.

            And the verse of that sweet old song,

            It flutters and murmurs still:

      "A boy's will is the wind's will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I remember the gleams and glooms that dart

      Across the school-boy's brain;

The song and the silence in the heart,

That in part are prophecies, and in part

      Are longings wild and vain.

            And the voice of that fitful song

            Sings on, and is never still:

      "A boy's will is the wind's will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

There are things of which I may not speak;

      There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

      And a mist before the eye.

            And the words of that fatal song

            Come over me like a chill:

      "A boy's will is the wind's will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

      When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o'ershadow each well-known street,

      As they balance up and down,

            Are singing the beautiful song,

            Are sighing and whispering still:

      "A boy's will is the wind's will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair,

      And with joy that is almost pain

My heart goes back to wander there,

And among the dreams of the days that were,

      I find my lost youth again.

            And the strange and beautiful song,

            The groves are repeating it still:

      "A boy's will is the wind's will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

 Roses are red,
 Violets are blue,
An advice is kind,
And so are you.

Orchids are white,
 Ghost ones are rare,
Your coat is silky,
And so is your hair.

Magnolia grows,
 With buds like eggs,
A scale is toned,
And so are your legs.

Sunflowers reach,
 Up to the skies,
Foliage is green,
And so are your eyes.

Foxgloves in hedges,
 Surround the farms,
Days are warm,
And so are your arms.

Daisies are pretty,
 Daffies have style,
The difference is big,
And so is your smile.

A rose is beautiful,
 Just like you.

   In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

   By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

   Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

   I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

   Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

   My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

   And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

   In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

   Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

   In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

   Of those who were older than we—

   Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

   Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

   In her sepulcher there by the sea

   In her tomb by the sounding sea.

(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she

(let's go said he
not too far said she
what's too far said he
where you are said she)

may i stay said he
(which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she

may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you're willing said he
(but you're killing said she

but it's life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she

(tiptop said he
don't stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she

(cccome?said he
ummm said she)
you're divine!said he
(you are Mine said she)

This poem really resonates with me because it is a tribute to love, but at the same time also kinda makes fun of the dating rituals now. I feel it is both bold, yet romantic. I think it also allows us to understand that relationships that are no strings attached are just as hard to come by as true love. 

The strength and wisdom I need to break free 

The Thousands of women who’s blood shed for me 

Crying for me 

When I can’t get back on my feet from being hurt by the way you treat me 

Ohhhh I feel my ancestors pour into 

Warm fingers that cover me 

With love 

Help me sheld away the cold of you hating me 

Why do you hate me when I did everything to provide u with peace

All

I ever ask for was solidarity and you and i’s unity, but yet you play like a dog. 

You run through mud and piss on everything that is good of mines and remind me while

This will never work. 

You want more than I’m willing to offer and yet some how your cup is full. 

I ask for you to share and you open your hand with empty palms. 

The biggest insult to me. 

Cause baby when I sleep, I dream of you
And when I'm awake, that's all I do
Think about every detail you have

Do you notice when I get mad, I clench my jaw?
Do you notice when I get sad, I tend to fall?
Look at my words I say to you

Cause I notice when you get mad
You close your eyes
And I notice when you are sad
You let out sighs

I need to know are those sighs ever over me?

Do you know how in love with you
I am
Do you see how in love with you
I am

Every thing that you do, it makes my heart stop
Oh, it stops

And baby when you sleep, do you dream of me?

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

I love you as a sheriff searches for a walnut
That will solve a murder case unsolved for years
Because the murderer left it in the snow beside a window
Through which he saw her head, connecting with
Her shoulders by a neck, and laid a red
Roof in her heart. For this we live a thousand years;
For this we love, and we live because we love, we are not
Inside a bottle, thank goodness! I love you as a
Kid searches for a goat; I am crazier than shirttails
In the wind, when you’re near, a wind that blows from
The big blue sea, so shiny so deep and so unlike us;
I think I am bicycling across an Africa of green and white fields
Always, to be near you, even in my heart
When I’m awake, which swims, and also I believe that you
Are trustworthy as the sidewalk which leads me to
The place where I again think of you, a new
Harmony of thoughts! I love you as the sunlight leads the prow
Of a ship which sails
From Hartford to Miami, and I love you
Best at dawn, when even before I am awake the sun
Receives me in the questions which you always pose.

BY JEFFREY MCDANIEL

In an effort to get people to look

into each other’s eyes more,

and also to appease the mutes,

the government has decided

to allot each person exactly one hundred   

and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear   

without saying hello. In the restaurant   

I point at chicken noodle soup.

I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,   

proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.   

When she doesn’t respond,

I know she’s used up all her words,   

so I slowly whisper I love you

thirty-two and a third times.

After that, we just sit on the line   

and listen to each other breathe.

(submitted by Natalie Mafrige)

To overcome the tragedies,
To survive the hardest times.
To face those moments filled with pain,
And still manage to be kind.

To fight for those who can’t themselves,
To always share my light.
With those who wander in the dark,
To love with all my might.

To still stand up with courage,
Though standing on my own.
To still get up and face each day,
Even when I feel alone.

To try to understand the ones
That no one cares to know.
And make them feel some value
When the world has let them go.

To be an anchor, strong and true,
That person loyal to the end.
To be a constant source of hope
To my family and my friends.

To live a life of decency,
To share my heart and soul.
To always say I’m sorry
When I’ve harmed both friend and foe.

To be proud of whom I’ve tried to be,
And this life I chose to live.
To make the most of every day
By giving all I have to give.

To me that’s what this life should be,
To me that’s what it’s for.
To take what God has given me
And make it so much more

To live a life that matters,
To be someone of great worth.
To love and be loved in return
And make my mark on Earth.

To believe is to see angels
dancing among the clouds,
To know the wonder of a stardust sky
and the wisdom of the man in the moon.

To believe is to know the value of a nurturing heart,
The innocence of a child's eyes
and the beauty of an aging hand,
for it is through their teachings we learn to love.

To believe is to find the strength
and courage that lies within us
When it's time to pick up
the pieces and begin again.

To believe is to know
we are not alone,
That life is a gift
and this is our time to cherish it.

To believe is to know
that wonderful surprises are just
waiting to happen,
And all our hopes and dreams are within reach.

If only we believe.
by B.J. Morbitzer

Submitted by: Maddie Gonzales

By a wailing alarm and my slumber is curbed

I open my eyes, and roll out of bed

Stretching my arms and rubbing my head

I wrinkle my face at the unwelcome brightness

And head to the bathroom to take care of business

Brush my teeth right, to save the enamel

Give my face a quick wash with a trusty old flannel
 

Throw on a top and accompaniments 

Then do it again coz it’s all back to front

Into the kitchen to feed the cat

She’s shouting and screaming and we just can't have that

The idea of work's not a pleasant one

But there’s bills to be paid so it’s gotta be done

I'm running late so I must be away

But time for a coffee then I’m set for the day

Submitted by Ermis Zacharopoulos

orange fins, red flankspots, a char

shy as ginseng, found only

in spring-flow gaps, the thin clear

of faraway creeks no map

could name. My cousin showed me

those hidden places. I loved

how we found them, the way we

followed no trail, just stream-sound

tangled in rhododendron,

to where slow water opened

a hole to slip a line in,

and lift as from a well bright

shadows of another world,

held in my hand, their color

already starting to fade.

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

If butterflies knew they were beautiful when they were eggs?

Like how we don’t know our true beauty.

Have you ever wondered,

If butterflies felt insecure when they were caterpillars?

Like how we always feel that we’re not enough.

Have you ever wondered,

Why butterflies are protected in pupas to fully grow?

Like how we are loved and cared for to become a beautiful human being.

Have you ever wondered,

If butterflies knew that one day, they will be able to fly?

Just like how we pursue our dreams.

Have you ever wondered,

If butterflies are sad when they are reaching the end of their lifespan?

Just like we get older every day.

Have you ever wondered,

If butterflies love their eggs when they lay them?

Like mothers love their children.

Humans or butterflies, we get insecure sometimes

Humans or butterflies, we are all unique and beautiful

Humans or butterflies, we grow from our flaws

Humans or butterflies, we chase our goals

Humans or butterflies, we grow old

Humans or butterflies, we love and care for each other. 

 

It brings me a light and brightens my day.

When all is gloomy, and I see no ends

In dance I find joy, and in dance I find friends.

My team is my home and my team is my life.

When I go to dance, I let go of my strife.

Working day in and working day out

Even through rain and even through drought

I find peace in the music and value in the movement

Each day I grow strong and strive for improvement

Sometimes it’s hard as all things may be

But in dance I find happiness and in dance I find me

I express through each count and let free my soul

Without dance I’m empty and in my heart grows a hole.

Though when I step on that floor all my feelings let go

And now I’m free with my dancing and can go with the flow

Through struggle I find compassion and in hard times dedication

Then dance helps me grow and release my imagination.

Leap high and often is my advice to you

Because when I’m falling apart, dance is my glue

Nature’s first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

Submitted by Lisa Rollinson

on the back of the wind   

and floats downstream   

till the current ends

and dips his wing

in the orange sun rays

and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage

can seldom see through

his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and   

his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings   

with a fearful trill   

of things unknown   

but longed for still   

and his tune is heard   

on the distant hill   

for the caged bird   

sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn

and he names the sky his own

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams   

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream   

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied   

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings   

with a fearful trill   

of things unknown   

but longed for still   

and his tune is heard   

on the distant hill   

for the caged bird   

sings of freedom.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,—act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

As I began to love myself
I understood how much it can offend somebody
if I try to force my desires on this person,
even though I knew the time was not right
and the person was not ready for it,
and even though this person was me.
Today I call this Respect.

As I began to love myself
I stopped craving for a different life,
and I could see that everything
that surrounded me
was inviting me to grow.
Today I call this Maturity.

As I began to love myself
I understood that at any circumstance,
I am in the right place at the right time,
and everything happens at the exactly right moment.
So I could be calm.
Today I call this Self-Confidence.

As I began to love myself
I quit stealing my own time,
and I stopped designing huge projects
for the future.
Today, I only do what brings me joy and happiness,
things I love to do and that make my heart cheer,
and I do them in my own way
and in my own rhythm.
Today I call this Simplicity.

As I began to love myself
I freed myself of anything
that is no good for my health –
food, people, things, situations,
and everything that drew me down
and away from myself.
At first I called this attitude a healthy egoism.
Today I know it is Love of Oneself.

As I began to love myself
I quit trying to always be right,
and ever since
I was wrong less of the time.
Today I discovered that is Modesty.

As I began to love myself
I refused to go on living in the past
and worrying about the future.
Now, I only live for the moment,
where everything is happening.
Today I live each day,
day by day,
and I call it Fulfillment.

As I began to love myself
I recognized
that my mind can disturb me
and it can make me sick.
But as I connected it to my heart,
my mind became a valuable ally.
Today I call this connection Wisdom of the Heart.

We no longer need to fear arguments,
confrontations or any kind of problems
with ourselves or others.
Even stars collide,
and out of their crashing, new worlds are born.
Today I know: This is Life!

I Have been stuck in the house all day

I don't know what to do

I am tired of my family 

I need to do something new

I go about day to day

Relaxing and working

My family is on edge they don't know what to say

I've been on the game so long these kids I be murking

Now I am on edge about to lose my mind

Sick and tired of doing the same thing like I am in repeat

I’ve lost it with my family it's hard to be kind

Mannnnnn I am tired imma just go and eat

All that cold, cold, wet day.
I sat there with Sally.

We sat there, we two.

And I said, “How I wish

We had something to do!”

Too wet to go out

And too cold to play ball.

So we sat in the house.

We did nothing at all.

So all we could do was to

Sit! Sit! Sit! Sit!

And we did not like it.

Not one little bit.

And then

Something went BUMP!

How that bump made us jump!

We looked!

Then we saw him step in on the mat!

We looked!

And we saw him!

The Cat in the Hat!

And he said to us, “Why do you sit there like that?”

“I know it is wet

And the sun is not sunny.

But we can have

Lots of good fun that is funny!”

“I know some good games we could play,”

Said the cat.

“I know some new tricks,”

Said the Cat in the Hat.

“A lot of good tricks.

I will show them to you.

Your mother

Will not mind at all if I do.”

Then Sally and I

Did not know what to say.

Our mother was out of the house

For the day.

I’m still learning how to whisper;
I’m often loud in places where I should be quiet,
I’m often quiet in places where I should be loud.
I was born feet first and I’ve been backwards ever since.
I like ginger ale… a lot.

I’ve been told that I give really bad hugs.
People say that it feels like I’m trying to escape;
Sometimes, it’s because I am.
Secretly, I get really nervous every time someone gets close enough to hear me breathe.

I have this odd fascination with things like sandcastles and ice sculptures;
I assume it’s because I usually find myself dedicating time to things that will only last a few moments.
That’s also why I tend to fall in love with women who will never love me back.
I know it sounds crazy but it’s actually much easier than it seems,
And to be honest, I think it’s safer that way.
You see, relationships, they often remind me that I’m not afraid of heights or falling,
But I’m scared of what’s gonna happen the moment that my body hits the ground.

I’m clumsy.
Yesterday, I tripped over my self-esteem, I landed on my pride, and it shattered like an iPhone with a broken face.
Now, I can’t even tell who’s trying to give me a compliment.
I’ve never been in the military but I have this purple heart;
I got it from beating myself up over things I can’t fix.

I know this sounds weird,
But sometimes, I wonder what my bed sheets say about me when I’m not around.
I wonder what the curtains would do if they found out about all the things I’ve done behind their backs.
I’ve got a hamper that’s overflowing with really, really loud mistakes, and a graveyard in my closet.
I’m afraid that if I let you see my skeletons, you’ll grind my bones into powder and get high on my fault lines.

Hi, my name is Rudy.
I enjoy frozen yogurt, people watching, and laughing for absolutely no reason at all,
But I don’t allow myself to cry as often as I need to.
I have solar-powered confidence.
I have a battery-operated smile.
My hobbies include editing my life story, hiding behind metaphors, and trying to convince my shadow that I’m someone worth following.

I don’t know much but I do know this;
I know that heaven is full of music.
I know God listens to my heartbeat on his iPod.
It reminds him that we still got work to do.

Cut me like a rose
Turn me like a beast
Hold me on the floor
Heavy like the force between us

I was a ghost

Halted in flight
Kneeling
There of the heart
God undertow
Feeling

I was only falling in love
I was only falling in love
I was only falling in love

Coming from the cold
Buried under heat
Lay you on the floor
Heavy like the force between us

Cut me like a rose
Turn me like a beast
Hold you to the floor
Heavy like the force between us

I was a ghost

Halted in flight
Bleeding
There of the heart

God undertow
Feeling

I was only falling in love
I was only falling in love
I was only falling…

I hear you whisper underneath your breath
I hear your SOS, your SOS

I will send out an army to find you
In the middle of the darkest night
It's true, I will rescue you

There is no distance
That cannot be covered
Over and over
You're not defenseless
I'll be your shelter
I'll be your armor

I hear you whisper underneath your breath
I hear your SOS, your SOS

I will send out an army to find you
In the middle of the darkest night
It's true, I will rescue you
I will never stop marching to reach you
In the middle of the hardest fight
It's true, I will rescue you

I hear the whisper underneath your breath
I hear you whisper, you have nothing left

I will send out an army to find you
In the middle of the darkest night
It's true, I will rescue you
I will never stop marching to reach you
In the middle of the hardest fight
It's true, I will rescue you

Oh, I will rescue you

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

With half faces and full eyes

like an ancient Egyptian picture

And for a short while.

I stroked your hair

In the opposite direction to your journey,

We called to each other,

Like calling out the names of towns

Where nobody stops

Along the route.

Lovely is the world rising early to evil,

Lovely is the world falling asleep to sin and pity,

In the mingling of ourselves, you and I,

Lovely is the world.

The earth drinks men and their loves

Like wine,

To forget.

It can't.

And like the contours of the Judean hills,

We shall never find peace.

In the middle of this century we turned to each other,

I saw your body, throwing shade, waiting for me,

The leather straps for a long journey

Already tightening across my chest.

I spoke in praise of your mortal hips,

You spoke in praise of my passing face,

I stroked your hair in the direction of your journey,

I touched your flesh, prophet of your end,

I touched your hand which has never slept,

I touched your mouth which may yet sing.

Dust from the desert covered the table

At which we did not eat

But with my finger I wrote on it

The letters of your name.

 

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

    Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

    From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

            Nameless here for evermore.

You no longer sit in my mind poisoning my views

You called me fragile like it’s a bad thing,

But maybe glass just isn’t for you

I still take everything day by day

But I’m glad to see you doing okay

I really do wonder if I cross your mind 

And if it’s as often as you cross mine

Actually I don’t think I miss someone new,

I think I’m still in love with you.

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.
- Submitted by Dua Rashid

   And the rivers with the ocean,

The winds of heaven mix for ever

   With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

   All things by a law divine

In one spirit meet and mingle.

   Why not I with thine?—

See the mountains kiss high heaven

   And the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

   If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth

   And the moonbeams kiss the sea:

What is all this sweet work worth

   If thou kiss not me?

Submitted by: Maxine Mooring

Like father, like two peas in a pod.
It’s in the country of the blind
we find ourselves kissing the auld sod.
A society is great when men plant

trees in which they’ll never seek shade.
Man does not live by half a loaf
while riding roughshod
over a house divided against itself.

I turn away, into the shaking room.

What was that sound that came in on the dark?
What is this maze of light it leaves us in?
What is this stance we take,
To turn away and then turn back?
What did we hear?

It was the breath we took when we first met.

Listen. It is here.

Submitted by: Ava Chaumier

Help me to name it
Help me to name it

If you built yourself a myth
You'd know just what to give
What comes after this
Momentary bliss
Consequence of what you do to me

Help me to name it
Help me to name it

Found yourself in a new direction
Arrows falling from the sun
Canyon calling, would they come to greet you?
Let you know you're not the only one

Can't keep hanging on
To all that's dead and gone
If you built yourself a myth
You'd know just what to give
Materialize
Or let the ashes fly

Help me to name it
Help me to name it

Do you wear

A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch,

A brace or a hook,

Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch,

Stitches to show something's missing? No, no? Then

How can we give you a thing?

Stop crying.

Open your hand.

Empty? Empty. Here is a hand

To fill it and willing

To bring teacups and roll away headaches

And do whatever you tell it.

Will you marry it?

It is guaranteed

To thumb shut your eyes at the end

And dissolve of sorrow.

We make new stock from the salt.

I notice you are stark naked.

How about this suit——

Black and stiff, but not a bad fit.

Will you marry it?

It is waterproof, shatterproof, proof

Against fire and bombs through the roof.

Believe me, they'll bury you in it.

Now your head, excuse me, is empty.

I have the ticket for that.

Come here, sweetie, out of the closet.

Well, what do you think of that?

Naked as paper to start

But in twenty-five years she'll be silver,

In fifty, gold.

A living doll, everywhere you look.

It can sew, it can cook,

It can talk, talk, talk.

It works, there is nothing wrong with it.

You have a hole, it's a poultice.

You have an eye, it's an image.

My boy, it's your last resort.

Will you marry it, marry it, marry it.

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand

Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

We've known each other for so long
Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it
Inside we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it

And if you ask me how I'm feeling
Don't tell me you're too blind to see

Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

Never gonna give, never gonna give
(Give you up)
(Ooh) Never gonna give, never gonna give
(Give you up)

We've known each other for so long
Your heart's been aching but you're too shy to say it
Inside we both know what's been going on
We know the game and we're gonna play it

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
Gotta make you understand

Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry
Never gonna say goodbye
Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
Never gonna run around and desert you
Never gonna make you cry

One day it's as small as a firefly in the palm of a bear

The next it's the bear

On those days I play dead until the bear leaves me alone

I call the bad days "the Dark Days"

Mom says, "try lighting candles"

But when I see a candle, I see the flesh of a church

The flicker of a flame

Sparks of a memory younger than noon

I am standing beside her open casket

It is the moment I learn every person I ever come to know will someday die

Besides Mom, I'm not afraid of the dark, perhaps that's part of the problem

Mom says, "I thought the problem was that you can't get out of bed"

I can't, anxiety holds me a hostage inside of my house, inside of my head

Mom says, "Where did anxiety come from?"

Anxiety is the cousin visiting from out of town that depression felt obligated to invite to the party

Mom, I am the party, only I am a party I don't want to be at

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.
Submitted by: Jonathan Rojas

Wait.
Don’t go too early.
You’re tired. But everyone’s tired.
But no one is tired enough.
Only wait a while and listen.
Music of hair,
Music of pain,
music of looms weaving all our loves again.
Be there to hear it, it will be the only time,
most of all to hear,
the flute of your whole existence,
rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion.

He is blind,

He does not know yet.

He sees toys and cartoons being played onto the flashy screen.

He fumbles with his toys,

A hero and a villain.

The villain who hurts the hero,

That is what he sees.

He hears crying and yelling

A battle among the Hero and the Villain

WHAM!

Villain strikes the hero,

hero falls, making no sound.

He hears nothing,

A nightmare silence.

 

The Villain walks away,

Swinging that door,

The door speaks a loud bang, like a shotgun.

He turns to watch the Villain step away,

Eyes the villain,

Is that a man?

He does not see yet.

Hero wakes, and caresses he

He thinks of Villain, a father,

No man, only evil.

He thinks of Hero, a mother.

He wants to become a Man, 

Not a villain.

He sees. 

is a bright crayon picture

of a dancing tree, the branches

tossed by island wind.

I draw myself standing beside the tree,

with a colorful parrot soaring above me,

and a magical turtle clasped in my hand,

and two yellow wings fluttering

on the proud shoulders of my ruffled

Cuban rumba dancer's

fancy dress.

In my California kindergarten class,

the teacher scolds me: REAL TREES

DON'T LOOK LIKE THAT.

It's the moment

when I first

begin to learn

that teachers

can be wrong.

They have never seen

the dancing plants

of Cuba.

The you were unaware
Of the scars they left
Until the mark was stuck there?

Never Beaten,
Untouched
Unless at your own request
But still never moving
Unless you are told to go

Has someone tried so hard
To break you 
Then mold you
Into the person they need you to be

I was lucky 
That he was too blind to see
I was too strong for him to break
Despite all my flaws, 
The chips in my paint
The cracks in my glass
He couldn't change who I am
So he gave up on me

Shine so bright

We shout words of joy

for other teams we hope to destroy 

The feeling before jumping on the mat

Sometimes feels like I might have a heart attack 

A team of sisters with ambision

with only one mission

I love to watch you play
Hear the sweet notes drift out of your saxophone
A lovely melody

You don't always see me
I listen all the same
Such lovely skill
escaping in the form of sound
coming out
of that wonderful saxophone

Maybe it's not the sound
That enchants me so
But the handsome player
Whom I get to call my own

My gorgeous love  
Smart and talented to the end

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.

And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
“Come, Boy,” she whispered,
“come and play.”
“I am too old and sad to play,”
said the boy.
“I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?”
“Cut down my trunk
and make a boat,” said the tree.
“Then you can sail away…
and be happy.”
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
… but not really.

And after a long time
the boy came back again.
“I am sorry, Boy,”
said the tree,” but I have nothing
left to give you –
My apples are gone.”
“My teeth are too weak
for apples,” said the boy.
“My branches are gone,”
said the tree. ” You
cannot swing on them – ”
“I am too old to swing
on branches,” said the boy.
“My trunk is gone, ” said the tree.
“You cannot climb – ”
“I am too tired to climb” said the boy.
“I am sorry,” sighed the tree.
“I wish that I could give you something….
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry….”
“I don’t need very much now,” said the boy.
“just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.”
“Well,” said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
“well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.”
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may tread me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

they have a heart like yours

but not everyone can be

as soft and tender as you

you don't see

the person they are

you see the person

they have the potential to be

you give and give till

they have taken everything

out of you and leave

you empty

- rupi kaur

Well, I keep on thinkin' 'bout you sister golden hair surprise

And I just can't live without you can't you see it in my eyes?

I been one poor correspondent and I been too, too hard to find

But it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind

   In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

   By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

   Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

   I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

   Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

   In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

   My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

   And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

   In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

   Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

   In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

   Of those who were older than we

   Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

   Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

   In her sepulchre there by the sea

   In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf’s a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

 

I remember
when you were young and wide eyed
excited at the possibility of the world
and afraid because it was all so big and you,
you were the smallest creature in a forest full of monsters

still, you had big dreams and wanted
so badly to write something
so unique and profound
something to make people understand you
understand themselves
see that we are all one
know that we all bleed the same
slippery shades of water color
even if the canvas is is different

Fear is an ugly thing and overshadows
and overwhelms, *******
the life out of life
and the colors out of the rainbow that
is supposed to shine overhead and keep
the bad the things at bay

it crawls into bed with you at night and
keeps you awake, drilling
everything that is wrong
straight through your skull and
into your soul like a
woodpecker, never ceasing
never letting you rest

there is so much that is so hard
to comprehend and make sense of
and it is so much easier to let the fear
take hold of you, wrap it's fingers
tightly around your neck
a noose growing ever tighter, strangling
while you struggle until
you have no voice left to speak

It left you choking
out fragments
and run-on sentences into a journal
that no one would ever see
that still makes me burn when
I flip through those pages reliving
the story of my life that you wrote
all those years ago

I remember
when you thought that no one could see you,
so you lived your life like a child
jumping up to see over the counter,
making make-shift ladders out of whatever
you could find so that you could grasp
everything that always seemed so far above your reach,
losing yourself so easily
in a sea of people
because they were so big
and you were
nothing

You words are a time capsule
that bring me back to a place when
when we stared at each other in the mirror
and curled our tiny fingers into a fist
wanting to smash the glass
because
we were ugly

But my words are a time machine,
my gift to you from the future

You are small still,
but the world is not as big as it used to be
and nothing ever comes easy
but your dreams are coming true,
you did not give up despite
believing so often that you would fail and
you are making a difference

I am afraid
because
everyone is afraid, but
I stand in front of the mirror
young and wide-eyed,
excited about the possibility of the world
and when I look at you now, I know
that we are learning to love each other
finally.

Elizabeth Lok

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn

Would scarcely know that we were gone.