Poems
Iliana Beltzer when I die I would like to be a hummingbird because they are rare to see and they die in their sleep at least this death will be a peaceful one -death When people ask me where I'm from I answer honestly Everywhere and nowhere -growing up everywhere I looked for you in the nighttime I crawled into your dreams Made them nightmares Even in sleep you can't escape me -depression He took control Decided you were his But what about what you wanted -control ______________________________________________ I Cannot Fathom the Strips of Memory Within Those Eyes
Robert Cahill He does not mind the smattering of footprints upon his brow. A man fashioned from an antique, his musty old Flesh beckons within an abandoned aviary. His dusty brown tweed jacket Hangs upon sloping, thin shoulders he waits. Like the needle of a seamstress, the gramophone begins. Scoliosis grins in his spine as he rises, arms outstretched he begins his waltz. Veiny hands upon her gossamer bodice, their dance is a song of ages. The record plays, cracking and skipping to play over and over again. He dances still. His arms embrace and dance upon these dusty floors with a woman who is no longer there. __________________________________________________ To Parents With Twins
Anonymous Remake of Rupi Kaur’s poem To Fathers With Daughters Everytime you push your daughter aside you tell her there are more important things that come before her own accomplishments you teach her to confuse success with failure which seems like a good idea until she grows up believing that there is not an ounce of success in her bones because they look nothing like his _______________________________________________ Home Is Where The Heart Is
Callie Vuona You’ll find me where the shore meets the water’s edge, Basking in the glory of the sun’s warm rays, With my feet submerged beneath the grainy sand. Don’t bother convincing me to go back home, I’m already there. I can feel the sea within me, calling my name, Drawing me in closer and closer, Until the rippled water is no longer a daydream, but instead a reality. And the seagulls are flying overhead, taking in the fresh salty air. One breath is all it takes and all my worries are gone, All of my stress and troubles detach from my overcrowded mind. All that’s left is me and the sea, Who is the constant reminder that my troubles can’t reach me here, In my happy place. The one true destination that can set my mind and soul free. And as the sun slowly sets over the horizon, I remind myself that my heart is finally home. And for the time that I stay, the clock stops and time freezes, Until the unpleasant reality settles back in. But until then, You’ll find me where the shore meets the water’s edge. __________________________________________________ whilom
Allie Bovat whi·lom ˈ(h)wīləm/ adverb
trying to reach the horizon, trying to escape. Windows down, hands up, wisps of hair flying free. Rosy cheeks, speckled with freckles, man, look at her. Walking this path once again, last time she was here with me. And she spun ‘round and ‘round, surrounded by falling foliage. Her lively laugh still echoes through my ears, her touch still lingers. I can still feel our hands intertwined. Gloomy world. Backwards laughs. Everything is grey. She was the artist, painted me bright, and gave me light. The things that once were, feelings that used to be, but memories that will last forever. _____________________________________________ Cloud 9
Sarah Ferguson i’m sorry if you woke up this morning floating on cloud nine but went to bed bruised and broken after falling from it gravity must have gotten tired and let you down please remember scars are just proof that you are capable of healing and gravity will pull you up again someday soon. __________________________________________________ Program
Jamie Goodall Program (verb) A planned series of future events, items, or performances How dreadful is must be To ask permission to think. To think is to create, to destroy, to be one’s self. Yet you sit, your mind silent Thinking what those have programed: What those have planned. So who are you? How can you be you If your thoughts Are instructions Written by those before you? There is no you If you do not think. For you have never created For yourself. ______________________________________________ dead trees
october 4, 2018 Angelina Luo she said love the earth as she opened an atlas, running nimble fingers across parched paper dead nature how ironic i thought. the atlas said but one sentence i was once earth __________________________________________________ Thawing
Joel Field Celebrating Robert Frost's poem A Late Walk On an early year walk The last snowflake has fallen A single flower peaks its head out Longing of the day it can start making pollen Garden beds thawing out The first cutting of the year The little boy wondering When the birds will start singing for him to hear Beach, Oak and Red maple all are budding The splashes of color showing life is not lost The bear coming out of hiding Time to wave goodbye to our old friend Jack Frost The boy saying so long Putting his winter clothes away An urge to go out and play The last signs of brumal decay __________________________________________________ Celebrating Maya Angelou
Grace Louder The Journey Through Success Rise Above the setbacks Around the failures Be the change Be a single star in the night sky Be the yellow rose, in a bouquet of red Walk with pride and fearlessness Over the devil’s den Into your own garden, of daisies, and hummingbirds Know your strength Can move mountains With the willingness of your golden soul and hungry eyes Be unstoppable Like a lonely tourist, with hope of endless destinations Driven by a dream Fear overcomes the mind Listen to the passion of fire, that aches in your heart And maybe, just then, you will succeed. __________________________________________________ Soulless Skeleton
Eleanor Bushway I am a soulless skeleton who feeds off of the feeling of death never quite reaching out of her head it's all fuzzy in here things look too real then suddenly they aren't a numbing shower washes over my brain it cleans me of emotion all the colors swirl down the drain until my brain is bleached clean and empty so very, very empty I am a soulless skeleton who meets every gaze with a dead stare always ruining the banquet of the inspired with boring lines of poetry song never lively enough my thoughts are a melancholy piano in minor never thinking straight the sea of the dead might as well sweep me away now because there isn't any of me left living ever since I got tired of running no one was there to take my hand I am a soulless skeleton because no one bothered to try and pick up my pieces leaving me alone with everything bottled inside until it all disappears. ______________________________________________ Poems
Emily Taylor bleeding heart dying slowly bleeding heart they act as if my pain is art broken dreams internal screams living my time falling apart sin you told me not to sin you told me not to lie yet you go behind my back and do it all the time axe they say when dreaming you tend to relax block out the lies, drop the axe unsafe Started as a nobody and grew up as a freak all of the pain had gone but it never really left me so as I look and walk around I don't feel safe or sound and all that I shall ever do is look upon the ground. __________________________________________________ |
Perfectionism
Talia Smith I know That humans are not perfect, That we learn from our mistakes. But sometimes It is so hard for me not to feel Like I have to make everything perfect. Perfectionism The overly-thorough editing process Of a paper l o n g e r than it should be, Pulling a fine-toothed comb through orderly rows of words Weeding out the flaws. Or the s l o w , exact calculations I press neatly onto the paper. My hand hurts, my muscles exhausted My brain weary There are still SO MANY problems left. All of this means nights close to midnight, Days without sunshine, Life missing creativity. All the time, every time A monotonous cycle Again and again and again Repeated stress Not even enough to catch my ----------------------------------------- breath A weight pushing down on my shoulders Encasing my heart in gray. I have to get it done just right or I won’t feel satisfied I will feel ashamed of my work like it was not enough. Feeling as if I have ruined my life with one mistake, one wrong move Perfectionism A Dragon that tells me that I must always work until I am so Overworked that I am an elastic band poised to s n ap. Or maybe one that is f l o p ping to the ground. But Today is a new day, Yesterday was a milestone. I can shake off the feelings of always having to be perfect I can do my best without the stress Of always trying to be perfect. __________________________________________________ my heart lies here, but does not deceive
Ireland Weber my skin set fire with desire until it was kissed by the mist of the sunless day on the tundra's plain of the hundreds of rain drops pouring over my poor, brittle body littered with cuts and oddities, honestly, the honor was all mine to be dressed up in dew drop clothes and robes made of fallen clouds i wore a wobbly crown made of crowded flowers and i kissed the fragile top before placing it upon my head i stumbled into a lake and laid flat on my back to glance at the now parting clouds that revealed shapes and landscapes and i had sworn i saw a lock being foiled by a key, as though the sky had been set free and my sore heart soared and swelled and reveled in the realization that i too was liberated, i too was reinstated into this world that's metronome was my own heartbeat i wore grass blades as shoes as i walked along the meadow, the meadow's petals swaying to the rhythm of my breaths, and it felt as though the sun had whispered 'hello' as a warm breeze drifted across my back this world's favorite songs were my words and it's favorite sounds were my footsteps it's favorite sight was my smile it was a while before i melted into the routine that was the embrace of the non-abrasive before i faced the facts and realized i was loved regardless of my mistakes, and the steps i leave in the glowing, fallen snow which quakes beneath my careful feet will be fairly faded when they're retraced but i will forever remember the cool, blank slate, unerased. the paths i had created through the sleets of almost-ice are not eternal but in turn, i learned, neither is my pain ___________________________________________________________ Three Things to Remember
Vy Nguyen Inspired by Mary Oliver #1 Your parents are your rocks, or just your mother. #2 They love you more than you know it, even if they don’t show it. #3 Don’t leave them because they probably left their lives for yours, their life< your life. #4 They will push you to your limits in order to be successful, something they weren’t. ___________________________________________________________ Protect Her Perfectly Imperfect
Anna Laprade She caught his eye in a small crowd, The contact quick and fleeting. From that moment on, she was infatuated. As the leaves turned from green, To yellow, to red, She slowly fell more and more Into the desires of her heart. She smiled around him, always, And he always seemed to smile around her. One day, when the clouds were grey, And the world was damp, She discovered he was not so perfect after all. But what she found is she loved him more Because of his flaws, As much as a girl of her kindness could. His heart was hurt, in so many places, But because she was scared of her opinion, He wouldn't let her see. The stone-cold walls around him Made her slowly break her own down, The walls that took years to build by hand. She'll do anything to help him, To save him from the plagues That destroy her daily. She'll break her heart everyday, Just so she can put his back together. For her, this is what love is, and always was. She'll protect her perfectly imperfect. ___________________________________________________________ Because (inspired by Crossover by Kwame Alexander)
Anonymous I'll tell you why I'm such awful person, Dad. Because I don't like sports. Because maybe if I did it would be easier to get a scholarship. Because maybe then you'd stop nagging me about getting one. Because then I wouldn't be so stressed all the time. Because now I can't seem to find something to help me get into college. Because I feel inferior to all the girls that are strong and can run fast. Because I have to hide behind my books to feel sane. Because my friends think I hate them now. Because fixing relationships with people is frustrating. Because all I feel is alone. Because no one can understand me. Because I'm left to face the world by myself. Because I'm vulnerable and frustrated. Because you ask too much of me. Because I'm trapped in a dark corridor with spears at my back. Because I can't bring myself to change. Because I know we'll never get along. Because now I don't want to speak at all around you or other people. Because I know I'll just mess up. Because a novel is better than acknowledging my spiral of self-doubt. Because now my eyes sting from unshed tears. Because my throat smarts from held back screams. Because my fingers ache from so many becauses. Because (version two) I'll tell you why I'm this way, Mom. Because I can’t seem to change. Because I feel like I’d turn out worse. Because people never seem to like me. Because I can’t believe the words that slip out my mouth. Because I’d be even worse if I never opened my lips again. Because then I’d be invisible. Because even if I was it would still hurt to know I’m just that horrible. Because every failure is worse than the last. Because I know I’ll never stop losing this war against myself. Because when people look at me I feel naked, weak, and vulnerable. Because crying makes me feel alive. Because tears make my eyes sting for days. Because the self-deprecating jokes I make are true. Because nothing but a book in my hand makes me feel strong. Because in the pages I know I’m safe. Because I know my pain is nothing compared to others. Because that makes me feel pathetic and a waste of matter. Because I dream of not being able to hurt people around me. Because I know that dreams don’t come true. Because in my world Pinocchio stays a wooden puppet. ___________________________________________________________ In the Eyes of a Nighthawk
Liam Laughlin All we are lies in the eyes of a Nighthawk, The one at the counter, Harassing the waitress And putting three too many packets of sugar into a coffee; Gone cold over his grabs at attention. You see him now, the one waiting to head to his night shift, 2.5 kids at home and resentments piling up under the skin, Collecting in the wrinkles brought forth By having to see someone so small in the reflection of an empty plate. He didn't know the power he had over us. It’s strange that a man so comprehensible Could be the final arbiter of us. ed. note: please follow the link below for the entirety of the poem "In the Eyes of a Nighthawk" ___________________________________________________________ Trapped
Anna Laprade I'm trapped. Within my own mind, Within my own body, Within my own home. In my mind, I'm screaming and banging At the bars that keep me Trapped inside. I want to tell someone, Anyone, But the words just won't come out. They're Trapped inside my mouth. In my body, I'm horrified. Horrified by what I see Trapped inside the mirror's refection. I wish I could look different, But nothing I try works. I can't change. Who I am is Trapped inside of me. In my home, I can not see what makes me happy. It's all so far away. Am I Trapped inside, or is it Trapped outside? I want to get out, I'll do anything to get out, But I'm too weak. I'm Trapped. ___________________________________________________________ A New Perspective
Meghan Kenney An eagle's eye view Surveying the tree tops below Seeing everything, though still blind To the beauty that lies below Beneath the trees Complex paths lay Weaving a story Only the forest can say The leaves whisper in the wind Telling secrets to let you in Below the surface so much lay You don’t know as much as you think you may __________________________________________________ The Dark
Eric Murdza I lay down on the slow, steady incline of the hill My head resting upon the fluffy, warm grass Insects crawled over my body without fear As my eyes continued to gaze at a horizon A horizon that seemed so close, yet so far. I reached my arm out to the sun Watching the light dim as the Earth turned away from its beauty Why is the sunset so beautiful? Creatures of the night began to stir A new surge of life rippling upon the reflection As the ocean animated under our unsettling dreams. There was a disturbing feeling of comfort as the light left And a blanket of darkness fell over me An unmistakable serenity in the solitude As I could no longer see the world around me. I shivered a bit in the growing breeze The pressure of an insidious gaze still trapping me One that felt entirely too familiar to shake, And so I lingered on the sleeping giant My eyes still fixed upon the sky The fabric of reality melting away to the machinations of my mind Feeling myself finally drift off into an unexpected rest My mind seeming to finally give up on my weary heart. “I promise you are beautiful” A soothing voice whispered strongly I frantically looked around my surroundings An overpowering feeling of despair choking me As everything seemed so dark So cold. I felt myself falling through the ground As if I was slowly drowning in the ethereal plane. A beauty I once saw tainted by an unmistakable sorrow I couldn’t breathe as the nothingness consumed me Water without any life filling my lungs, But I could see a small light growing above the surface A face that I didn’t quite recognize, But one that I knew had always watched over me. It was distorted by incessant ripples, Yet it provided a powerful sense of comfort I felt a warmth burgeon inside of me Like a flower blossoming after a storm And I took off to the sky Reaching out to the outstretched arm Gliding along a new trajectory As the sun seemed to rise again. ed. note: This is an excerpt from the poem ___________________________________________________________ |
Silent Communication
Anonymous
Modeled after A Silent Love by Sir Edward Dyer
The lowest feelings have the highest peaks,
the river its lake,
The bear her cubs,
my life- my Best Friend;
My cell phone rings, comes up unknown caller,
“hello?”
My heart warms instantly from the voice I’ve deeply missed.
Our true friendship has no distance, only uncontrollable passed time.
A friend is a friend, through calls or sent letters.
Friendship is the best medication.
The line for the phone that Lauren’s on grows and it’s time for her to go.
“Call when you can, I hope you are able to come home soon.”
The phone call ends and nine months go by, but I keep in contact with her mom for updates on how she’s doing.
The firmest faith is found in fewest words;
With one letter a month I send, to avoid being overwhelming.
There’s no response, but I hope for a smile on the other end or even just a reassurance that she has not been forgotten.
Times are still tough, some days are better than others, but they are better than before; the roller coaster progress.
Can’t wait for you to be better.
I miss you endlessly.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Anonymous
Modeled after A Silent Love by Sir Edward Dyer
The lowest feelings have the highest peaks,
the river its lake,
The bear her cubs,
my life- my Best Friend;
My cell phone rings, comes up unknown caller,
“hello?”
My heart warms instantly from the voice I’ve deeply missed.
Our true friendship has no distance, only uncontrollable passed time.
A friend is a friend, through calls or sent letters.
Friendship is the best medication.
The line for the phone that Lauren’s on grows and it’s time for her to go.
“Call when you can, I hope you are able to come home soon.”
The phone call ends and nine months go by, but I keep in contact with her mom for updates on how she’s doing.
The firmest faith is found in fewest words;
With one letter a month I send, to avoid being overwhelming.
There’s no response, but I hope for a smile on the other end or even just a reassurance that she has not been forgotten.
Times are still tough, some days are better than others, but they are better than before; the roller coaster progress.
Can’t wait for you to be better.
I miss you endlessly.
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________