Sharing student poems:
after you found out she lied
it’s the uncontrollable shaking
when your eyes lock with hers
it’s the way you and her communicate
without any words
it’s the way you admire
the little things about each other
it’s the give and take you both go through
so neither will suffer
it’s when she walks away
and leaves you inundated with pain
it’s when you let her go
because she doesn’t feel the same
by Jackie CummingsWhere the heck did all the coffee cups go?Enter the hectic disastera truck of my fatherin it you will discoverwhy I don’t drink tea every night.That vehicleis simply fullof all kinds of flipping junk.He use the thing as garageand an officeand a fridgeIt’s the bridge between his work and playit’s his man caveand it’s a mess.Every time I addressthis issue he simply waves“I’ll clean it some day.”In my 17 years of existence,“someday” has never came.But it’s okay, really.I justI want the coffee cups back.
By A Winters Warmthby Shelby FloanOne walks down a lonely path,While the white winter was wallowing,Each step getting harder; the snow swallowing the traveler,He was lost in the white god’s wrath.The traveler tried with all his might to see,The wind bit his face, his vision failing him,He fell down like a fallen warrior,The snow began to consume.His head slowly tilted up,His gaze meeting with a flickering orange,The travelers will lit up like a torch,His continued fiery will aimed at his last hope.By a fire lay a fellow traveler,Offering a warm brown ambrosia,The substance rekindled his will,Feeling suddenly warm and relaxed.The traveler laid down,The warmth slowly dying,Nothing left to feed it,Until its tragic end.
The reason whyI haven’t been locked up yetby Anthony TrudeauSitting with a guitarIn a circle with friendsMaking sweet music ourMinds know no endsNo trouble in sightNo sadness in the airWe’re up all nightAbout time we’re unawareMaking sweet musicIn a circle with friendsI hope I don’t lose thisThis music cannot end.
Amberby Cecilia RecchiMy childhood was wild spent in the nature,trees and butterflies were my toys.the jungle of my friend’s back yardwas our playground.Summer afternoons were infinitiveback in that yard; if you were looking for usthat’s where you would go,lifting your head up to the trees,where we would spend our time,climbing like monkeysto touch the sky with our hands.The peach tree was massive, entrenchedin the center of that jungle;on hot days, sticky resin floweddown the wrinkles of the tree,orange and gold like fresh honey.We collected it, sticking our fingers togetherall the time, put it in heart-shaped containers,waiting for it to dry, to become like amberand then give it to our moms.We waited all summer, but it still was fresh,eventually we threw it away.but we remember those days,cherish the memory of the dreamswe used to share up on the peach tree,old innocent dreams,none of them we still keep,maybe we should,just to look at the world with more naive eyes.
Never quitby KayLynne LyonsWhen things go wrong as they sometimes willLike the roads your trudging seem all uphillDays seem to go slower and slower byYou want to smile but all you can do is sighWhen life is pressing down on your a bitRest if you have to but never quitLife has strange twists and turnsIn our own way we all will learnYou might just win if you stick it outThe silver tint in the clouds of doubtDon’t give up cause the pace feels slowYou make it through another blowYou never can tell how close you areIt may be near when it seems farStay in the fight when you’re hardest hitIt’s when things seems worst that you cannot quit