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Sharing student poems:

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entertainment Bemidji,Minnesota 56619
Sharing student poems:
Bemidji Minnesota P.O. Box 455 56619


by Tristan Barstad

What is love?

Love is the empty feeling in your chest

when she isn’t by your side

it’s the self-loathing and regret

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

Poem #13

by Jackie Cummings

Where the heck did all the coffee cups go?

Enter the hectic disaster

a truck of my father

in it you will discover

why I don’t drink tea every night.

That vehicle

is simply full

of all kinds of flipping junk.

He use the thing as  garage

and an office

and a fridge

It’s the bridge between his work and play

it’s his man cave

and it’s a mess.

Every time I address

this 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 just

I want the coffee cups back.

By A Winters Warmth

by Shelby Floan

One 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 why

I haven’t been locked up yet

by Anthony Trudeau

Sitting with a guitar

In a circle with friends

Making sweet music our

Minds know no ends

No trouble in sight

No sadness in the air

We’re up all night

About time we’re unaware

Making sweet music

In a circle with friends

I hope I don’t lose this

This music cannot end.


by Cecilia Recchi

My childhood was wild spent in the nature,

trees and butterflies were my toys.

the jungle of my friend’s back yard

was our playground.

Summer afternoons were infinitive

back in that yard; if you were looking for us

that’s where you would go,

lifting your head up to the trees,

where we would spend our time,

climbing like monkeys

to touch the sky with our hands.

The peach tree was massive, entrenched

in the center of that jungle;

on hot days, sticky resin flowed

down the wrinkles of the tree,

orange and gold like fresh honey.

We collected it, sticking our fingers together

all the time, put it in heart-shaped containers,

waiting for it to dry, to become like amber

and 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 dreams

we 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 quit

by KayLynne Lyons

When things go wrong as they sometimes will

Like the roads your trudging seem all uphill

Days seem to go slower and slower by

You want to smile but all you can do is sigh

When life is pressing down on your a bit

Rest if you have to but never quit

Life has strange twists and turns

In our own way we all will learn

You might just win if you stick it out

The silver tint in the clouds of doubt

Don’t give up cause the pace feels slow

You make it through another blow

You never can tell how close you are

It may be near when it seems far

Stay in the fight when you’re hardest hit

It’s when things seems worst that you cannot quit