WHO AM I? (4/30)
By: Gage Heeszel
The clock’s hands spun.
I stared at the clock, pacing from one side of the hallway to the other.
We ordered the clown
for this party at 12:30.
And it’s half past one.
How can I show my face to the guests without the promised entertainment?
The clock’s hands continued to spin.
I finally gave up. I need to apologize to them, I thought.
I returned to the dining room.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone.”
Why did I say that?
They started clapping.
Apparently the clown was already here.
Oh right, it was me.
I stared at the clock, pacing from one side of the hallway to the other.
We ordered the clown
for this party at 12:30.
And it’s half past one.
How can I show my face to the guests without the promised entertainment?
The clock’s hands continued to spin.
I finally gave up. I need to apologize to them, I thought.
I returned to the dining room.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone.”
Why did I say that?
They started clapping.
Apparently the clown was already here.
Oh right, it was me.
Empty field (3/31)
By: Gage Heeszel
One day I planted flowers
into an empty field.
I waited days and
days and days,
anticipating what would come out.
It was only when I returned
to a field of dead flowers that
I couldn't remember why
I planted them in the first place.
into an empty field.
I waited days and
days and days,
anticipating what would come out.
It was only when I returned
to a field of dead flowers that
I couldn't remember why
I planted them in the first place.
THe Future is an AByss
By: Gage Heeszel
The future is an abyss
that we must one day scale down by ourselves.
Some of us go in with a map
that gives directions to the bottom.
Others have every tool necessary to make it all the way.
An unlucky few fall to the bottom with nothing.
However you approach it, there is no guarantee of a safe descent.
This abyss is a beast on its own, the epitome of unpredictability.
It’s impossible to know what dangers lie inside.
I know you’re scared.
But you must go.
You cannot turn back.
This is your fate.
Safe travels.
May you find your worth in the waking world.
that we must one day scale down by ourselves.
Some of us go in with a map
that gives directions to the bottom.
Others have every tool necessary to make it all the way.
An unlucky few fall to the bottom with nothing.
However you approach it, there is no guarantee of a safe descent.
This abyss is a beast on its own, the epitome of unpredictability.
It’s impossible to know what dangers lie inside.
I know you’re scared.
But you must go.
You cannot turn back.
This is your fate.
Safe travels.
May you find your worth in the waking world.
Invisible
By Julia Owen
I count to three
1, 2, 3…
And now I’m invisible
The ghost that roams the halls
I count again
1, 2, 3…
I’m visible for all to see
But not for long, I count again
1, 2, 3…
I spend too much time being invisible
And when I count
I can no longer go back
I spend my days
Roaming the earth
Where no eyes ever meet mine
No longer do I wish to be invisible
1, 2, 3…
1, 2, 3…
1, 2, 3…
Someone please see me
1, 2, 3…
And now I’m invisible
The ghost that roams the halls
I count again
1, 2, 3…
I’m visible for all to see
But not for long, I count again
1, 2, 3…
I spend too much time being invisible
And when I count
I can no longer go back
I spend my days
Roaming the earth
Where no eyes ever meet mine
No longer do I wish to be invisible
1, 2, 3…
1, 2, 3…
1, 2, 3…
Someone please see me
it's not easy being green
By: Megan Lacy
His hold is gentle, his hands soft
Eyes that hold a mystery
Eyes that hold a story, sad, yet sweet
Eyes, holding a newfound sparkle
His voice lights up the room
His smile, beautiful and kind
His skin, soft, velvety, and green
We have found it
The Rainbow Connection
Eyes that hold a mystery
Eyes that hold a story, sad, yet sweet
Eyes, holding a newfound sparkle
His voice lights up the room
His smile, beautiful and kind
His skin, soft, velvety, and green
We have found it
The Rainbow Connection
Pinocchio
By Juan Rivera
There was a crusty old man named Geppetto who
Was all alone, lived alone, never had relationships
and did not have any social skills; he wondered
what it was like to have a companion.
He decided to create someone,
and since he was a carpenter, he decided
to build a friend out of wood.
He had read Genesis 2 the night before,
so he blew the “breath of life” into
this statue and the statue said, “Hello.”
This excited Geppetto.
Geppetto told him that he was his little boy;
they would do many things together, but that
Pinocchio (what he named him) could
never lie to him. If he did, his nose would grow
and continue to do so until he stopped lying.
One day, he sent Pinocchio to the store to
buy groceries for a special dinner. He
gave him ten dollars and told him to buy
bread, pasta, and wine.
At the store, Pinocchio saw some cannolis,
but knew buying a cannolis meant not having enough
for the bread. He bought them anyway and was
happy that he had something sweet to eat. The other two items
were purchased; he thought of a plan: He would rush home,
arrive screaming and tell Geppetto
that birds had taken the bread. He
wasn’t concerned about his nose and
didn’t believe it would grow.
He got home huffing, puffing, and screaming.
Geppetto asked what happened and Pinocchio
told his lie, as planned. His nose began to grow.
Geppetto told him, “You are lying Pinocchio; your
Nose is growing.” Pinocchio said he was not
fibbing and his nose kept growing.
Since Geppetto realized Pinocchio
was not going to confess or tell the truth,
he let him talk and talk and talk. He went to the kitchen
and returned
to Pinocchio still talking and a nose
that wouldn’t stop growing.
Pinocchio never knew what hit him.
The ax in Geppetto’s hand compared to
Michael Angelo using a painter’s brush.
Splinters and fragments filled the living room
Like blood splattered all over the walls.
Geppetto thought to himself: I knew
this companionship thing was overrated.
The end.
Was all alone, lived alone, never had relationships
and did not have any social skills; he wondered
what it was like to have a companion.
He decided to create someone,
and since he was a carpenter, he decided
to build a friend out of wood.
He had read Genesis 2 the night before,
so he blew the “breath of life” into
this statue and the statue said, “Hello.”
This excited Geppetto.
Geppetto told him that he was his little boy;
they would do many things together, but that
Pinocchio (what he named him) could
never lie to him. If he did, his nose would grow
and continue to do so until he stopped lying.
One day, he sent Pinocchio to the store to
buy groceries for a special dinner. He
gave him ten dollars and told him to buy
bread, pasta, and wine.
At the store, Pinocchio saw some cannolis,
but knew buying a cannolis meant not having enough
for the bread. He bought them anyway and was
happy that he had something sweet to eat. The other two items
were purchased; he thought of a plan: He would rush home,
arrive screaming and tell Geppetto
that birds had taken the bread. He
wasn’t concerned about his nose and
didn’t believe it would grow.
He got home huffing, puffing, and screaming.
Geppetto asked what happened and Pinocchio
told his lie, as planned. His nose began to grow.
Geppetto told him, “You are lying Pinocchio; your
Nose is growing.” Pinocchio said he was not
fibbing and his nose kept growing.
Since Geppetto realized Pinocchio
was not going to confess or tell the truth,
he let him talk and talk and talk. He went to the kitchen
and returned
to Pinocchio still talking and a nose
that wouldn’t stop growing.
Pinocchio never knew what hit him.
The ax in Geppetto’s hand compared to
Michael Angelo using a painter’s brush.
Splinters and fragments filled the living room
Like blood splattered all over the walls.
Geppetto thought to himself: I knew
this companionship thing was overrated.
The end.
A Poem about Flatworms
By: Eileen Xue
Once there was a flatworm named Larry
They took him away from his family
Inside a tube and into the lab
With others that never would go back
Those two eyes now knew fear
Before he saw nothing as near
As the scalpel that would cleave him in half
Never was Larry ever this sad
He squirmed in horror at his body
He saw himself so disembodied
Yet Larry saw not death despite his pain
But new faces staring back without brains
Then the scientist spoke words he couldn’t forget
Looking around with Larry within steel forceps
“Observe, this is flatworm regeneration.”
They took him away from his family
Inside a tube and into the lab
With others that never would go back
Those two eyes now knew fear
Before he saw nothing as near
As the scalpel that would cleave him in half
Never was Larry ever this sad
He squirmed in horror at his body
He saw himself so disembodied
Yet Larry saw not death despite his pain
But new faces staring back without brains
Then the scientist spoke words he couldn’t forget
Looking around with Larry within steel forceps
“Observe, this is flatworm regeneration.”
A TASTE OF MY CULTURE
By: Eileen Xue
I know that in my culture
We love our food
Some days we make cakes
The inside, a yellow moon
Other times the taste is savory
Baozi, Jiaozi, Zhonzi, and more
Or extremely salty
Eggs soaked in salt to their core
But my favorite is hot pot
An always boiling pot of water
Inside we cook vegetables,
Fish cakes, meat, until they’re hotter
With all this said
Sweet, savory, sour, and spicy flavors
The best thing about my culture
Is the food we eat together
We love our food
Some days we make cakes
The inside, a yellow moon
Other times the taste is savory
Baozi, Jiaozi, Zhonzi, and more
Or extremely salty
Eggs soaked in salt to their core
But my favorite is hot pot
An always boiling pot of water
Inside we cook vegetables,
Fish cakes, meat, until they’re hotter
With all this said
Sweet, savory, sour, and spicy flavors
The best thing about my culture
Is the food we eat together
THe YEARS THAT PASS
By: Eileen Xue
On the edge of next year
On the brink of times past
After Christmas has ended
Is Spring coming fast
Next year we will change
Bring to life a new face
We will leave back our mistakes
And close the year with a bang
On the brink of times past
After Christmas has ended
Is Spring coming fast
Next year we will change
Bring to life a new face
We will leave back our mistakes
And close the year with a bang
Frog Song
By: Eileen Xue
He started out in a bog
With no legs on his bod
He had hope that this pond
Would make him a frog
When the rain would come
He emerged from the mud
He shied from the sun
And gazed at the bugs
The frogs were so free
They could leap several feet
He held his belief
That he would soon be
A frog just as great
Who could catch all he ate
His mind clouded by fog
He forgot he was no real frog
He was just a worm
Dreaming dreams in a log.
With no legs on his bod
He had hope that this pond
Would make him a frog
When the rain would come
He emerged from the mud
He shied from the sun
And gazed at the bugs
The frogs were so free
They could leap several feet
He held his belief
That he would soon be
A frog just as great
Who could catch all he ate
His mind clouded by fog
He forgot he was no real frog
He was just a worm
Dreaming dreams in a log.
one inch
By Anonymous
One inch determines if I fit the standards of beauty
One inch determines if I am too fat or skinny
One inch more of makeup and I am caked
I will never be perfect no matter how hard I try. There will always be flaws yet I still try to achieve perfection. I know it does not exist yet I expect the best from myself.
I see all these people and in my mind they are perfect but really it is all a lie.
Everyone is beautiful, the problem is our world has ridiculous standards that no one can meet in reality. We want to be a walking photoshopped model.
I will never look like them. They don't even look like themselves.
I will not apologize for who I am or what I look like. Why can the world not just accept me. I constantly feel like I am not good enough. Maybe it is all true.
I will never be accepted
I will never reach my goal
I am stuck in a mirage, I simply am too weak
I think I am getting closer but in reality I am still nowhere near it
Being an acceptable human being keeps getting farther away
One inch more and I will fall apart
One inch away from the end
I’ll never make it
I'm emotionally strained, I can’t take it
I’ve reached the end of my ladder, one more inch and I will be falling
I keep trying to please everyone around me but never take the time to breathe
I do not have to change myself, I have to change the world
One inch is all it takes
One person, one inch, one heart
One inch changes it all
Life or death
One inch matters.
One inch determines if I am too fat or skinny
One inch more of makeup and I am caked
I will never be perfect no matter how hard I try. There will always be flaws yet I still try to achieve perfection. I know it does not exist yet I expect the best from myself.
I see all these people and in my mind they are perfect but really it is all a lie.
Everyone is beautiful, the problem is our world has ridiculous standards that no one can meet in reality. We want to be a walking photoshopped model.
I will never look like them. They don't even look like themselves.
I will not apologize for who I am or what I look like. Why can the world not just accept me. I constantly feel like I am not good enough. Maybe it is all true.
I will never be accepted
I will never reach my goal
I am stuck in a mirage, I simply am too weak
I think I am getting closer but in reality I am still nowhere near it
Being an acceptable human being keeps getting farther away
One inch more and I will fall apart
One inch away from the end
I’ll never make it
I'm emotionally strained, I can’t take it
I’ve reached the end of my ladder, one more inch and I will be falling
I keep trying to please everyone around me but never take the time to breathe
I do not have to change myself, I have to change the world
One inch is all it takes
One person, one inch, one heart
One inch changes it all
Life or death
One inch matters.
Winter Haiku
By: Mikko Romero
December brings Holiday Joy
Decorations line streets
Seasons greetings
Are upon all who hear the call
Decorations line streets
Seasons greetings
Are upon all who hear the call
My Desert Home
By: Emily Dodge
Isn’t it funny how the weather resembles a mood?
When the sun doesn’t want to shine, all we can do is sleep.
Sip on wine until our world seems sweet.
I don’t want my life to be like that.
Everything was fine and at the drop of a hat, it’s gone.
In an instant reality has dawned and your not sure how to continue.
Maybe a change in venue?
People say maybe a change in scenery will help,
But we’re all stuck in our minds,
The endless thoughts that go on forever.
We’re swamped until the world seems to stop,
And in that moment we realize:
Life isn’t about my pride, or what side we chose.
Does my life even matter compared the dozens I influence?
I’ll leave that up to you.
I need to depend on something other than my hopeless thoughts,
This endless desert that I call my own.
Let me be alone, with my silent voice.
Reveal the emotions that I’ve been drowning inside.
I would kill to live like I once did,
But now that chance is dead.
Gone forever and the hope was only in my head.
You light up a candle, something familiar.
You are my kind, so stay with me till the sun rises again,
‘Cause if I cease to stay another day,
I want you to be my witness, to break the pain.
So maybe, I didn’t need a change in venue.
Maybe all I needed is you.
And when the time comes to wake up from this dream,
I will go on, living the same.
Possibly drowning in sorrow,
Possibly yearning for tomorrow.
Let me find these moments,
These distractions,
To keep me tied here,
to home.
When the sun doesn’t want to shine, all we can do is sleep.
Sip on wine until our world seems sweet.
I don’t want my life to be like that.
Everything was fine and at the drop of a hat, it’s gone.
In an instant reality has dawned and your not sure how to continue.
Maybe a change in venue?
People say maybe a change in scenery will help,
But we’re all stuck in our minds,
The endless thoughts that go on forever.
We’re swamped until the world seems to stop,
And in that moment we realize:
Life isn’t about my pride, or what side we chose.
Does my life even matter compared the dozens I influence?
I’ll leave that up to you.
I need to depend on something other than my hopeless thoughts,
This endless desert that I call my own.
Let me be alone, with my silent voice.
Reveal the emotions that I’ve been drowning inside.
I would kill to live like I once did,
But now that chance is dead.
Gone forever and the hope was only in my head.
You light up a candle, something familiar.
You are my kind, so stay with me till the sun rises again,
‘Cause if I cease to stay another day,
I want you to be my witness, to break the pain.
So maybe, I didn’t need a change in venue.
Maybe all I needed is you.
And when the time comes to wake up from this dream,
I will go on, living the same.
Possibly drowning in sorrow,
Possibly yearning for tomorrow.
Let me find these moments,
These distractions,
To keep me tied here,
to home.
First Rain
By: Anonymous
First rain.
The small drops gently kiss the leaves and roll down.
Those that miss crash onto the ground
and add with it’s kith creating the sound of a low rumble.
The earth seems to be spinning a little slower than it used to,
yet my heart rate picks up.
The smell of asphalt mixes with dirt and water to make an aroma that I am not unfamiliar to.
One which welcomes my nose like an old friend,
reminding me of the last cold season:
a period in my life where I, myself, was cold,
physically and emotionally.
Pulling my sweater sleeves over my hands
not only because I was chilly,
but I also had to hide the insecurities.
I can't see the sun,
when will this end?
How much longer would I have to pretend
that I was okay?
Birdsong recalls me to my loathsome self
desiring simplicity and the absence of stress.
As I walk around a puddle,
I recollect my childhood where jumping in one gave me the greatest joy
and my only worry was to receive the gift of soggy socks from it.
Now, things are different.
A raindrop falls on my face and rolls down my cheek and brings me back to the tears.
I inhale deeply and can almost taste the thickness of vapor in the air.
Once again, I am brought back to the time when
I could not breathe from the weeping,
I was never sleeping...
staying up late - not filled with hate, but morosity
and it occurred to me that I was able to reach a state where many can relate,
yet it seems that no one can save one from.
I would cry out and scream, “WHY ME?!”
and I’d swear I could hear, “Why not?”
So I stopped.
Stopped screaming, stopped crying, stopped trying.
I shut down,
my brain’s control center was on autopilot,
and I was numb.
The world's color was drained,
everything turned to grey,
even the rain stopped,
(although the weather was still chilling to the bone)
and it felt that I was incapable of feeling anything.
Suddenly, I realize that my vision had gone blurry,
and it felt like I couldn't stand straight.
A gust of wind hit me like a slap in the face and I return to now.
“You’re here now, you’re safe.”
The small drops gently kiss the leaves and roll down.
Those that miss crash onto the ground
and add with it’s kith creating the sound of a low rumble.
The earth seems to be spinning a little slower than it used to,
yet my heart rate picks up.
The smell of asphalt mixes with dirt and water to make an aroma that I am not unfamiliar to.
One which welcomes my nose like an old friend,
reminding me of the last cold season:
a period in my life where I, myself, was cold,
physically and emotionally.
Pulling my sweater sleeves over my hands
not only because I was chilly,
but I also had to hide the insecurities.
I can't see the sun,
when will this end?
How much longer would I have to pretend
that I was okay?
Birdsong recalls me to my loathsome self
desiring simplicity and the absence of stress.
As I walk around a puddle,
I recollect my childhood where jumping in one gave me the greatest joy
and my only worry was to receive the gift of soggy socks from it.
Now, things are different.
A raindrop falls on my face and rolls down my cheek and brings me back to the tears.
I inhale deeply and can almost taste the thickness of vapor in the air.
Once again, I am brought back to the time when
I could not breathe from the weeping,
I was never sleeping...
staying up late - not filled with hate, but morosity
and it occurred to me that I was able to reach a state where many can relate,
yet it seems that no one can save one from.
I would cry out and scream, “WHY ME?!”
and I’d swear I could hear, “Why not?”
So I stopped.
Stopped screaming, stopped crying, stopped trying.
I shut down,
my brain’s control center was on autopilot,
and I was numb.
The world's color was drained,
everything turned to grey,
even the rain stopped,
(although the weather was still chilling to the bone)
and it felt that I was incapable of feeling anything.
Suddenly, I realize that my vision had gone blurry,
and it felt like I couldn't stand straight.
A gust of wind hit me like a slap in the face and I return to now.
“You’re here now, you’re safe.”
Spaghetti
By: Brian Fernandez, Gage Heeszel, & Preston Mattos
Spaghetti noodles,
unprepared and bamboo-esque,
soon on open flames.
The long sticks will slowly heat,
becoming soft and toothsome.
Meanwhile, the sauce boils,
The surface simmering on,
bubbles popping up.
Finally, the time arrived
to fuse the two holy signs.
Pasta on the plate,
sauce and cheese coating the top.
It is truly blessed.
As I reached to grab the plate,
my hand slipped, and the dish fell.
Noodles on the floor,
I fell to my knees, crying
as I slurped them up.
unprepared and bamboo-esque,
soon on open flames.
The long sticks will slowly heat,
becoming soft and toothsome.
Meanwhile, the sauce boils,
The surface simmering on,
bubbles popping up.
Finally, the time arrived
to fuse the two holy signs.
Pasta on the plate,
sauce and cheese coating the top.
It is truly blessed.
As I reached to grab the plate,
my hand slipped, and the dish fell.
Noodles on the floor,
I fell to my knees, crying
as I slurped them up.
Bus ride
By: Anonymous
I’m at the central, waiting for the bus. A family next to me waits for the bus as well.
A large man.
A tattooed woman.
A small child.
I judge them, not knowing who they are, or what they do.
A white haired lady approaches the family, looking for some charity.
Her stomach goes over her shorts.
Her shoes don’t match.
And back slumped.
I judge her, not knowing how she became like that, or who made her like this.
She asks if the family has any food for her, she has not eaten in two days she says.
I do not understand.
Why not ask for money?
Everyone needs money.
I judged her, I made an assumption, a stereotype. This woman did not deserve that.
The man and the woman looked at each other, they asked the child if they would like to donate.
A water bottle.
Granola bar.
And an apple.
They gave her these items, without question, without judgement.
The bus arrives, the family and the woman go their separate ways, on the bus…
The woman compliments the child.
The man says I love you to his wife
The child hugs his father.
I am a terrible person. I am no better than these people. I am no better than the old woman.
But…
I can learn.
I can change.
I will be better than the person at the stop, and come out different at the destination.
A large man.
A tattooed woman.
A small child.
I judge them, not knowing who they are, or what they do.
A white haired lady approaches the family, looking for some charity.
Her stomach goes over her shorts.
Her shoes don’t match.
And back slumped.
I judge her, not knowing how she became like that, or who made her like this.
She asks if the family has any food for her, she has not eaten in two days she says.
I do not understand.
Why not ask for money?
Everyone needs money.
I judged her, I made an assumption, a stereotype. This woman did not deserve that.
The man and the woman looked at each other, they asked the child if they would like to donate.
A water bottle.
Granola bar.
And an apple.
They gave her these items, without question, without judgement.
The bus arrives, the family and the woman go their separate ways, on the bus…
The woman compliments the child.
The man says I love you to his wife
The child hugs his father.
I am a terrible person. I am no better than these people. I am no better than the old woman.
But…
I can learn.
I can change.
I will be better than the person at the stop, and come out different at the destination.
November POem
By: Eileen Xue
The days grow chilly
Nights are extending
Anticipating pumpkin filling
And Cinnamon scented pudding
The month is November
A season we remember
Fall’s gathering before winter
With friends and family members
Until we tire of this month
One that only happens once
After turkey we’ve had our fun
Only then would we say
That November is done
Nights are extending
Anticipating pumpkin filling
And Cinnamon scented pudding
The month is November
A season we remember
Fall’s gathering before winter
With friends and family members
Until we tire of this month
One that only happens once
After turkey we’ve had our fun
Only then would we say
That November is done
SkeletonsBy: Alan Olea
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HalloweenBy: Alan Olea
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Skeletons
Puns Ornery Oof Kek Yeet Boo Original Ingenuous |
Horror filled night
Arachnophobia Lifeless props Lycanthrope October Weary people Eerie encounters Enchantments Napoo |