How will I know it’s you?
Just one statement that’s true -
If you’re the one?
Or to know we’re done?
You’re not consistent with your
Feelings, let’s get to the core;
I don’t know whether to sit and wait
But let’s get one thing straight:
Let’s get to the climax
And lay out the real facts.
You say you adore me
But it’s starting to bore me
You’re wasting my time with no action -
Just a stupid distraction.
So get it together, figure out
And stop this overdose of doubt.
Friday, June 6, 2008
"I Could Go for a Knock Out" by Alyssa Lawson
I could go for a knock out;
a little amnesia would do
me well. Baby, no doubt;
Kill me with your endless
blue eyes, Cause I forgot
him; he's simply trendless.
Take me through time-
where there's no fate:
you and timeless rhyme.
We could pretend like I
never met him, just you,
me… come on let's try.
a little amnesia would do
me well. Baby, no doubt;
Kill me with your endless
blue eyes, Cause I forgot
him; he's simply trendless.
Take me through time-
where there's no fate:
you and timeless rhyme.
We could pretend like I
never met him, just you,
me… come on let's try.
"The Things Important Yesterday" by Nick Delbuono
Some things I have loved, and this I will try
To tell you them all, starting with the sky;
I don’t like the sun; it causes my eyes pain,
I’d much rather sit in, and watch rain.
I love the snow, and I love the ice
I think it makes, the woods seem quiet nice.
I love the feeling that I get
When I lose myself in music, and forget
The troubles and sorrows of yesterday
As the day slowly slips away
And yes I do in fact love night
When mischievous boys seem to take flight,
Red rooms with black curtains, set as trim
And movies that turn out to end rather grim
I like these things I have to above
But I like none greater, than the touch of love.
To tell you them all, starting with the sky;
I don’t like the sun; it causes my eyes pain,
I’d much rather sit in, and watch rain.
I love the snow, and I love the ice
I think it makes, the woods seem quiet nice.
I love the feeling that I get
When I lose myself in music, and forget
The troubles and sorrows of yesterday
As the day slowly slips away
And yes I do in fact love night
When mischievous boys seem to take flight,
Red rooms with black curtains, set as trim
And movies that turn out to end rather grim
I like these things I have to above
But I like none greater, than the touch of love.
Haiku Sequence by Alyssa LAwson
The summer's my muse
The sun smiles as my pen plays
Inspiration: fun.
The trees hang luminous
Threatening oncoming winter
Their leaves briskly falling.
Simple yet so complex
Contradicting? Yes
Odd? Not by a long shot.
The morning breeze swept the hill
Sunflowers dancing along
To the motion: nature's song.
The humid stickiness loomed
Low near the black pavement
The heat a persistent foe.
The mountain fresh with white
Skiers dotted the mountain
Like ants at a picnic.
The tree's dusted like sugar doughnuts
Children covered themselves with warmth
And rushed into the winter wonder.
The sun smiles as my pen plays
Inspiration: fun.
The trees hang luminous
Threatening oncoming winter
Their leaves briskly falling.
Simple yet so complex
Contradicting? Yes
Odd? Not by a long shot.
The morning breeze swept the hill
Sunflowers dancing along
To the motion: nature's song.
The humid stickiness loomed
Low near the black pavement
The heat a persistent foe.
The mountain fresh with white
Skiers dotted the mountain
Like ants at a picnic.
The tree's dusted like sugar doughnuts
Children covered themselves with warmth
And rushed into the winter wonder.
"Purple" by Meredith Lawson
Purple is the color of the summer rain,
It’s the source of my great pain.
Purple is the smell of the humid sky,
It’s the tent of darkness beneath my eyes.
Purple is the touch of golden grapes,
My heart’s wilted gloomy shape.
Purple is the death of a sunny day,
Purple is a burden upon the sun’s rays.
It’s the source of my great pain.
Purple is the smell of the humid sky,
It’s the tent of darkness beneath my eyes.
Purple is the touch of golden grapes,
My heart’s wilted gloomy shape.
Purple is the death of a sunny day,
Purple is a burden upon the sun’s rays.
Haiku Sequence by Nick DelBuono
The sun is setting
Mid-winter afternoon chill
Snow is glistening
Inside on a rainy day
Puddles start to fill
Flowers start to bloom
Down the long driveway
Deer stand in bottoms below
Scattering from cars
Up the tall oak tree
Birds nest in the branches far above
Singing fills the air
Way far out of view
I sit on a grassy knoll
Silence echoes here
Sleeping is when I
Can pretend I am alone
When the day ends
Mid-winter afternoon chill
Snow is glistening
Inside on a rainy day
Puddles start to fill
Flowers start to bloom
Down the long driveway
Deer stand in bottoms below
Scattering from cars
Up the tall oak tree
Birds nest in the branches far above
Singing fills the air
Way far out of view
I sit on a grassy knoll
Silence echoes here
Sleeping is when I
Can pretend I am alone
When the day ends
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Villanelle" by Alyssa Lawson
The sea stream slows,
Seems time has brought
Destruction while the smog blows-
While chemicals in the lake show
The sea stream slows.
Efforts to "Go green" she knows
Have failed. She fought
Destruction while the smog blows.
The need for more just grows
And grows - a solution never sought,
The sea stream slows
Mother Nature bellows
"You've had your last shot"
Destruction while the smog blows
But that's how the saying goes:
You gain a little you lose a lot.
The sea stream slows
Destruction while the smog blows
Seems time has brought
Destruction while the smog blows-
While chemicals in the lake show
The sea stream slows.
Efforts to "Go green" she knows
Have failed. She fought
Destruction while the smog blows.
The need for more just grows
And grows - a solution never sought,
The sea stream slows
Mother Nature bellows
"You've had your last shot"
Destruction while the smog blows
But that's how the saying goes:
You gain a little you lose a lot.
The sea stream slows
Destruction while the smog blows
"My Villanelle" by Li Hollinger
I like my life while you are in it, dear.
But our time is up now, and I'm getting scared.
So, what am I to do when you're not here?
I shouldn't be so selfish; I've had you for a year;
I knew that this was coming, and yet I'm unprepared.
I like my life while you are in it, dear.
You don't have to believe a word I say sincere.
I just couldn't let you leave without knowing I cared.
So, what am I going to do when you're no longer here?
For now I'll do my best just to keep you near;
I know when you leave none of me will be spared.
I like my life while you are in it, dear.
My future without you is foggy and unclear.
This is all your fault; you have me ensnared.
So, what am I going to do when you're no longer here?
When I come to say goodbye, don't expect a tear.
I would never put myself in front of you so bared.
I like my life while you are in it, dear.
So, what am I going to do when you're no longer here?
But our time is up now, and I'm getting scared.
So, what am I to do when you're not here?
I shouldn't be so selfish; I've had you for a year;
I knew that this was coming, and yet I'm unprepared.
I like my life while you are in it, dear.
You don't have to believe a word I say sincere.
I just couldn't let you leave without knowing I cared.
So, what am I going to do when you're no longer here?
For now I'll do my best just to keep you near;
I know when you leave none of me will be spared.
I like my life while you are in it, dear.
My future without you is foggy and unclear.
This is all your fault; you have me ensnared.
So, what am I going to do when you're no longer here?
When I come to say goodbye, don't expect a tear.
I would never put myself in front of you so bared.
I like my life while you are in it, dear.
So, what am I going to do when you're no longer here?
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
"My Brightest Star" by Meredith Lawson
My Brightest Star
This world is not your friend
Don’t try and make that bond
We can glide across a galaxy
To another planet, another life
Our hearts will follow the constellations
Knowing exactly where to go
Let our matching souls shine
Brighter than the brightest star
We’ll sail forever over the sun
Till He puts an end to what we realized
Was not so perfect, but the only
Perfect thing was us
Let’s shine forever
Brighter than the brightest star
This world is not your friend
Don’t try and make that bond
We can glide across a galaxy
To another planet, another life
Our hearts will follow the constellations
Knowing exactly where to go
Let our matching souls shine
Brighter than the brightest star
We’ll sail forever over the sun
Till He puts an end to what we realized
Was not so perfect, but the only
Perfect thing was us
Let’s shine forever
Brighter than the brightest star
"These Things Make Me Happy" by Alyssa Lawson
Wishful shopping online for expensive hats, wearing slippers accidentally, lack of makeup, messy-ing up my hair with my fingers and calling it a style, not having anywhere near the amount of money it actually takes to buy the things I crave, laughing it off, ending up at discount stores-wise choice, endless indie music track lists, knowing that I couldn't remember the name of the band for my life, most of those "nameless" bands-I call my favorite, feather pillows, my father's endless honey-do list, my envy of the lead singer of Fly Leaf, and the fact that I will never admit to actually being in love with their songs, freshly shampooed hair, that first bite of every cheesecake-it's always sweeter, the sound a soda can makes when you pop the tab, the color orange, the smell of chlorine and fresh pool towels, salt, the 90's, reflections, shiny things, scotch tape, thank you cards-not!, how much surprises drive me crazy, but how well worth it they turn out to be, the fact that I'm a horrible gift receiver-I try my best, a good hip-hop beat, secrets, oatmeal, lists, straight teeth, boys with girl hair, that pucker face every girl makes when she poses for a camera. The last bowl of cinnamon toast crunch, and the sugary coating your spoon gets when you dip it into the milk, brand new notebooks, the sound a book makes when you crack the binding for the first time, summer, chlorine, the look he gives me: it hasn't changed, large printed font, flashing lights, soft music, driving with the windows down, the headache you get when you eat so much sugar all at once, vowing you'll never do it again, but then the next day your promise is as good as gone, long books, reading slow, blue eyes, tennis-any newly found sport for that matter, trying new things, my checking account balance, crying so hard you just have to laugh, calculators, my fish: princess, magazine cut outs, outlet malls, chap stick, tape, book marks, sitting on the floor, not being alone, being left alone, Audrey Hepburn, white lies, the moon, thunderstorms, lame prom themes, my fingernails, that feeling you get between your toes when you walk on the beach, natural exfoliates, white, hot days, cold nights, running in the rain
"Razor Blade" by Karla McLung
Razor Blade
put my edge against your skin,
and reveal in pain and sin,
whether you love or hate me,
make damn sure you appreciate me,
for all i'm worth and thats a lot,
and don't fotget all that rot,
they tried to feed you,
choke it down,
but you spit it out when they turn around,
would kill you,
you'd kill yourself without me,
i'm all your wealth and treasure,
rolled into a sharp shard,
of your broken heart.
put my edge against your skin,
and reveal in pain and sin,
whether you love or hate me,
make damn sure you appreciate me,
for all i'm worth and thats a lot,
and don't fotget all that rot,
they tried to feed you,
choke it down,
but you spit it out when they turn around,
would kill you,
you'd kill yourself without me,
i'm all your wealth and treasure,
rolled into a sharp shard,
of your broken heart.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
"Down the Toilet" by Stephanie Milem
Ken paced back and forth across his living room floor aimlessly. He slid his hands into his now messy black hair and held his head still as he walked in a crazed path across his living room. His mind and heart had sped up during his run home and he hadn’t been able to calm them down since. He couldn’t think straight through the pounding in his head and the feeling of anxiety gripping his chest tightly . It sunk lower, gripping his stomach and churning until Ken had to lean against the living room wall to keep himself steady.
They were all familiar feelings, but it scared him every time.
He clamped a hand tightly over his mouth and held another to his stomach as he stood up straight. He stumbled from the living room to the hallway, and then a few more feet past his bedroom door to the bathroom. The light was already on, he had a habit of forgetting to flip it off when he was finished, so he dropped immediately to his knees and steadied himself by gripping the open toilet.
Kenichi took the week break from his job because he was cycling though a dark bought of depression that he was having trouble controlling. The medication seemed to do nothing but plague him with nasty side effects, and when anxiety set in it became more then he could handle. He turned on himself, mentally and physically, because he could no longer stand the disgusting thing he had become. Depression warped his self image, and in a desperate attempt to better himself and relieve the pain he turned to extreme measures. That week was particularly hard, and he wasn’t able to pull himself together enough to return to school.
Ken pushed his hair back from his face and held himself over the toilet by placing an elbow on each side. His fingers weren’t needed, he was already worked up enough to do it without them. He closed his eyes tightly, lowered his head, and the rest came as easily as the tears that slid down his cheeks. Ken gagged and heaved until his stomach was empty and then he fell back onto the bathroom floor and gasped for air.
It wasn’t enough, it never was. The empty feeling remained and his warped image of his scrawny body never changed. Ken reached up and undid his tie and then the buttons on his oversized suit and pulled his shirt and coat open. He laid a hand across his bonier chest and pressed his fingers against the prominent rib and collar bones. They were disgusting, no matter what he did he was disgusting. No matter how skinny he was nothing ever changed, but he continued because it had become a twisted addiction. Ken passed out there, stretched out on his back on the cold linoleum floor, his suit pulled open to reveal his emaciated shame.
They were all familiar feelings, but it scared him every time.
He clamped a hand tightly over his mouth and held another to his stomach as he stood up straight. He stumbled from the living room to the hallway, and then a few more feet past his bedroom door to the bathroom. The light was already on, he had a habit of forgetting to flip it off when he was finished, so he dropped immediately to his knees and steadied himself by gripping the open toilet.
Kenichi took the week break from his job because he was cycling though a dark bought of depression that he was having trouble controlling. The medication seemed to do nothing but plague him with nasty side effects, and when anxiety set in it became more then he could handle. He turned on himself, mentally and physically, because he could no longer stand the disgusting thing he had become. Depression warped his self image, and in a desperate attempt to better himself and relieve the pain he turned to extreme measures. That week was particularly hard, and he wasn’t able to pull himself together enough to return to school.
Ken pushed his hair back from his face and held himself over the toilet by placing an elbow on each side. His fingers weren’t needed, he was already worked up enough to do it without them. He closed his eyes tightly, lowered his head, and the rest came as easily as the tears that slid down his cheeks. Ken gagged and heaved until his stomach was empty and then he fell back onto the bathroom floor and gasped for air.
It wasn’t enough, it never was. The empty feeling remained and his warped image of his scrawny body never changed. Ken reached up and undid his tie and then the buttons on his oversized suit and pulled his shirt and coat open. He laid a hand across his bonier chest and pressed his fingers against the prominent rib and collar bones. They were disgusting, no matter what he did he was disgusting. No matter how skinny he was nothing ever changed, but he continued because it had become a twisted addiction. Ken passed out there, stretched out on his back on the cold linoleum floor, his suit pulled open to reveal his emaciated shame.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
"Last Visitation of the White Goddess" by David Sellers
It was on the first night of the summer
In the magical middle of June,
And I had gone down to the Rapidan River
To write poems and howl at the moon.
Now I’d always heard that the goddess
Luna, Selena , Cybelle…
Is a muse that drives poets to madness
As the full Moon when casting her spell.
And I felt all youth’s yearning returning,
After years of regret and neglect;
Yeah, I swear that that night was so clear, Dear,
That I truly believed we’d connect.
But it’s years since that night in midsummer,
Since that mystical evening in June;
And you never came back as you’d promised,
And I’m too old to howl at the Moon.
In the magical middle of June,
And I had gone down to the Rapidan River
To write poems and howl at the moon.
Now I’d always heard that the goddess
Luna, Selena , Cybelle…
Is a muse that drives poets to madness
As the full Moon when casting her spell.
And I felt all youth’s yearning returning,
After years of regret and neglect;
Yeah, I swear that that night was so clear, Dear,
That I truly believed we’d connect.
But it’s years since that night in midsummer,
Since that mystical evening in June;
And you never came back as you’d promised,
And I’m too old to howl at the Moon.
"The White Goddess" by Lexi Smith
White Goddess
I’m left clinging to this goddess
So white and frigid, she shames snow
I’m strapped around her bodice
All my gluttons of today she now knows
I don’t deserve this frustration and pain
I didn’t drink or party, or even play
Every experience supposedly has a gain
All I can see is white as bright as day
Abandoned with my lifeless goddess
I try to get it over with quick
Let the sickness take me in its fist
Purge all my bile, all my secrets that make me sick
Hours upon hours this lonely day I’ve spent with her
Cold, frigid, and hollow as she may be
At least she was there when no one else’d stir
My porcelain goddess, she’s always there for me
I’m left clinging to this goddess
So white and frigid, she shames snow
I’m strapped around her bodice
All my gluttons of today she now knows
I don’t deserve this frustration and pain
I didn’t drink or party, or even play
Every experience supposedly has a gain
All I can see is white as bright as day
Abandoned with my lifeless goddess
I try to get it over with quick
Let the sickness take me in its fist
Purge all my bile, all my secrets that make me sick
Hours upon hours this lonely day I’ve spent with her
Cold, frigid, and hollow as she may be
At least she was there when no one else’d stir
My porcelain goddess, she’s always there for me
Poems by Lexi Smith
But I Shouldn’t
I’m hurting, but I shouldn’t
I’d say it, but he wouldn’t
I’m torn from the inside
Gashes so long, so wide
I’m hurting, but I shouldn’t
You love me, but you won’t
You could say it, but you don’t
I’ve watched you as you’re leaving
So long I’m no longer seeing
You love me, but you won’t
We belong together, but we can’t
We should love, but we shan’t
Every night I hope and I dream
Every morning it turns to steam
We should love, but we shan’t
Decisions
Promises gone up in smoke
Years turned into a hoax
Wrong decision after wrong decision
Feelings ignored with precision
Tears done and dried
From eyes that saw lips lie
A heart broke without intent
Love that used to seem heaven sent
Dreams weighed down and lost
Every decision comes with a cost
My Marine
So strong and valiant, so ready and brave
He faces those challenges yet to be seen
Adventure and glory are what he craves
All in a day’s work for my Marine
It breaks my heart to watch him go
To face enemies more ruthless, savage and mean
But he’ll always return, this I know
Because it’s just the way of my Marine
Loyal and courageous until the very end
Always the first on every scene
He was born to serve and defend
All in the life of my Marine
Dedicated to my confidant and best friend, Jeffrey Herther
I’m hurting, but I shouldn’t
I’d say it, but he wouldn’t
I’m torn from the inside
Gashes so long, so wide
I’m hurting, but I shouldn’t
You love me, but you won’t
You could say it, but you don’t
I’ve watched you as you’re leaving
So long I’m no longer seeing
You love me, but you won’t
We belong together, but we can’t
We should love, but we shan’t
Every night I hope and I dream
Every morning it turns to steam
We should love, but we shan’t
Decisions
Promises gone up in smoke
Years turned into a hoax
Wrong decision after wrong decision
Feelings ignored with precision
Tears done and dried
From eyes that saw lips lie
A heart broke without intent
Love that used to seem heaven sent
Dreams weighed down and lost
Every decision comes with a cost
My Marine
So strong and valiant, so ready and brave
He faces those challenges yet to be seen
Adventure and glory are what he craves
All in a day’s work for my Marine
It breaks my heart to watch him go
To face enemies more ruthless, savage and mean
But he’ll always return, this I know
Because it’s just the way of my Marine
Loyal and courageous until the very end
Always the first on every scene
He was born to serve and defend
All in the life of my Marine
Dedicated to my confidant and best friend, Jeffrey Herther
"Kissing Lady Killers" by Lexi Smith
Kissing Lady Killers
Easter morning this year felt like any other Sunday morning, at first. Bonnie is up making breakfast and Dad is reading the paper. Uncle T is sleeping soundly on his bed that is one side of our couch while my brother watches a movie on the other side.
I wake just in time to be first in line for breakfast, which is important if you actually want to get more than a bite of eggs or a strip of bacon. After I have grabbed my usual three pieces of bacon and spoonful of eggs, I make my way over to the couch to steal my brother’s seat and see what he’s watching. I press play on the DVR and the movie Lady Killers resumes. It takes me a minute to realize why I have a sudden feeling of déjà vu.
It takes me back to my first kiss…four years ago. I was in 8th grade and it was my first official date, at least, my first official date that my dad knew of. I was going out with a boy from Caroline named John. He was cute and Puerto Rican. I had met him at the restaurant my family frequented weekly, where he was a busboy. For a few weeks all we did was stare at each other from across the restaurant, averting our eyes when ever they happened to meet, and when he occasionally asked if I’d like a refill. Even if my glass was full I batted my eyelashes and said, “Yes, thank you.”
Finally when the waitresses, who knew us both well, got tired of him not doing his work and me not paying eating the dinner they brought me. They pushed me up to the counter and forced us to talk. All I remember about the entire situation was his smile and that at the end he asked me to the movies. I nodded and gave him my number; then rushed out the door so I wouldn’t be left in Ladysmith.
We decided to see Lady Killers on Easter so that there wouldn’t be much of a crowd. We both hated crowded theaters. My dad drove to Lake Land’or to pick him up. We ended up being there an hour early. We had some extra money so we stopped for lunch at Burger King and then walked the rest of the way to the theater. Since we still had some time, John won me a stuffed dog out of the claw machine. It only took him six tries.
Finally, we took are seats in the very back of the empty theater. I was so nervous that my stomach could have won the gold medal in gymnastics three times over. It only got worse when he took my hand. Slowly, as my nerves calmed, my head slid to his shoulder. At some point, I actually started paying attention to the movie rather than how much my heart was pounding, but that was what led to me flinching and holding his hand too tight and hiding my eyes in the crook of his neck. He chuckled and tilted my chin up. He leaned in halfway and left the rest to me. I wasn’t sure if I should kiss him. It would be my first kiss and I didn’t know if I was any good at it.
In the end, I leaned in.
Easter morning this year felt like any other Sunday morning, at first. Bonnie is up making breakfast and Dad is reading the paper. Uncle T is sleeping soundly on his bed that is one side of our couch while my brother watches a movie on the other side.
I wake just in time to be first in line for breakfast, which is important if you actually want to get more than a bite of eggs or a strip of bacon. After I have grabbed my usual three pieces of bacon and spoonful of eggs, I make my way over to the couch to steal my brother’s seat and see what he’s watching. I press play on the DVR and the movie Lady Killers resumes. It takes me a minute to realize why I have a sudden feeling of déjà vu.
It takes me back to my first kiss…four years ago. I was in 8th grade and it was my first official date, at least, my first official date that my dad knew of. I was going out with a boy from Caroline named John. He was cute and Puerto Rican. I had met him at the restaurant my family frequented weekly, where he was a busboy. For a few weeks all we did was stare at each other from across the restaurant, averting our eyes when ever they happened to meet, and when he occasionally asked if I’d like a refill. Even if my glass was full I batted my eyelashes and said, “Yes, thank you.”
Finally when the waitresses, who knew us both well, got tired of him not doing his work and me not paying eating the dinner they brought me. They pushed me up to the counter and forced us to talk. All I remember about the entire situation was his smile and that at the end he asked me to the movies. I nodded and gave him my number; then rushed out the door so I wouldn’t be left in Ladysmith.
We decided to see Lady Killers on Easter so that there wouldn’t be much of a crowd. We both hated crowded theaters. My dad drove to Lake Land’or to pick him up. We ended up being there an hour early. We had some extra money so we stopped for lunch at Burger King and then walked the rest of the way to the theater. Since we still had some time, John won me a stuffed dog out of the claw machine. It only took him six tries.
Finally, we took are seats in the very back of the empty theater. I was so nervous that my stomach could have won the gold medal in gymnastics three times over. It only got worse when he took my hand. Slowly, as my nerves calmed, my head slid to his shoulder. At some point, I actually started paying attention to the movie rather than how much my heart was pounding, but that was what led to me flinching and holding his hand too tight and hiding my eyes in the crook of his neck. He chuckled and tilted my chin up. He leaned in halfway and left the rest to me. I wasn’t sure if I should kiss him. It would be my first kiss and I didn’t know if I was any good at it.
In the end, I leaned in.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
"GRAND4 [!!!]" by Meredith Lawson
GRAND4 [!!!]
GRAND4 [!!!] is what it’s all about
Best friends to the max, no doubt
The way we do the things we do
Mercat, Chelskay, Dixxay, and Chelsboo
We have a bond, strong as they come
Acting silly, crazy, and dumb
The first day we became the gang
We already had 10 words in our new lang.
Adding more and more to the “fresh list”
Like toofbrush, jabuabas, bif
Wodnerful, jacked up, and wif
Wearing tutu’s on Halloween
Game faces, dirty looks, being plain mean
Craving Subway at random times of the day
Doing anything possible to get our way
Flipping on mattresses, breaking necks
Tumbling in sleeping bags, tons of fun? You bet!
Reflector tag, army rolling, and breaking bones
Just to steal a sign or a cone
Forking an open field late at night
Forcing signs in the dirt with all our might.
Dancing like black men in front of a home theater
After a slumber, wishing our rooms were neater
Body painting in ice-cold weather
Lifting Dixayy in the air, being lighter than a feather
Making “Next: Like Never” lists and comparing boys
Basketball games, cheering, making noise
Spending hours on YouTube, laughing our faces off
Chelskay making fun of Mercat’s cough
Cupcake day, cupcake faces, and cupcakes
Night time walks to Dixayy’s cow-surrounded lake
The taste of freckled lemonades on Reb Robin trips
Giving Patrick Mercat’s number, leaving an extra tip
Boys we don’t know calling us at midnight
Sharing life stories on how they learned to fly a kite
“Yerr a jerk” becoming a famous line
Jamming out to 101’5’s “90’s at Nine”
Playing three-player Bop-It Extreme
Getting all decked out for our Spotsy team
Dancing to Jack Johnson on Saturday night bonfires
Watching stupid boys catch their whole lake on fire
Wishing we owned the heart of Justin Timberlake
Peanut butter brownies, wishing we could bake
Being best friends forever and ever
Breaking our bond? No way, never.
GRAND4 [!!!] is what it’s all about
Best friends to the max, no doubt
The way we do the things we do
Mercat, Chelskay, Dixxay, and Chelsboo
We have a bond, strong as they come
Acting silly, crazy, and dumb
The first day we became the gang
We already had 10 words in our new lang.
Adding more and more to the “fresh list”
Like toofbrush, jabuabas, bif
Wodnerful, jacked up, and wif
Wearing tutu’s on Halloween
Game faces, dirty looks, being plain mean
Craving Subway at random times of the day
Doing anything possible to get our way
Flipping on mattresses, breaking necks
Tumbling in sleeping bags, tons of fun? You bet!
Reflector tag, army rolling, and breaking bones
Just to steal a sign or a cone
Forking an open field late at night
Forcing signs in the dirt with all our might.
Dancing like black men in front of a home theater
After a slumber, wishing our rooms were neater
Body painting in ice-cold weather
Lifting Dixayy in the air, being lighter than a feather
Making “Next: Like Never” lists and comparing boys
Basketball games, cheering, making noise
Spending hours on YouTube, laughing our faces off
Chelskay making fun of Mercat’s cough
Cupcake day, cupcake faces, and cupcakes
Night time walks to Dixayy’s cow-surrounded lake
The taste of freckled lemonades on Reb Robin trips
Giving Patrick Mercat’s number, leaving an extra tip
Boys we don’t know calling us at midnight
Sharing life stories on how they learned to fly a kite
“Yerr a jerk” becoming a famous line
Jamming out to 101’5’s “90’s at Nine”
Playing three-player Bop-It Extreme
Getting all decked out for our Spotsy team
Dancing to Jack Johnson on Saturday night bonfires
Watching stupid boys catch their whole lake on fire
Wishing we owned the heart of Justin Timberlake
Peanut butter brownies, wishing we could bake
Being best friends forever and ever
Breaking our bond? No way, never.
"What I Love and More" by Sarah Chantharavongsa
What I Love And So Much More
The kitten nuzzling against my leg, attacking my shirt still when I put
it aside,
the fireplace crackling in front of me, it's warmth spreading through
my toes and feet,
the sad melody of guitars, working with the light tunes of the piano,
the voice that sings, that I pretend sings for me,
the lyricism of love,
the hollow feeling of love,
the absolute wonderful feeling of love,
the warmth of hugs,
the bittersweet taste of dark chocolate, the pieces melting on my
tongue,
the scent of fresh fruit, the taste of it lingering in my mouth,
the dazzling costumes of visual music, the glitter and the makeup,
intricate and beautiful,
the detailed carvings of cathedrals, the walls adorned with ancient
beauty,
the song i'm listening to right now called "Lilac", making me want to
cry each time I listen to it,
the drummer that continues to support me, and I for him,
the best part about being short, being able to be consistantly called
cute, when really, I'm not,
the pitter patter of rain, echoing through the walls,
the lovely feeling of being tired, snuggling into the blankets,
the feel of stretching my limbs across cool sheets,
the power of imagination,
seeing a fleeting pale rainbow arc across the sky, right after warm
spring rain,
the cuteness of a bright red umbrella,
the purity in seeing a white rose,
the amazing creativity humanity can give,
the lemonade taste of my childhood, bringing back memories I didn't
want and memories i will always cherish,
blowing the biggest bubble from soap water,
or squeezing the dish soap bottle, creating a burst of tiny mini
bubbles to blow out,
feeling the excitement of terror while watching a horror film,
running through the sunshine, never getting tired, feeling the rush and
the wind,
disobeying the rules, disobeying authority,
dancing spontaneously, just getting up and letting all the energy go,
singing along to songs,
the happiness of being able to do something I want to do,
whenever I look up at the night sky, I'm able to see the vast galaxy of
stars,
the lovely moon, when full is beautiful,
the beauty of dawn, the beauty of the sunset, the beauty of languages,
the beauty of friendship...
this is all of what i love, this is all of what i want.
and still so much more.
The kitten nuzzling against my leg, attacking my shirt still when I put
it aside,
the fireplace crackling in front of me, it's warmth spreading through
my toes and feet,
the sad melody of guitars, working with the light tunes of the piano,
the voice that sings, that I pretend sings for me,
the lyricism of love,
the hollow feeling of love,
the absolute wonderful feeling of love,
the warmth of hugs,
the bittersweet taste of dark chocolate, the pieces melting on my
tongue,
the scent of fresh fruit, the taste of it lingering in my mouth,
the dazzling costumes of visual music, the glitter and the makeup,
intricate and beautiful,
the detailed carvings of cathedrals, the walls adorned with ancient
beauty,
the song i'm listening to right now called "Lilac", making me want to
cry each time I listen to it,
the drummer that continues to support me, and I for him,
the best part about being short, being able to be consistantly called
cute, when really, I'm not,
the pitter patter of rain, echoing through the walls,
the lovely feeling of being tired, snuggling into the blankets,
the feel of stretching my limbs across cool sheets,
the power of imagination,
seeing a fleeting pale rainbow arc across the sky, right after warm
spring rain,
the cuteness of a bright red umbrella,
the purity in seeing a white rose,
the amazing creativity humanity can give,
the lemonade taste of my childhood, bringing back memories I didn't
want and memories i will always cherish,
blowing the biggest bubble from soap water,
or squeezing the dish soap bottle, creating a burst of tiny mini
bubbles to blow out,
feeling the excitement of terror while watching a horror film,
running through the sunshine, never getting tired, feeling the rush and
the wind,
disobeying the rules, disobeying authority,
dancing spontaneously, just getting up and letting all the energy go,
singing along to songs,
the happiness of being able to do something I want to do,
whenever I look up at the night sky, I'm able to see the vast galaxy of
stars,
the lovely moon, when full is beautiful,
the beauty of dawn, the beauty of the sunset, the beauty of languages,
the beauty of friendship...
this is all of what i love, this is all of what i want.
and still so much more.
"Heartbreaking" by Meredith Lawson
Heartbreaking is what I’m known for
Every time I meet a new boy, I think I need more.
No one ever seems to have the perfect personality
Or any form of conduct and morality.
It’s not my fault I can’t be content
And sometimes express things that weren’t meant
Some may define me as a tease
I’d just say I’m harder to please
I might like a boy and change my mind
But that’s no reason for him to sulk and whine
I’d say my heartbreaking is a skill
Not a flaw, yet I regret it still
I don’t enjoy making boys cry
Although the pity they expect is humorous, not going to lie
Boys just don’t seem appealing
So I keep getting more, pulling them in and reeling
Reeling in those somewhat cute faces
All ending up unattractive in several cases.
Every time I meet a new boy, I think I need more.
No one ever seems to have the perfect personality
Or any form of conduct and morality.
It’s not my fault I can’t be content
And sometimes express things that weren’t meant
Some may define me as a tease
I’d just say I’m harder to please
I might like a boy and change my mind
But that’s no reason for him to sulk and whine
I’d say my heartbreaking is a skill
Not a flaw, yet I regret it still
I don’t enjoy making boys cry
Although the pity they expect is humorous, not going to lie
Boys just don’t seem appealing
So I keep getting more, pulling them in and reeling
Reeling in those somewhat cute faces
All ending up unattractive in several cases.
"Daughter of Anubis" by Sarah Chantharavongsa
Daughter of Anubis
a fleeting vivid smile, her tinkling laughter
adorned with the finest gold clothing, the most beautifully carved
emeralds and rubies
the princess lays out all her limbs gracefully on the rocks, the
moonlight shadowing her perfect form most elegantly...
you can't have her though, she's one of the Untouchables
but with the flutter of her thick eyeslashes, she's just so tempting to
take
beckoning you forth with the slow, movement of her lips and a slender
finger, you can't take it anymore
but you can only stare at the magnificent view
there's always something that blocks the way
sweet and alluring, with her ivory white skin, her cropped raven hair
staring at you with her saddened shadowed opal eyes... "come closer..."
a fleeting vivid smile, her tinkling laughter
adorned with the finest gold clothing, the most beautifully carved
emeralds and rubies
the princess lays out all her limbs gracefully on the rocks, the
moonlight shadowing her perfect form most elegantly...
the blue night sky is lit up with the rays of the moon, so bright, that
the stars can't even be seen
the sands of the desert blow delicately, in the Eastern Wind, in her
wake,
the snakes and the scorpions guard her like a treasure
if you can find a way to break through that barrier, she just might be
yours, she might just let you take her...
the sparkle of her crown signifies her as one of His daughters; and if
you should even go as far as to tenderly touch your way up her thighs
and beyond, may He spare you in mercy
She's one of the Untouchables...
but doesn't she just look as lonely as ever?
a fleeting vivid smile, her tinkling laughter
adorned with the finest gold clothing, the most beautifully carved
emeralds and rubies
the princess lays out all her limbs gracefully on the rocks, the
moonlight shadowing her perfect form most elegantly...
you can't have her though, she's one of the Untouchables
but with the flutter of her thick eyeslashes, she's just so tempting to
take
beckoning you forth with the slow, movement of her lips and a slender
finger, you can't take it anymore
but you can only stare at the magnificent view
there's always something that blocks the way
sweet and alluring, with her ivory white skin, her cropped raven hair
staring at you with her saddened shadowed opal eyes... "come closer..."
a fleeting vivid smile, her tinkling laughter
adorned with the finest gold clothing, the most beautifully carved
emeralds and rubies
the princess lays out all her limbs gracefully on the rocks, the
moonlight shadowing her perfect form most elegantly...
the blue night sky is lit up with the rays of the moon, so bright, that
the stars can't even be seen
the sands of the desert blow delicately, in the Eastern Wind, in her
wake,
the snakes and the scorpions guard her like a treasure
if you can find a way to break through that barrier, she just might be
yours, she might just let you take her...
the sparkle of her crown signifies her as one of His daughters; and if
you should even go as far as to tenderly touch your way up her thighs
and beyond, may He spare you in mercy
She's one of the Untouchables...
but doesn't she just look as lonely as ever?
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
"Making a Living" by Li Hollinger
Making a Living:
(from Our Fabled Feathered Friends )
Rocs were difficult to catch, tended to breed quickly, and were typically massively mammoth in stature – ironically they also tended to be hard to find. Fortunately for Quin, it wasn’t her job to locate the giant predatory birds, it wasn’t even her job to net them or to reel them in; her oh-so-delightful job was to be bait. Of course, being the only girl on board the great Augustine she was also awarded the respectable duties of cleaning, cooking and mending as well. But it was for the former of these jobs that she was roused out of her sleep on a particularly chilly night, which she didn’t recognize as Christmas Eve due to the lack of calendars on board ship, to go stand in her skivvies on deck without so much as a dagger for her own defense. Naturally, she was given no explanation for the disruption of her dreams, nor was she given an apology for the bruises she was sure to have on her arms tomorrow from being dragged up the ladder to the deck. Quin rubbed her eyes tiredly and wished for a blanket; the winds were hard tonight and the ship was higher than usual – she squinted her eyes over the side, but the moon was waning and it was too dim to see the passing clouds. She busied herself instead with watching overhead as the sailors swung from Mizzenmast to Foremast hoisting the net up so that it would be ready to drop over the bird…and Quin if she didn’t move fast enough.
“Meat!”
Despite herself Quin turned around. She hated being called meat, like she was as dispensable as a pork-chop. The Captain stood by the bowsprit as normal, where he would be out of harms way but able to watch over his crew to ensure their safety and efficiency. Quin didn’t blame him from his cowardice now, he had done his risking in his time as a sailor – though he still appeared as young as some of his crew. Truth be told, she would have loved to see some of the sailors or even the Captain himself take a turn as bait, but the job had to be done by a female, for a Roc would tear a man to shreds, but would only feast on the flesh of a maiden.
“Meat, do your exercises! If I have to sail all the way back to town to fetch me another wench I swear I’ll-“
‘Do what?’ she thought, with a little smile to herself. “Just admit it, you old softy, you’ve grown a bit fond of my stupid face, haven’t ye?” She watched as he shouted something back with a face shaded red in anger but it was lost as the wind picked up. The great, wooden vessel began to turn, and she watched as the sailors file into their positions from the jib boom to the spanker. ‘We must be getting close.’ She ran quickly through all her stretches and did a short breathing exercise to test her groggy lungs and then her time was up.
The Augustine broke through the clouds in a great flourish of water-stained sails and a great caw of fury split the night, setting everything around Quin in immediate motion. The sailors grew rowdy and seemed to practically hum with anticipation, fingering their slipknots with twitchy digits, the Captain scanned the sky for a glimpse of the bird through his night-vision eyeglass, and the meat just did her best to look edible and delicious. Minutes passed with painful seconds as more angry cries were heard - It was unusual for it to take this long. Rocs were animals of instinct, not intelligence, they usually attacked without hesitation.
“Here it comes, Red female! Capture, not kill!”
‘Damn!’ Quin thought, that made her job a hell of a lot harder. Killing could be done in seconds with cannons, sometimes before it even reached the ship; but capturing required dodging talons, sometimes for minutes before the sailors decided the bird was in the right spot to drop the net. The decision for which action to take was made based on the color, not the gender, Red Rocs were rare and could be sold to skinners or collectors for their feathers for a very high profit. Out of the corner of her left eye Quin caught a flash of sanguine and onyx and she threw herself to the deck, jarring her shoulder out of its socket. ‘Ouch.’ She allowed herself to pine internally as she swung to her feet again and dashed to the Hammock Netting, pulling her arm back into place with a wince as she ran. Over her head she saw one of the sailors give the other a ‘thumbs up’. ‘That’s my cue.’ She dropped her lithe body quickly through one of the holes in netting, toppling onto the floor below tiredly as the air rushed from her lungs; she watched breathlessly as the net dropped overhead and, in what seemed to be slow-motion as her breathing slowly returned to normal, the crew slowly began the process of reining the beast in. Shivering once more as the breeze of the door to the hold opening reminded her of the cold, Quin allowed herself a small triumphant smile as she began to struggle to her slightly bruised feet.
“Not bad tonight, we found a nest too. The eggs will be worth a small fortune at market.”
Quin sneered up at the captain with all the strength and rebellion she could muster through her exhaustion – and being too tired to think up anything witty or intelligent as a retort she just shuffled past him towards the door as the first rays of sunlight hit her face. “It’s morning now.” She muttered, under her breath.
“So it is,” she heard behind her, a voice softly amused, “Merry Christmas.”
(from Our Fabled Feathered Friends )
Rocs were difficult to catch, tended to breed quickly, and were typically massively mammoth in stature – ironically they also tended to be hard to find. Fortunately for Quin, it wasn’t her job to locate the giant predatory birds, it wasn’t even her job to net them or to reel them in; her oh-so-delightful job was to be bait. Of course, being the only girl on board the great Augustine she was also awarded the respectable duties of cleaning, cooking and mending as well. But it was for the former of these jobs that she was roused out of her sleep on a particularly chilly night, which she didn’t recognize as Christmas Eve due to the lack of calendars on board ship, to go stand in her skivvies on deck without so much as a dagger for her own defense. Naturally, she was given no explanation for the disruption of her dreams, nor was she given an apology for the bruises she was sure to have on her arms tomorrow from being dragged up the ladder to the deck. Quin rubbed her eyes tiredly and wished for a blanket; the winds were hard tonight and the ship was higher than usual – she squinted her eyes over the side, but the moon was waning and it was too dim to see the passing clouds. She busied herself instead with watching overhead as the sailors swung from Mizzenmast to Foremast hoisting the net up so that it would be ready to drop over the bird…and Quin if she didn’t move fast enough.
“Meat!”
Despite herself Quin turned around. She hated being called meat, like she was as dispensable as a pork-chop. The Captain stood by the bowsprit as normal, where he would be out of harms way but able to watch over his crew to ensure their safety and efficiency. Quin didn’t blame him from his cowardice now, he had done his risking in his time as a sailor – though he still appeared as young as some of his crew. Truth be told, she would have loved to see some of the sailors or even the Captain himself take a turn as bait, but the job had to be done by a female, for a Roc would tear a man to shreds, but would only feast on the flesh of a maiden.
“Meat, do your exercises! If I have to sail all the way back to town to fetch me another wench I swear I’ll-“
‘Do what?’ she thought, with a little smile to herself. “Just admit it, you old softy, you’ve grown a bit fond of my stupid face, haven’t ye?” She watched as he shouted something back with a face shaded red in anger but it was lost as the wind picked up. The great, wooden vessel began to turn, and she watched as the sailors file into their positions from the jib boom to the spanker. ‘We must be getting close.’ She ran quickly through all her stretches and did a short breathing exercise to test her groggy lungs and then her time was up.
The Augustine broke through the clouds in a great flourish of water-stained sails and a great caw of fury split the night, setting everything around Quin in immediate motion. The sailors grew rowdy and seemed to practically hum with anticipation, fingering their slipknots with twitchy digits, the Captain scanned the sky for a glimpse of the bird through his night-vision eyeglass, and the meat just did her best to look edible and delicious. Minutes passed with painful seconds as more angry cries were heard - It was unusual for it to take this long. Rocs were animals of instinct, not intelligence, they usually attacked without hesitation.
“Here it comes, Red female! Capture, not kill!”
‘Damn!’ Quin thought, that made her job a hell of a lot harder. Killing could be done in seconds with cannons, sometimes before it even reached the ship; but capturing required dodging talons, sometimes for minutes before the sailors decided the bird was in the right spot to drop the net. The decision for which action to take was made based on the color, not the gender, Red Rocs were rare and could be sold to skinners or collectors for their feathers for a very high profit. Out of the corner of her left eye Quin caught a flash of sanguine and onyx and she threw herself to the deck, jarring her shoulder out of its socket. ‘Ouch.’ She allowed herself to pine internally as she swung to her feet again and dashed to the Hammock Netting, pulling her arm back into place with a wince as she ran. Over her head she saw one of the sailors give the other a ‘thumbs up’. ‘That’s my cue.’ She dropped her lithe body quickly through one of the holes in netting, toppling onto the floor below tiredly as the air rushed from her lungs; she watched breathlessly as the net dropped overhead and, in what seemed to be slow-motion as her breathing slowly returned to normal, the crew slowly began the process of reining the beast in. Shivering once more as the breeze of the door to the hold opening reminded her of the cold, Quin allowed herself a small triumphant smile as she began to struggle to her slightly bruised feet.
“Not bad tonight, we found a nest too. The eggs will be worth a small fortune at market.”
Quin sneered up at the captain with all the strength and rebellion she could muster through her exhaustion – and being too tired to think up anything witty or intelligent as a retort she just shuffled past him towards the door as the first rays of sunlight hit her face. “It’s morning now.” She muttered, under her breath.
“So it is,” she heard behind her, a voice softly amused, “Merry Christmas.”
"These Have I Loved" by Li Hollinger
These I have loved...
Drawing pictures in a steamed up windows, of hearts;
And names of those I love.
Running outside in my underwear when the first snow falls to make a snow angel,
Then dashing back inside to huddle under the covers.
Playing a videogame all the way through in one day, or three; not sleeping.
Brushing my teeth until my gums bleed.
Keeping inside jokes just between me and the people they mean something to.
Laughing at silly things.
Not being able to stop.
Using words other people don’t know – and not telling them what they mean.
Having an intelligent debate about something stupid, I could argue for hours.
Long books with small words;
And characters I can relate to.
Zombies.
Dreams that I know aren’t real.
Dreams that fool me.
Waking up to the smell of coffee already waiting for me.
Samantha.
A boy who thought he wasn’t human;
‘Till I proved him wrong.
Biting my nails until they bleed.
Walking a straight line until my legs ache, when the wind is pushing against me like a current.
People I can’t predict, and continue to surprise me no matter what.
Soft things.
The ‘tap’ing sound the keyboard makes when I type as quickly as I can.
Having another body beside me while I sleep – I like the warmth;
And the rhythm of a chest moving up and down against me.
Intensely over-reacting, only to realize how silly I was being later;
Then hating myself for it.
Being able to sit with someone for hours and talk, not minding if sometimes we run out of things to say.
Reciting quotes I don’t understand, and then mocking people for not getting them.
Houses with really high ceilings that make you feel small.
People who don’t think I’m weird when I sniff them.
Playing a movie in the background on my computer over and over
Until I can recite all the lines but have no idea what the actors look like.
Looking people in the eyes and not feeling like I’m going to vomit;
Or run away.
Bananas
When they’re still bright green.
Drawing pictures in a steamed up windows, of hearts;
And names of those I love.
Running outside in my underwear when the first snow falls to make a snow angel,
Then dashing back inside to huddle under the covers.
Playing a videogame all the way through in one day, or three; not sleeping.
Brushing my teeth until my gums bleed.
Keeping inside jokes just between me and the people they mean something to.
Laughing at silly things.
Not being able to stop.
Using words other people don’t know – and not telling them what they mean.
Having an intelligent debate about something stupid, I could argue for hours.
Long books with small words;
And characters I can relate to.
Zombies.
Dreams that I know aren’t real.
Dreams that fool me.
Waking up to the smell of coffee already waiting for me.
Samantha.
A boy who thought he wasn’t human;
‘Till I proved him wrong.
Biting my nails until they bleed.
Walking a straight line until my legs ache, when the wind is pushing against me like a current.
People I can’t predict, and continue to surprise me no matter what.
Soft things.
The ‘tap’ing sound the keyboard makes when I type as quickly as I can.
Having another body beside me while I sleep – I like the warmth;
And the rhythm of a chest moving up and down against me.
Intensely over-reacting, only to realize how silly I was being later;
Then hating myself for it.
Being able to sit with someone for hours and talk, not minding if sometimes we run out of things to say.
Reciting quotes I don’t understand, and then mocking people for not getting them.
Houses with really high ceilings that make you feel small.
People who don’t think I’m weird when I sniff them.
Playing a movie in the background on my computer over and over
Until I can recite all the lines but have no idea what the actors look like.
Looking people in the eyes and not feeling like I’m going to vomit;
Or run away.
Bananas
When they’re still bright green.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
"Life" by Meredith Lawson
Life
Life. It’s the life:
Cuddling with boys in scary movies;
Fresh words like grand, frunk and woovy.
Baton-twirling under stadium lighting;
Popcorn, fruit-snack, and Dorito biting.
The angle of James Franco’s jaw lines;
My hatred for those who whine.
Jack Johnson’s appealing voice;
My sister’s heroic traits and poise.
Big, warm hoodies and peacoats;
Spending a day at the beach making sand moats.
Cheeseburgers and fries, all mixed together;
Wearing a smile, no matter the weather.
Dances required for certain gangsturr tunes;
Itchy grass, lighted by a rising moon.
Embellishments such as sparkly headbands;
Old games like Twister and Candy Land.
Acoustic jams that recall what used to be;
Hula-Hooping on Dixie’s Wii.
Strawberry-flavored sunburn: “surprisingly Mer;”
Nicknames like Mercat, Merboo, and Merbear.
652 boys to keep track of;
Being oblivious to the feeling of love.
Taste of calzones hitting my tongue;
Hannah Montana, Jonas Brothers, being young.
101.9 radio station;
Trips to Alabama –the annual vacation.
Gaining energy from cheap Chinese food
Happy, hyper, and hopeful moods.
Slumbering more than I sleep
Making memories to keep.
Skipping school, faking sick;
Pink rzr’s with funny clicks.
Midnight snacks with bestfriends;
My crazy, curly hair flowing in the wind.
Brandon Cox, watching Auburn football with Dad
When they lose, screaming at the TV, being mad.
The excitement of twirling fire, even a knife;
My personality, my friends, It’s the good life!
Life. It’s the life:
Cuddling with boys in scary movies;
Fresh words like grand, frunk and woovy.
Baton-twirling under stadium lighting;
Popcorn, fruit-snack, and Dorito biting.
The angle of James Franco’s jaw lines;
My hatred for those who whine.
Jack Johnson’s appealing voice;
My sister’s heroic traits and poise.
Big, warm hoodies and peacoats;
Spending a day at the beach making sand moats.
Cheeseburgers and fries, all mixed together;
Wearing a smile, no matter the weather.
Dances required for certain gangsturr tunes;
Itchy grass, lighted by a rising moon.
Embellishments such as sparkly headbands;
Old games like Twister and Candy Land.
Acoustic jams that recall what used to be;
Hula-Hooping on Dixie’s Wii.
Strawberry-flavored sunburn: “surprisingly Mer;”
Nicknames like Mercat, Merboo, and Merbear.
652 boys to keep track of;
Being oblivious to the feeling of love.
Taste of calzones hitting my tongue;
Hannah Montana, Jonas Brothers, being young.
101.9 radio station;
Trips to Alabama –the annual vacation.
Gaining energy from cheap Chinese food
Happy, hyper, and hopeful moods.
Slumbering more than I sleep
Making memories to keep.
Skipping school, faking sick;
Pink rzr’s with funny clicks.
Midnight snacks with bestfriends;
My crazy, curly hair flowing in the wind.
Brandon Cox, watching Auburn football with Dad
When they lose, screaming at the TV, being mad.
The excitement of twirling fire, even a knife;
My personality, my friends, It’s the good life!
Friday, January 4, 2008
"Winter's Delight" by Kevin Foley
Tracing the heavens
With crystals of ice
On stillborn moons
Of rapture’s delight
In fading December
With one kiss goodnight
In winter's embrace
Her gentle Reich
It’s so hard to breath
With her in my sight
That single kiss
Always on my mind
With crystals of ice
On stillborn moons
Of rapture’s delight
In fading December
With one kiss goodnight
In winter's embrace
Her gentle Reich
It’s so hard to breath
With her in my sight
That single kiss
Always on my mind
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)