Wispy fingers drift through the sky
They reach out to grasp anything,
Just to stay a little longer,
They don't want toleave
And neither do I
Stealthy bodies glide down the slopes
Trying to run away
To stay alive
But they slip and flow through the cracks
Like all my dreams and hopes
Hungry mouths, hungry for more
Burning teeth
Scorching tongues
Deadly-tempered, and self-destructing
Like life, it will leave you scarred and sore
Crimson tears
Seeping through flesh
Can't be staunched
Too much loss
Everlasting fears
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Friday, February 17, 2012
Asa Clark by Hannah M.
Arcane force of energy and concealment.
Shrewd phenomenon lurking around in the afterlife.
Anonymous being giving advice to adolescents.
Clandestine on whom he truly is.
Largess about other student’s creative pieces.
Aloof for years until 2010.
Rhetoric with all the educated comments.
Knowledgeable as large as the world’s oldest library.
Shrewd phenomenon lurking around in the afterlife.
Anonymous being giving advice to adolescents.
Clandestine on whom he truly is.
Largess about other student’s creative pieces.
Aloof for years until 2010.
Rhetoric with all the educated comments.
Knowledgeable as large as the world’s oldest library.
Monday, February 6, 2012
If by Erika Z.
If I had let her stay, none of this would have ever happened. If had let her stay, I wouldn't be feeling the pain of sorrow and guilt grasping around my heart. If I had let her stay, she would have been living a life of misery and drudgery.
My love for her was too strong to watch her living an unbearable life. My love for her came over me like a storm at sea would have crashed on the shore. My love for her grew and grew like a red rose blossoms in the summer air, until it was unbearable for me.
She had to go. She deserved to be living the high life, a world where there is no hatred, a world as magnificent as heaven. Instead she was stuck here, in the exact opposite of worlds.
She had to go. A girl as perfect as she was had to go.
Someone had to do it. That someone was me.
My love for her was too strong to watch her living an unbearable life. My love for her came over me like a storm at sea would have crashed on the shore. My love for her grew and grew like a red rose blossoms in the summer air, until it was unbearable for me.
She had to go. She deserved to be living the high life, a world where there is no hatred, a world as magnificent as heaven. Instead she was stuck here, in the exact opposite of worlds.
She had to go. A girl as perfect as she was had to go.
Someone had to do it. That someone was me.
Friday, February 3, 2012
A Ghastly Past by Miranda K
It was a peaceful 'morn; the sun was pouring through the windows and cardinals were calling from outside in the amber daylight. Rising from the cotton bed sheets, Mrs. Burkhart fondled over the idea of departing from their household today. She patted the other side of the bed blindly; her husband had departed from the bedroom. Mr. Burkhart was alone in the kitchen, sipping his daily caffeine nonchalantly; the cool tile floor kept him pacing around in more of a concerned and frantic manner. He held the daily newspaper in his hand, gripping it tightly as he read the terrifying stories
of their once all peaceful neighborhood. This was why they were moving, of course - a dangerous city is no place children should be raised.
Boxes were piled high against the stone walls; the majority of their utilities and furnishings were already packed and ready to set sail to a new environment. Dave's, Mr. Burkhart’s, hand was wrapped around his ceramic coffee cup, the grip tightening so. It’s always so stressful before a move, is it not? Your mind wanders so often you might begin to become forgetful and often find that it wasn’t as easy as you would have imagined it to be. There are so many things to keep track of, and not to mention all of the new expenses that would change in the new facility. These kind of thoughts are what flooded his mind, whisking around, stirring up emotions about all of the things and luxuries he might miss, things that he has grown to love, they would be gone without the bustling city at his grasp.
Crack! The coffee mug shattered between his fingers; the caffeinated drink pooled around on the tile and splashed at his flannel pajamas. A few minor cuts were displayed on his palm; they swelled and began to bleed. His reaction to all of the memories and emotions that had taken place in their home, they were dwelling as tears, but not so many as to make him look like a sensitive kind of man. That he was not. Both of his cheeks were a pale red, with streaks of water dripping down them. Dave’s blonde hair hung shaggily over his right eye as he doubled over and picked up the broken shards of the acrylic painted glass.
Once all of the bits and pieces were placed inside of the waste basket, the man, with a half barbaric look to his eyes, took a tattered rag and wiped the coffee off of the ground and rung the cloth out in the sink. He started off into the hallway, passing the bare walls where picture frames and remnants of the family’s past used to be seen. But now it was just an empty abyss. His feet shuffled along the wooden floors, once he reached the steps; his steps echoed throughout the basement and followed suit into the
bedroom. Jade, Dave’s wife, was awake, and now she was sitting before her armoire gazing at all of her clothing she could choose. The young woman walked over to the doorway, greeting her husband with a gleeful smile and a wink, through her glasses she could see that he was simply not in the mood for something so cheerful. But Dave put on a fake smile, and kissed his spouse on the cheek lightly.
of their once all peaceful neighborhood. This was why they were moving, of course - a dangerous city is no place children should be raised.
Boxes were piled high against the stone walls; the majority of their utilities and furnishings were already packed and ready to set sail to a new environment. Dave's, Mr. Burkhart’s, hand was wrapped around his ceramic coffee cup, the grip tightening so. It’s always so stressful before a move, is it not? Your mind wanders so often you might begin to become forgetful and often find that it wasn’t as easy as you would have imagined it to be. There are so many things to keep track of, and not to mention all of the new expenses that would change in the new facility. These kind of thoughts are what flooded his mind, whisking around, stirring up emotions about all of the things and luxuries he might miss, things that he has grown to love, they would be gone without the bustling city at his grasp.
Crack! The coffee mug shattered between his fingers; the caffeinated drink pooled around on the tile and splashed at his flannel pajamas. A few minor cuts were displayed on his palm; they swelled and began to bleed. His reaction to all of the memories and emotions that had taken place in their home, they were dwelling as tears, but not so many as to make him look like a sensitive kind of man. That he was not. Both of his cheeks were a pale red, with streaks of water dripping down them. Dave’s blonde hair hung shaggily over his right eye as he doubled over and picked up the broken shards of the acrylic painted glass.
Once all of the bits and pieces were placed inside of the waste basket, the man, with a half barbaric look to his eyes, took a tattered rag and wiped the coffee off of the ground and rung the cloth out in the sink. He started off into the hallway, passing the bare walls where picture frames and remnants of the family’s past used to be seen. But now it was just an empty abyss. His feet shuffled along the wooden floors, once he reached the steps; his steps echoed throughout the basement and followed suit into the
bedroom. Jade, Dave’s wife, was awake, and now she was sitting before her armoire gazing at all of her clothing she could choose. The young woman walked over to the doorway, greeting her husband with a gleeful smile and a wink, through her glasses she could see that he was simply not in the mood for something so cheerful. But Dave put on a fake smile, and kissed his spouse on the cheek lightly.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Ashes of the Past by Melody G.
Flames, flames burn away
All the pain of today
Ashes blow, children cry
I set the fire, don't ask why
Hungry wives and not one man
Just lit the flame, turned and ran
Smoke billow through the sky
Signify all those who will die
Burn and spread like the pain in my chest
Keep running, fly to the woods, do not stop, and do not rest
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Carnival by Sam K.
The day went by dry as a desert muskrat; the air was thick, like slow-moving syrup. Though the weather was anything but enjoyable, Father tore me away from the heavenly chill of the AC to go to the carnival. Through the heterogeneous mixture of whining kids and bad dental hygiene, I found life; life that has been deep fried and powdered with love and happiness. Standing in line was worth the sweet texture and heavenly aroma of the cake from a funnel.
But then, it happened: Father saw a mechanical demon he called "the roller coaster." I begged Father that we stay away from this horrific machine and go play a game. He insisted that it would be great. 'The Fun' he had promised: the blessedness of joy he raved about; it was a lie. High velocities of speed and fear pulsed through my veins; screaming with all of my might, I saw my dad laughing as we conquered this beast of machinery. After what felt like years of torturous screaming, the ride was over.
Walking off the ride, I felt strange. The queasiness in my stomach...the light-headed feeling in my skull...that’s when I knew this wasn't going to end well. Up came my spongy funnel, up came whole cheese curds, up came pellets of my hot dog -- red as clotted blood. Hot acidic wave followed hot acidic wave -- each bilious spasm so horrific, I feared that my aesthetic might never fully recover. With blushes of embarrassment, Father rushed me to the car and headed home.
But then, it happened: Father saw a mechanical demon he called "the roller coaster." I begged Father that we stay away from this horrific machine and go play a game. He insisted that it would be great. 'The Fun' he had promised: the blessedness of joy he raved about; it was a lie. High velocities of speed and fear pulsed through my veins; screaming with all of my might, I saw my dad laughing as we conquered this beast of machinery. After what felt like years of torturous screaming, the ride was over.
Walking off the ride, I felt strange. The queasiness in my stomach...the light-headed feeling in my skull...that’s when I knew this wasn't going to end well. Up came my spongy funnel, up came whole cheese curds, up came pellets of my hot dog -- red as clotted blood. Hot acidic wave followed hot acidic wave -- each bilious spasm so horrific, I feared that my aesthetic might never fully recover. With blushes of embarrassment, Father rushed me to the car and headed home.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Your Voice by Raven
Your voice shook the heavens
With its pure silken charm
Your laugh delighted the winter sky
So that it laughed along with you
Sending down flakes of snow
Lightly from its reach.
No one else noticed
That it was your voice, your laugh
Alone
That brought down the snow.
Only I saw this
Only I saw how the snow wished to touch you
From the other side of the window's glass
So much as I wanted to touch your cheek
In that moment
That one wintry moment
When your voice made it snow.
With its pure silken charm
Your laugh delighted the winter sky
So that it laughed along with you
Sending down flakes of snow
Lightly from its reach.
No one else noticed
That it was your voice, your laugh
Alone
That brought down the snow.
Only I saw this
Only I saw how the snow wished to touch you
From the other side of the window's glass
So much as I wanted to touch your cheek
In that moment
That one wintry moment
When your voice made it snow.
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