Month: January 2019

The sand and dirt hit my face
As I stepped into a mysterious place
One from a memory long, long ago
From a place where the wind never blows
The sand was a fiery field on hot summer days
Where you could only really sit and gaze
At an unforgiving place that was never home
And think through the possibilities and roam
I saw trees with birds that flew so high
Twinkling in that same summer sky
But in a different place that I could see
A little girl finally full of glee
Through adventures and car rides that lasted days
I found this peace in unfortunate ways
But the end was blissful and finally I
Found the place where I could touch the sky

---

James Bowie High School

11

I am a firefly, burning with ambition and curiosity.
I wonder about the world around me and where my inner light will guide me.
I hear the melodies of crickets chirping in the distance.
I see inexplicable beauty in nature.
I dance majestically in the dark night sky.
I am a firefly, burning with ambition and curiosity.
I yearn to fly far beyond the constraints that this world imposes on me.
I feel the glow of the moonlight on my face.
I touch the hearts of others with my warmth and bright light.
I worry about what I do and if it is too much or too little.
I cry about the past, but am hopeful for the future ahead of me.
I am a firefly, burning with ambition and curiosity.
I understand that my inner light is the brightest light of all.
I believe strength comes from within and I can do anything I set my mind to.
I dream of the things I cannot see, but can feel in my heart.
I try my best to look for the good in everyone.
I hope that people will look up to me and that I will be an example to others.
I am a firefly, burning with ambition and curiosity…
Who will illuminate the world with my inner glow.

---

James Bowie High School

11

one still image
could hold so much,
1000 actions posted
between the picture.

memories of the past
become apparent,
sad…happy
who knew so much was in something,
so little.

even those who try to forget,
And those who want to remember,
photos remind everybody
of what life
was,
just like a story, a photo can unfold a side
you didn’t know you had

---

Gorzycki Middle School

7

Every,      and, of,       heaving,

           fall, rise,      my, chest,

                                                        will,

                                                        lead,

                                                        to,

                                                        me,

                                                        falling,

                                                        down,

                                                    I’m at

                                             a two

                                      way street

                                where                  I

                           can’t                              decide

                         where                                    to

                       go                                              in

                    my                                                       panic,

      Thump,          Thump, Thump,           Thump, Thump,

                  Thump, Thump,            Thump, Thump,  Thump,

         I c a    n ‘ t b r   e a t h e ,

              B u t I w o  n ‘ t l e t t h a t  s t o p m e,

           I w o n ‘  t d i e,

        Because I am a beautiful poem,

        And my every breath is a comma,

        To never end the sound of my voice speaking to you,

        I will defy the rules that my every breath must be like periods,

        They don’t want to be like periods in how they perfect the art of endings,

        You say my every breath should be like periods so I’ll be more structurally put together,

        But I thrive in my quirkiness, and actually find myself too irreplaceable of a soul to fade,

        I’m a panicked person that isn’t structurally put together,

        Yet able to surprise you with how I won’t back out,

        This beautiful poem of a person written before you won’t end with a period,

        Because all of my pulses are commas that perfect the art of not being finished off,

        Inside of this strong panicked writer,

---

Mcneil High School

12

Hesitation,
Simmering sparks of significant heat on the sulfur strand
Conducted the burst’s bellowing descent onto the base of the inevitable. Carefully, the chemicals collapsed.
A combusted, impassioned corkscrew.
Color catapulted, covering the ceiling with a careful celestial of vibrance:
Raw hues of reserved raspberry,
ripe reds with dashes of ruby.
The sky’s glitter growled gradual gasps of
combustion, glorifying the lustful holler
that eventually evolved: exploded,
enticing explicit observations from the Earthbound.
The once dark and dim became the dashing and distinctive, daring new experiences. a nebula only needing us – now.
no longer night, but a bright sky of abstract emotions: colors – no harsh words,
however hues of the heart hovering like heavenly herrings.
but below the heaven: blues bark, burgundy babbles, blasting back the daylight.

an aurora illuminating the paling iridescent,

aiding the avoidance of the arid non-artificial and the naiveté of the now. maturity mirroring that of the magnificent momentary fire in the sky. a new found distraction from the looming disastrous deadline of the sky’s delicate painting,

drifting into the deep dark. The once fickle fiasco fades, falling into the forthcoming nostalgia of the once shared sky. ash remnants falling, bound
no longer to the valley of the temporary, but forever constrained by the reality of brief circumstance and time, buried as fossils of earth’s memory,
no different than us.

---

James Bowie High School

12

Heroes are Friends
Heroes are family
Heroes help and heroes listen
When you are having trouble
Heroes love and care
Matter were they are always there
This is what a real hero is to me

---

Gorzyzki Middle School

6

---

LC Anderson High School

11

Fear and fun all in one

A tube into the unknown.

Where it goes no one knows,

All they know is it’s a water slide.

---

Gorzycki Middle School

6