Vision+Voice – Page 241

Anticipation

I count the hours, the minutes, the seconds on my hand.
The journey has begun, around me, a nauseous dome.
I sit there, I wait, wait for the motherland.

I imagine my feet running in the sand.
My mind, in an endless roam.
I count the hours, the minutes, the seconds on my hand.

The moving carts are like a loud, unsynchronized band.
The noises overwhelm, but the clouds outside a calm, soft foam.
I sit there, I wait, wait for the motherland.

I watch them waiting for the dreamland.
Rotting away, still as a garden gnome.
I count the hours, the minutes, the seconds on my hand.

I listen softly to the music strand.
The journey is at its end, around me, a sleepy dome.
I sit there, I wait, wait for the motherland.

The long, long minutes we all have to withstand.
I just want to go home.
I count the hours, the minutes, the seconds on my hand.
We sit there, we wait, wait for the motherland.

McCallum High School

The Last day on Earth

My love, slowly fading away in my eyes,
her bright blue ominous eyes, getting less threatening,
slowly, the color washes away from her beautiful face,
drowning in a mass of confusion.

Water, slowly trickling down my parched lips,
landing on my dry bed in a “Splash!”

Colors, all around me, like a loved scent that you could never turn from,
skillfully drifting away in the dark shadows.
“Call back,” I say, with no conviction in my voice,
but the beautiful bright colors that once used to overwhelm me with pride,
are now black and dusty like a dark cavern.

My eyelids flutter closed slowly and soundly,
all my precious items disappearing in my view,
drifting back behind my socket.

My heart, strumming its last beat, like a guitar strumming its last note,
and then finally stops with a drums final beat.

My life has slowly slithered away from me,
and everything I cared for has

vanished.

Gorzycki Middle School

Circus

you favor the contrast between the red
and the black

my elegance swings but hangs

what if you have no way of determining whether this entertainment is just an excuse to disguise my fall as something beautiful?

(yes) i have glitter in my eyes
and perhaps you can’t see my particular pain?

i
have to glorify this lie
although it is true that
i
am but a trapeze acrobat

in no way am i just red or fancy or flexible

you are not vexed by my nature because (to you)
i am an orchestra (too)
easily you develop an adoration for my tunes

i am so high and
(i know) i entertain your loss(es)

the red i sport
you
do not envision as blood

i am love
i am the seasons
hurting or pleasing

why is time a bore?
you shouldn’t think (that) i was born this way

i sparkle for a reason
even if the first time is the last
even if the landing isn’t pretty
i know why i stand

nonetheless
i crave an immediate and sudden end to this (ride)
it feels like 25 cents
hunger is past 12
and fun is only a 3 letter word

Stony Point High School

Nostalgia

In a freezing Costco I look for
the warm orange
of some freshly harvested
pumpkin
or the deep smell of dried hay.

Out of the window I imagine
a tiny car and immeasurable
countryside,
but I just see boundless
streets and intrusive trucks.

Pale places
used to bored me
in my memories now
I’m intrigued by their joyful color.

Family
an expert puppet master that
used to suffocate me,
now I search for them
in my dreams.

Voices
were loud and oppressive
a barking noise
now I can hear them calling from afar
like Ulysses’s mermaids never-ending song
imploring to go home.

My stomach is full of stones,
there’s a weight in my lungs,
Not air,
but
nostalgia.

James Bowie High School

Beyond the Horizon

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

Little Firefly

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

Photographs

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

If I’m A Sunrise And The Rain Simultaneously, Then Obviously I’m A Sunshower(Concrete Poetry And Acrostic Poetry Combined)

and still
can’t cry find light
You think a sunrise no matter what.
happily even
that thrives in my
I am a sunshower very many tragedies.
while glowing
and I burn and still not
I drown surrendering hope.
H i s t o r y r e p e a t s l i k e f a l l i n g r a i n
a g a e n e o e e r n l r o o s e t o g o o n u h e s n i
p n n x v u l r e t w a u v p e r o i u s g a v t c
p i c u e e i s e a u n e t r g n t d i a s i o e
I t t a r a e s r y m d n e y e l d c t v n n
n e i l e s u i s a l a t r y e i l e i e
e s c l n e r n t e l i t y s s
s t y t e g i s l n y h s
s y c s y g m
a l e
l y n
l t
y
D o w n m y c h e e k s
e p h o o o o o n g i a
l t i w t u m n r a s c
i i m i r e o i l m r
v m i v s r c i e e
e i s a e a h t t d
r s i t l b i a l
m c e f l n r y
a y g i
l a
l n
y

Mcneil High School

A Strong Panicked Writer Is A Beautiful Poem

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,

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

Firework

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