Category: 2019-20 Submissions

Stand up for the voiceless!
You lock us up in cages.
You give us a fright.
With no blankets for the night.
Stand up for the animals!
No family to love.
No place to call home.
You leave us all alone.
Stand up against the circus!
They make us do tricks.
They whip us and hurt us.
We’ve no one to trust.
Save us circus animals so…
Stand up!!!

We are all here wasting away.
Getting hunted down like a cat and its prey.
There are many of us.
I’ll list a few.
Ocelots, tree frogs, and leopards too.
We are turning into dust like some trees do.
Our habitats destroyed.
Wha!! Boo hoo!!
Our homes are dead as a rock.
There’s nothing we can block.
Think about it next time you go to the store.
Before you get the latest hard wood floor.
Where did the wood come from before?

Stella

We raced across the cracked pavement,
worn down from years of the lake lapping at its edge,
hands clasped tightly together. Our shadows danced, intertwined,
water bottles swinging at our sides.
The swans sliced through the water,
tracing it with their midnight beaks, echoes
of the skyscrapers reflected in the mirror of sunlight.
Her father gave us mints, colors held gently in his worn, scarred hand.
Bright white, green, and red.

It matched her scarlet dress, and she told me it was her fourth favorite color.
I asked what her first was.
All of them, she laughed.

Me too.

She grabbed my hand and we ran
to the swings swaying in the soft wind and the monkey bars creaking from the weight of the sky.
The grass parted to let us through as we chased the wind,
broken leaves and daisies scattered around cracks in the concrete.
The leaves twisted, dancing their way to us. We chased them, caught them in our hands, and watched them

float away

on the lake, sinking, surrounded by the murky water. Her eyes followed them,
until she
couldn’t
anymore.

We stayed until our shadows blended into the milky twilight
and the secrets etched into the soles of our converse
faded away.

I am your purring cat cuddled up on your lap.
I wonder if you can fit any more love in your heart because it’s already overflowing.

I hear your warm loving voice telling me everything’s okay.
I see your arms wrapped around me with care and compassion.
I want you to know your fish and rice are the best.
I am your purring cat cuddled up on your lap.

I pretend to say you don’t love me but that’s all in my head.
I feel you petting my fur softly.
I touch your face knowing you truly and always will love me.
I worry I will let you down like a rock falling off a cliff.
I cry when you are away because I never know when you will be back.
I am your purring cat cuddled up on your lap.

I understand when you are gloomy like a cricket when I eat it.
I say prrrrrr when you are close to me.
I dream you will never let me go.
I try to make your life good, like when I see catnip.
I hope you will always be happy when I am around.
I am your purring cat cuddled up on your lap.

Why not SLAM the door you’re not allowed to close?
Why not eat a pickle when it’s past your bedtime?
Why not catch a butterfly with a fishing pole?
Why not hide from school until summer starts?
Why not disobey your mom and dad again and again?
Why not do what you want instead of cleaning your room?
Why not be yourself instead of what they want you to be?

The GraveYard
A place like a thousand sorrows
The GraveYard
A place to remember the Good times
The graves yelling out to you
Telling you to get over the bad times
The GraveYard
Where you go to think
The GraveYard
The place you can be
To remember the ones who came before you
The GraveYard
The one place you can go to let your
Feelings flow through you
Like a boat soaring through the sea
The GraveYard
The place of sad memories and sorrow
A place of the dead
The place of all feelings
The only place that gets you wondering
When will I be here in the ground with all
My memories and ancestors
With my loved ones
The ones I was meant to be with all my life
When will I be in this place of sadness
And when will I be here
When will I be here in this place where all feelings matter
When can I meet all the relatives I have not met
When will I ever be happy again

Leaves falling to the green earth
Fires lighting in fireplaces
Leaves crunching beneath my feet
Juicy grapefruit,
Watery in my mouth
Dead leaves on the earth ground

We just got back from a field trip
to Inner Space Caverns
This place is a cave
My favorite part was
mining for rocks
My least favorite part
was the cave

Peace feels like the soft hands
of my mother and a
warm slice of pumpkin pie on a
cold Thanksgiving Day
Peace looks like my loving family
Hugging me tight for a good night’s sleep
Peace tastes like fresh, warm cookies
Peace sounds like a warm fire
crackling fire
on a cold Christmas morning
Peace smells like a freshly baked slice of
cake my mother made for me on my birthday
Peace is relaxing silence with someone to love
This is Peace

The sun is bright, shining yellow against the deep blue sky. It sits. It hovers above air and land and sea,
ever present.
And so it shines.
Most days, the boy feels the rays penetrate his skin like the seeping of warm ocean waters –
wish-wash, wish-wash.
He feels the sun touch and seep, yet he is filled with no warmth.
And so he stands,
cold.
This coldness makes him wonder:
Am I okay? Is this normal?
And so he stands, wondering – pondering.
As time passes by, the rays increase in intensity, shaking him from head to toe. He looks at his arms – so brightly illuminated – and he watches as his dark hairs slowly grow tall.
It is as if he is a porcupine, preparing for attack. But there is no danger –
the sun shines brightly, a yellow yolk against the sapphire sky.
But he wouldn’t shiver, was there no danger.
He is cold. Not scared.
But maybe I should be, he thinks.
He is not.
The sun shines brightly.
On this day, the boy stands outside, and he realizes:
the sun does not move.
He stands there many an hour, imitating the stationary sun.
He wonders again. The sun sits high, right above his head.
Maybe that is the danger.
It wants to fall on my head, and burn me, he thinks.
But maybe this is no danger, because after all,
he is cold.
So now he sits, awaiting the actions of the sun.
The bright saffron star shines. Nothing happens.
The boy remains seated, still cold,
still waiting.
But waiting is tedious –
tiresome –
and so his eyes begin to droop.
The rays still shine, peeking through his half-shut lids.
Rebecca David
2nd period
9/25/2019
His head droops now –
he is asleep.
And so the boy sleeps, and the sun
does not.
He sleeps many an hour, body shivering,
sun burning.
The boy awakes. He looks around, at his body –
there are no burns. Only hairs, standing tall like summer grass. No rays, no warmth, no sun.
And so he shivers.
And shiver he will,
until one day the sun decides to move –
to fall –
again.