Category: permission

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Little Potions

Little bottles on the shelf
Sitting still and silent
Little potions I made myself
Always causing excitement
Glass holds the liquids in
Corks cover the tops
Sometimes there’s a lid
They won’t spill when they drop
Big and small
Tall and short
Lined up against a wall
Some hold a quart
While some have none at all
Glitter and sparkles
My gems and jewels
Their powers beyond compare
No one touches these, never do they dare
These bottles hold more the potions
They contain hexes, curses, and more
They can set anything into motion
See, these bottles hold secrets
Those ones thought to be lore
No key can open the cabinet
Nothing can bust it open
Unless the requirements have been met
And you have been chosen
Magic is a practice
There are many ways
Some types are the better to help us
But some can set you ablaze
Potions are quite easy
Depending on your rules
Reading spell books can make you queasy
Some are too old school
Little bottles on the shelf
Sitting still and silent
Little potions I made myself
Always causing excitement

Society’s Outcast

Red clashed with yellow.
Blue clashed with white.

Clouds
unfinished
thoughts of white and grey
floated across
the sky
like a herd
of castaways.

Trees of all races
stood exhausted
in their kingdoms
of grass.

Leaves of all ethnicities
scattered
to the ground.

Grey staled the pale
aged concrete
placed without meaning
carelessly.

A rainbow of wrappers
flee’d their bonds of death
clinging to the freedom
of nature.

The light breath
of a warm winter
strained against
the arms of the trees.

And there
opposed to social norms
scattered the inhabitants
of higher standing.

Colors only matched in the eyes
of complexity.

Movements could never be
understood
by the simplicity of nature.

Yet everything seemed connected.

Where do I fit in?

Bowie High School

11

Raindrops Adventure

I am a raindrop wild
Sitting in a pond so mild
It’s boring here each day
With nothing to do, nothing to say
Some fellow raindrops got slurped up
By a flock of thirsty ducks
I wouldn’t want to meet that fate
Inside a duck does not sound great

But one day I started to rise
Slowly soaring to the skies
I began to break into droplets so small
You could barely see me at all
The other droplets broke up too
And floated with me in the blue
I asked the sun what this thing was
He replied as he usually does

“It’s called evaporation, Child,
But you aren’t still a raindrop wild
You’ve simply taken a new form
Why, Child, you’ve been reborn!
I’ve changed you into gas, you see
And a gas is what you shall be
Water vapor is your new name,
But that will not stay the same.”

Higher and higher I soared
I began to condense, I was no longer bored
We clumped together drop by drop
The cold air blew, we couldn’t stop
Squeezing tighter and tighter, packed within
Ominous, gray, battered by wind
I asked the sun, “What is this thing?”
When the sun answered he seemed to sing
“it’s called condensation, Child,
But you are still a raindrop wild
You’ve simply taken a new form
Why, Child, you’ve been reborn!
All the droplets clumped together
To bring a bit of weather.
A cloud is your new name,
But that will not stay the same.”
We grew so heavy, I started to drip
Pilp! Plop! We slid and we slipped
Beginning a sprinkle and ending a downpour
Lightning zip and thunder roar
Water falling from the sky
Crashing, splashing from the high
Oh! It was just so fun.
“I’ll tell you what it is, ” said the sun.
It’s called precipitation, Child,
But you are still a raindrop wild
You’ve simply taken a new

 

6

A Forgotten Home

We came to a stop,
the door opened
and a thick air filled the car
and creeped into my lungs.
I cough and sniffle,
dirt covers my face.
As we walk down the streets
of red, orange, blue and green houses,
mix matched tall and short, big and small
made of twig cement or bricks
Fruit stand, carts selling make-up
tacos and aguas frescas
line the block and barefooted children run everywhere
asking for food or money.
I can feel the warmth in every step I take
to get my grandma’s house.
I hear “bien” and “como estas,”
a language that

I am a raindrop wild
Sitting in a pond so mild
It’s boring here each day
With nothing to do, nothing to say
Some fellow raindrops got slurped up
By a flock of thirsty ducks
I wouldn’t want to meet that fate
Inside a duck does not sound great

But one day I started to rise
Slowly soaring to the skies
I began to break into droplets so small
You could barely see me at all
The other droplets broke up too
And floated with me in the blue
I asked the sun what this thing was
He replied as he usually does

“It’s called evaporation, Child,
But you aren’t still a raindrop wild
You’ve simply taken a new form
Why, Child, you’ve been reborn!
I’ve changed you into gas, you see
And a gas is what you shall be
Water vapor is your new name,
But that will not stay the same.”

HIgher and higher I soared
I began to condense, I was no longer bored
We clumped together drop by drop
The cold air blew, we couldn’t stop
Squeezing tighter and tighter, packed within
Ominous, gray, battered by wind
I asked the sun

sounds foreign now
and I realize; I’ve missed this place, my home.

Fulmore Middle School

8

Ocean

Heaving,
salty liquid
chokes,
sand scraped
knees and
elbows.

You force breath,
burning eyes,
and land
on its unwavering form.

Once one with it,
sure to be there for the rest of eternity.
Cold, blue bloated body
lost among the fish and coral.

Lost concentration,
diverted by the cerulean tint,
unconscious of approaching waves.

Washing over you,
filling lungs,
uselessly fighting.
Flailing limbs,
limp after several moments.

Unaware how you got to shore,
hazzines encompases you.
It must have spit you out,
once the dark overcame you.

You know it to be merciless at times,
pushing the body and the mind,
forcing you to fight for whatever you’ve come to it for.

It’s allure transfixing,
morbid curiosity daring you to jump back in,
let the harsh waves provide the comfort you crave.

It’s a safe harbor,
and its cruel,
and you’ll never be able to drag
yourself away from it.