Isolated Wounds

The Great Wall of
So many accumulated bricks
Held together by the
Single Memory
That planted
a garden of weeds
Now overgrown
Left freely to
Take Over the neglected
Castle and all it’s walls
And all it’s grounds.
The knights that used
To visit have long
Turned away and
The ones who aren’t
Scared of the daunting
Appearance and attempt
To scale the thorny
Overgrown walls and
Traverse the infested
Corridors
In hopes to break the spell
And uncover the
hidden princess
Leave with even more cuts
And bruises than if one
Had just left the foreboding
Palace alone.
All are kept out for the
Princess is the one who waters
The garden and fortifies
The walls with her own
Mistrust and Tears.


Clint Small MS

7th

Memory

Orange trees
painted white one-third
of the way up,
supposedly to keep the ants
and scorpions
from indulging.

I never believed that.

The smell of chlorine
punctured the air,
and the water evaporated within
seconds
of touching the pavement.

Running barefoot.
Black-bottom feet, impervious to the gravel
below.

We were always barefoot.

Peanut butter sandwiches
on potato bread washed
down by bitter iced tea
soaked up the heat.

There was no such thing as “sweet” tea.

Skin so tan,
almost the same shade
as the dirt;
hair so bleached,
almost as pale
as the sun’s glare.

We never used sunscreen.

An endless 12 foot deep pool
held ultimate diving contests
from the once-blue
diving board;

goggles and water wings never forgotten.

Laying on rafts with cupholders,
blankly gazing
into the everlasting
azure sky.
We made up stories as the temperature

rose to 112 degrees.

The heat makes the day
glide through honey;
roads release
apparitions and cars


Bowie HS

11

Future Me

A Single drop of sunlight falls
Wind blows in my gray hair
Darkness fades and I’m overwhelmed with free life
People open their windows

Children play in the streets
I step in the grass
I know it’s over now
I can feel it in my bones.

I remember when I was a little girl
Sweet and innocent
Faced with the deep, dark world
Of shut doors, closed windows, and no children outside.

I was little but strong
I had all the power to change the world
So I did
Darkness is dead
Sunlight is born
Because we did it.


Ann Richards School

8

Night-Cat

As the Night-cat’s wings spread,
My feet heavy as lead,
The Night-cat whispers to the Moon-dog,
A tree crumbles into a rotten log,
The Night-cat’s eyes begin to glow,
Then her eyes stare at me with great sorrow,
I back away as she crosses a moon-lit petal,
Suddenly my legs turn to metal,
The Night-cat moaned a tear-jerking cry,
As the silver pond lilies started to die,
She then flew to me in a longing way,
And in a soothing, creamy, soft voice she began to say,
“We live among blossoms in bloom,
I am midnight and he is Moon,
you should not be here among the golden stars,
you should be down on Earth, with your murdering cars.
You are a people, many I can see.
You are sweet as cherry tea.
Leave now and you will see,
How beautiful life can be.”
I looked at her, and she looked at me,
They I saw the lifelong beauty,
meadows of green, and skies of blue,
It’s so amazing what one
Cat
Can
Do.


Lamar Middle School

6

Dark Static

Foggy eyes, grabbing at a
Lack of glass
Only dark fuzziness in front of her

A window coated in 3 years worth of dust and dirt,
A thin sheet of water descending in front of her face,
A screen of a spring door
speckled with dead fly legs

The shards of her glasses
Pressing
Into her palm, her eyes left
Naked

Withering weeds caressing her ankles
The enraged wind licking her bare shoulders
The faint smell of distant roadkill assaulting her nose

An empty black sky, clinging to her fingertips
Her hands pressing through
endless layers of black brick walls

She could hear coyotes calling
cubs nearby, yet
Nothing was seen.


James Bowie High School

12

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