Category: 2017-18 Submissions

Walk across the aging bridge,
Over the stream of water,
Grass and stones tumbling over
The muddy soil.

Duck and dodge the mossy leaves
Hanging from the old tree,
Blending in to a pretty green,
Providing shade from the sun.

Watch the life above your sight,
Through the reflection,
Blocked off by the lily pads,
Stuck in the the glinting water.

Dip one toe,
See if it’s cold,
Just be bold!
Jump in the gentle waves.

Listen to the waves lap
Against the sides,
Linger in the water,
Underneath the bridge.

My memories are photographic
Never worded
Always seen
Containing glimpses of the past
coated in stardust and sunbeams

The cold and empty vessel still haunts me
not the belief that it scared me
but that I can still see it
Sunshine through the trees
on the baby beaches
Provide me with a photo of happiness
times never forgotten.

The photos I keep within are
who
I
Am

Sandy beaches
Hope
Stardust
Moonbeams
Fairy tales
Love
Family

They all stand vivid in my mind
never to share with anyone
except
you

I fill the air with colors
They smile wild and free
The world seems to shudder
At the thought of losing me

I am the rock to hold the ship to sea
A force too complex and ready
To color the world with melody
And keep the beat so steady

I am the way you say goodnight
Or how you wave hello
I am your mothers smile
Or a daisy doused in yellow

I can be forgotten
Tossed away and left
Or I can grow
And be kept and kept

I can speak the wind
Without a single sound
Yet I stretch all the world high
And back down into the ground

I surround the moon and stars
And love and laughter too
But the way I share myself
Is up to you

So, you, young boy or girl
Woman or man
Come roll around in the world so bright
And never truly understand

For when you realize who you are
Only then can you walk in your land

From coves of deep blue to blinding true light
This beach is now falling asleep
For the small girl will appear here tonight
And return to her cove, her home to keep
The sun will shine and the sky will be blue
Her heart will take flight and soar on the high
Salty winds that take her closer to you
When night falls she drifts off to a sweet land
Closes her eyes and smiles bright; for she knows
She will soon be on the beach with your hand
Holding hers and skipping, her face a rose
But now she sleeps under mother’s sweet face
And dreams and dreams and dreams of her true place.

---

The Liberal Arts and Science Academy

9

She doesn’t cry because she doesn’t like wasting time
on pointless pleas for sentiments never shared
sympathies stolen
and things never given.

She remembers bits of words and lots of letters
the soft and wrinkled edges of notebook paper
Gentle curves between the lines
anxious turning…
Check the time.

When she writes, her eyes go blind and somehow
she feels lost.
In a place that is entirely her own
to share and to hide
I don’t think she minds.

But when she stops and breathes out slowly
Bites her lips and turns the pencil she’s holding
with nails that gnaw into skin
I am terrified.

She promises not to cry but
Nobody’s listening
Everything wants a say
and all their little voices and little faces
Make her so afraid.

The waves that build inside her eyes
make me think she isn’t blind.
Instead she must want to be
away

lost at sea.

---

S. F. Austin High School

10

I’m watching you buckle and falter,
Giving in, weakly, to the voracity of flame.
Do you remember when I molded you,
How carefully I folded you?
Only to give, coldly, you who lacked blame,
To the sacrifice and pain of my altar.

If the game is creation, I am the defaulter,
I’ve burned what I built for the sake of my name.
But do you remember how I held you,
How gently I shelled you,
From a world more callous than tame?
An irony before cruelty, for you, my exalter—

For you, who still falter,
For you, who collapse under flame.
Do you remember how I called you?
Do you feel it now I scald you?
Say my name, say my name,
My exalter.

There are times
When the waves
Are made of anger.
They tear up the sea
With each crashing
Stroke and die down
Only when the storms
Of frustration leave.
Then they become
Calm and satisfied
And the waves
Can carry and support
The people who need them
But at any moment
They swell with joy
Or fall with rage
Or sway with sadness.
We have
An ocean
Inside us.

---

Fulmore

8th