Category: 2018-19 Submissions

I swallow the hard lump in my throat
The one that brings tears to my eyes
As if I’m stomaching poison
Maybe I am- in a way
You’re so toxic after all

When I cry you decide that you’ve won
The silent battle of who-hurt-who
As if my tears of frustration are a trophy
A white flag I’m waving
A symbol of your superiority

But no one wins a war
Soldiers are lost never to return home
So is trust
And love follows soon after
A relationship shattered by a game
A relentless need to conquer
You lead a crusade of pointless arguments
You argue your way to hell and false riches

Bathe yourself in my destruction
Lather yourself in my tears
You’ve hurt me- congratulations
You fought a war against a peaceful nation
You stripped it of its gold
Slaughtered the citizens
If only you knew that the true value of the nation resides within the richness of soil
Or maybe- it’s ability to grow back despite conquest

Tear down and destroy, dear conquerer
Until your feet are weary and your soldiers are dead and you cannot remember why you were fighting
Does it even matter?
You’ve won.
And once you’ve set the small peaceful nation into flames
You bask in your earnings
Plastic covered in gold paper
A facade of glory
You weep into your winnings
Mourning your own loss

The small nation thrives again
The soil is rich and deep and lively enough to survive such vicious attacks
I am reborn, stronger than ever
Maybe it’s because the deepness of my roots

Dear conquerer, you’re conquest of rudeness was fruitless
I am not something you can destroy
I will kill you with my kindness
Confuse you with my empathy
Terrify you with my softness
Destroy you with my tears

---

Anderson High School

12

I want nothing more than to be home
And when I am home I want nothing more but to leave.

What is home?
Is it my coffin, or the walls or the feeling I get when I’m inside my walls,
I want it to be none of these things
I wish it to be the pace of breathe I take when I am as close to satisfaction as anyone ever gets
And I do not enjoy it when it goes on for too long
When I leave home,
I wish the pace of my breaths to change
I wish for everything to go according to plan
But my plan is flawed and predictable
like the way the sun never forgets to set.
I do not want to exist sometimes,
And I wish not to do and only to die
Why must i even try?

But how will any pace of breath matter to anyone?
And why must it ?
Because someone said it does?
And someone said we need to leave a mark on the world so
I drew a twelve inch line with chalk on the pavement of my neighbors house,
Revolutionary!
I am those you are to read about in voluminous 3000 page novels,
And you the same.

I do not know why all the world’s a stage and I do not know why we are all to play a different part,
I want to play all the parts and I want to play none

I want to be the curtains that drag and unveil
I want to be the stage that supports all the footsteps

What is truth?
Is it always good ?
And sweet like soft ice-cream

I hate to scramble such a pretty ideology
But most truths I have heard
Are like glass on a metal board.

I wished the world to tell me it’s secrets at this slumber party
How unfortunate she did not appear,
“She had to go to the dentist, dear”
If she had come this day, she would share her truths,
How unfortunate she could not appear.

I do not know anything,
except I will go home tomorrow although I do not know what it even is.

---

Stony Point High School

11

I see the rain so innocent yet dangerous fall to the ground covering it in puddles soon to cover highways. Translucent and fragile. Lighting shooting across the sky lighting it up for a split second. The clouds gray and gloomy pouring rain like a girl with a broken heart. The lights flashing on and off until they finally give out and leave its host in the dark. The sound thumping windows crashing to the ground so small but so many. Like a raging war of tiny pixies. The sound of thunder makes the ground shake and the rain roar. The sound of windshield wipers sliding across the windshield and cars racing through the water making splashes as they go. A child’s cry when the thunder strike. For the fear in their hearts makes the child shed tears.
The lukewarm drops fall onto my skin somehow it is light as a feather but when the thunder roars the rain stings like the feeling of a small electrical shock. The feeling of hope and fear. Fear that the rain could never stop that eventually we will go back to the beginning…only water. Yet hope that plants will flourish and animals will no longer die of thirst. The fear that maybe this is mother nature’s punishment for us. The bitter salty taste of the rain like tears. The smell of wet grass and nature making me fall deep into the thought of my childhood. So dangerous yet so beautiful.

---

Ridgeview Middle School/ Round Rock Opportunity Center.

7

Me llamo Andres,
Soy de dos mil tres.
Yo soy de mis padres.
De mi familia y Rusia.
Soy yo.

Pero todos me hablan
Que tú, no eres tú.
Eres un “Piscis”
Un pez del agua.

Ellos me dicen
Qué me gusta y qué no.
Me dan mis talentos
Y mi negatividad.
Me dan mi personalidad.

Pero
¿por
qué?
¿Por
qué?

No consiguieron nada
Pues todo lo que hicieron
Fue perder su tiempo
Para tratar de darme
Mi personalidad,

¡Qué, no entienden!
¡Qué ya tengo una personalidad
Y no necesito de una nueva!

——————————
Bellow is a direct translation of the poem above, to English.

My name is Andre,
I am from two thousand and three.
I am, from my parents.
Of my family and Russia.
I am myself.

But everyone else says
You are, not you.
You are a “Pisces”
A fish from the water.

They decide for me
What i like and don’t.
They give me my talents.
And my negatives.
They give me my personality.

But why?
Why?

They didn’t get anything right.
All they did
Was waste their time
To try to give me
My personality,

What they don’t understand,
Is that i already have a personality.
And i don’t need a new one!

---

James Bowie High School

10

Fall is red and orange
It tastes like pumpkin pie
It sounds like peoples teeth hitting together
because it’s so cold outside
It smells like pies being baked in the oven
It looks like piles of leaves everywhere
I feel like I am a blanket because of all the warm things I am wearing
The warm air from the fireplace hits you as you’re reading your favorite book
A smile comes across your face as you and your family cuddle under one big fluffy blanket
You laugh with the weirdest grin as you win at the family game night on Friday
And that’s when you smile and say “it’s finally fall”

---

Pearson Ranch Middle School

6

Unknowing in the time of Eden born,
Were the hearts of men in starlight blazing,
As fused on the fourth day first, solar born,
Bursted lights of God ever creating.

Effigy of He who formed the cosmos,
Burns flaming now in midst of night so dark,
Spinning stories to provoke the Telos,
Steadfast aim to ignite their own bright spark.

In whose image is created virtue?
If bright gleaming is the thing created,
When His silent love still doesn’t urge you,
To form new morality belated,

In homily, I call to reader thee!
Rest not while by God’s light you may still see.

---

Austin High School

11

Stand on your toes, ballerina;
You are small.
A quick craft of cheap plastic,
You’re not much at all.

Sing a song, ballerina,
Just sing along.
This is not what you were made for;
You are not that strong.

Spin around, ballerina,
Before it all locks.
Enjoy the monotonous motions
Within your box.

Stand up tall, ballerina;
Show them your worth.
As the bones in your back break,
Pretend it doesn’t hurt.

Painted plastic,
Painted glass.
Oh, broken ballerina,
Will you last?
Does the song go on too long,
Or does it fade far too fast?

What thoughts go through your mind
As you dance?
Does the music soothe you,
In your little wooden box?
Buried deep beneath the dirt,
Does it rot?

---

Garza Independence High School

12

You have spent your entire life
Being hard on someone who can only be soft
In hopes that it will toughen them up.
How long will it take for you to notice that words can shatter not strengthen?
How long will it take you to notice that you are the only one in this world that is breaking me?
You have told me the ugliest things I have ever heard about myself yet you are supposed to be
the most loving.
Do not mistake your cruelty for kindness.
They do not go hand in hand.
I will not let you convince me other wise.
In my softness I have found power,
A strength much greater than cruelty.
To be jaded is to be weak.
Vulnerability is to be empowered.
I am like the rain, gentle, nourishing, but with the strength to shower, to flood, to drown.
My kindness is not a flaw, it’s a byproduct of understanding how cruel this world can be.
It is the result of knowing that the world doesn’t need any more ugliness.
My kindness is an act of nature, a force to be reckoned with.
It is my battle cry.
It is my lament.
It is my prayer for this world.
Kindness is not my weakness,
It is what makes me strong.

---

Anderson High School

12

We begin outside the big gym where we have all been,
where a girl with faded blonde hair grins.
She stands fairly tall with her ponytail high
“Let’s go stars, let’s go!” She cries.
This is the first year for her anyway,
just like the navy blue polo everyday
that she wears for the first time.
Now that she has no downtime.
Starting high school is never easy,
and the next four years seem anything but breezy.

Monday morning practice has passed
and now it’s game day and the possibilities are vast.
Waking up later and pulling her game clothes together,
just class practice today and a little nervous as ever.
Team lunch after English to build morale
followed by the preaching of geometric rationales.
The end of school follows without a bell
just waving goodbye, chorusing, “Au revoir mademoiselle!”
Volleyball clothes and nervous stomachs signal the start of a new game,
they walked out downtrodden with no one to blame.

Thursday is a new day
with new games to play.
Waking up early, to get to school before eight,
because no one will wait.
Warming up and practicing serves
to get her young team the recognition they deserve.
She jumps and blocks
the numerous points bring shock,
to the two teams that they crush, making them quiver
at the last two winning serves she delivers.

No recognition on Friday of their achievement,
leaves the freshman with some bereavement.
They go through classes to lose again,
cheer for the others, and walk out once more in rain.
Their tournament the next day goes quite the same,
no recognition postgame.
She leaves the game in disrepair
driving to change her hair.
She builds up her courage
in two ways and decides on a change.

Her hair is darker now and
she is ready to demand
that things take a revision,
to create a new vision.
Where teams aren’t looked down upon
and every team gets their time in the sun.
She takes this new ideal
into their next tournament with the utmost zeal.
So they begin
their coming games with thicker skin.

Four games later
the the tournament is theirs.
This is announced in assembly
and they have their small shining moment,
for a moment at least,
they feel at peace.
This is how they will face all of their opponents:
without trembly
and unawares,
but with determination to not be ignored anymore and to be recognized greater.

---

Ann Richards

12

Life goals is like climbing a mountain you will face obstacles
The mountain will be rough and jagged and you might
Cut your hand
Along the way but keep going keep trying to climb
That mountain

along the way you might have to face
A mountain lion
But don’t be frightened or discouraged

Because when you get to the top
Of the mountain boy is it
beautiful

---

Gorzycki

7