Category: 2021-22 Submissions

The blue turns to gray
Watch the green as it fades
The air we breath is cold and sharp
Feel the earth turn so dark.
Mother nature’s caving in.
There’s too much trash,
No one will win.
But it’s not time to just give in!
Together we must break this sin.
Turtles die because they choke,
Let it in, it’s not a joke!
The world is turning inside out
All we do is talk about
the planet that will slowly die
I think it’s time we start to try.
Talking ‘bout it, yes, is good.
But I believe together we could
change our habits, the way we live.
No one wins unless we give,
A little more than just big speeches
Something that all will believe in
Something that will make a mark
Taking action is a good start.

A small little space where the walls all close in
Silent but deadly
Far from heaven.
Where all life goes mad or dies or gets crippled
Up in the house of old man Knittle,
Deep down inside lays a place with no light
Where every little soul dies more each night.
Go if you dare but don’t expect to come back
Cause once you come in
There’ll be shivers up your back.

I fall down
Her words lift me up towards the moonlight
I see her face smiling, staring.
I lay awake pondering her presence
The placement she keeps in my heart is untouchable
A place that is truly immortal

How long have you been away
Was it real or was it fake
You’re in my thoughts
You’re in my dreams
I’m a puppet to your strings
Puppet master let me be sad
Let me grieve
Cause this hurts bad
I’m a fool to run away
Cause all I wanna do is stay
Stay away from all the pain
Cause god the pain drives me insane
Puppet master pull your strings
Make me different
Make me sing
I’m the new toy on the block
The one that’s gonna pick your lock
Into your heart where it is safe
Or at least, least safe to stay
Puppet master
Pull your strings
You decide when I can breath.

Time a savior
People they beg,
For more years
Months, weeks days hours
Minutes.
We count the minutes
They add up
To something special
A birthday, holiday, event but each minute,
Each come but never return.
Time the reaper
It takes lives
Time is there but the next minute
Is gone
We gasp for breath
For more minutes
For more time to enjoy what we have taken for granted
We run out of time
We race the clock
School, tests, jobs deadlines.
Times
Countless times I find myself out of
Minutes, begging to see what one more minute could have changed.

The simplicity of a pen
Is as vast as a blank page but as true as the meaning of a voice.
Words that are written can’t just be erased. The honesty and noblity a pen holds to it’s owner bring truth and light to any peice of writing.
War and Peace, Oliver Twist. Some of the greatest writings in the world all came from a pen.
The next time you pick up a pen admire it’s simplicity but honor it’s greatest meaning.
To create an open door that echos even the smallest of voices.
Some of the worlds future Oliver Twists’ could come from you pen.

The trees let their leaves fly,
Float,
Glide,
Soar,
And scatter across the grass like little paper birds
The trees are almost bare, covering the streets in their coat of leaves
The leaves show their true color, what’s underneath as they fly against the pale blue sky
They jump and spin across the street like little dancers
They hop and skip across the yards like little kids on a playground
The leaves, They pursue their dreams
They fly,
Everything is Red, Yellow, Brown, and Orange
All the costumes draped about ready to scare an unsuspecting sibling
Smiles plastered on friends as they laugh and giggle
They crunch crunch crunch on the leaves beneath
The shadow of an animal shakes the bush, scrounging around for food
The chilly air feels like relief to the hot summers, and we’re all hoping for a chilly haloween
Sweaters on everybody!
The leaves they fly along with everyone else,
Pumpkins lie around, ready to be made into jack o’ lanterns
Come to eat the most delicious treat, fresh apple pie!
The aroma overtakes, the taste is unimaginable,
The taste of fall,
Everyone knows it and they know it well
The tastes, smells, sights, and thoughts swirl in the breeze
And now it’s finally feeling like its…
Only a jump away
Waiting for the glorious moment when you realize it’s…
FALL

old russian authors and late nights at bookstores
listening to music while everything else is hushed
waiting underneath bus stops while it pours

reading thick books on tiny beach shores
drinking tea from cans, watching them being crushed
old russian authors and late nights at bookstores

eating candy apples and throwing out their cores
hair flying in the wind usually going unbrushed
waiting underneath bus stops while it pours

taking tests and always getting perfect scores
talking to pretty boys and cheeks getting flushed
old russian authors and late nights in bookstores

laughing so hard that we bump into doors
walking downtown in a big group while getting lushed
waiting underneath bus stops while it pours

Always in trouble for not doing our chores
living life maybe a little too rushed
old russian authors and late nights at bookstores
waiting underneath bus stops while it pours

to be one with the clouds
the clouds move past
around and around our atmosphere
telling us the time

i yearn to touch a cloud
reach up and let my fingertip caress the gentle giants

to be a part of nature’s most fleeting beauty
the delicate puff of clear hazy magnificence

is it warm or cool
soft or surprisingly coarse

the feeling of a pillow in the sky
right there in my hand

the memory of touch will keep the sensation
safe, right there on my fingertips

to touch a cloud
for a brief, astounding, moment
gently coating me with mist

the embrace of the transparent wonders engulfing me inside
so that i may become one with the clouds
floating carelessly around, blanketing the gentle
baby blue sky

Magical portals that transport you to
A Land of Stories
Once you’ve gone through
You can’t stop
You just keep going
Through all its twists and turns
Over its cliffs
All the way
To the end
Where you’ll come back
Back to reality
Back to life

Until you pick up a new one…