Category: Submissions

The smell of food, so good, so sweet
Golden Corral is where I eat
tastes as good as cake
I’ll gobble it up, like a snake
I touch my fork, so shiny, so smooth
The perfect mix, for me a youth
I taste some donuts, so great, so divine
Golden Corral is the place I dine
Eating there is a piece of cake
If you don’t eat it all, you’re food I’ll take
The rush of something, in a fountain I hear
A chocolate fountain begging me to come near
I see so much, so much food
Golden Corral’s the best place, I conclude
The table is soft the chairs are clouds
Golden corral attracts many crowds
I would not leave, I want to stay
Golden Corral I’ll stay all day.
Leaving here, I dread with sorrow
Is there a chance we could come back, Tomorrow?

 

Let me drop some sense in you about life.

Well, it’s pretty short and sometimes not right.

I guarantee you won’t smile every day.

 

“Friends.” What’s that?!

They smile to your face

Yet are quick to talk behind your back.

Man, what do you call that?

 

Who said life was easy?

Whoever caused you your pain

Aint worth crying for in vain!

Just get through and move on.

 

You cared for them!

Worried for them!

You want the best for them!

But think about it…Are they worth caring for?

 

What hurts me the most is I thought we

were “so close.”

I told my mom about you, but as soon as she

got to know you, she saw the real you!

I’m done playing the “forgive me” game.

I gave you so many chances.

You deserved not one!

 

You gave me all those “sorrys” and “please

forgive mes” and guess what?

My stupid self fell for it!

I was such a good friend to you,

And don’t you deny it

Cause all those times you begged for

forgiveness-I did.

You were never a good friend to me.

I knew it all along.

I just didn’t want to leave you.

You know you needed me-I kept you out of trouble.

Well at least I tried.

Of course there was a point I loved you.

A lot.

 

But now you can forget about it

You’re so gone.

I can’t remember
what was written on that
chipped chalk ceiling,
but it must have meant something,
because I couldn’t look away.

The fluorescent light wavered,
fading,
like it was grieving
something lost.

The scent of the aloe vera hand soap
repulsed me,
punctured me;
my knees giving out.

The rancid pink
of the aluminum stall
against sharpied text,
disturbingly vivid,
and so
forced.

I just wish I could remember,
what I said
and what I didn’t.

Light is the path to freedom
You see so much more than the sky
Freedom is more important than money

 

She was old-fashioned
in the most peculiar of ways.
She never saved a phone number, but instead memorized them all:
technology was unreliable.
She was the proud owner of a ’57 Chevy Bel Air, despite its having virtually no safety features,
save the seat belt she never bothered with,
and was perpetually in the habit of running red lights because she “hadn’t the time to sit idle when there’s so much left to be seen in the world”.

Sometimes it was infuriating,
but only in the way that curiously made me desire her
more.
She could tell me things about the past — things she shouldn’t know, without having been there.
And because of that very fact, I knew she would never decide to stay.
She already knew too much for one life to satiate her —

even the stars, in all their mystery and grandeur, were too still for such a

drifter.

 

My hair is on my head
It sometimes gets messed up in bed
I can put my hair in a bun
It helps not get in my way when I run
My bangs are long
It makes me see some things wrong
I have to comb my hair sometimes
It tends to bounce when I rhyme
I get called a girl a lot
Even though I am not
Sometimes it holds my sweat
But sometimes it makes me wet

 

I am bored in January
because there’s no fairy
I am bored in February
cause it’s just like January
I am bored in March
Because I don’t like arch
I am bored in April
Cause there’s no maple
I am bored in May
Because it never make my day
I am bored in June
Cause I don’t what’s a pune
I am bored in July
Because you can’t lie
I am bored in August
Cause it’s the foggiest
I am bored in September
Because my friend’s name’S not Timber
I am bored in October
Cause I don’t wanna roll over
I am bored in November
Because I don’t remember
I am bored in December
Cause there’s no cinder

 

Running free on the wind
Feet barely touching ground
Nothing keeping her down
Endless energy for an endless chase
Never stopping never slowing
Moving forwards never backwards
One day she starts to slow,
The ground she’s barely touched
Is now holding her back
Slowing her run to a stop pulling her to the ground,
Chains keeping her down.
Now for the first time she has no freedom.
Can no longer do as she wishes.
The simple gift she has always taken for granted is now gone.
Maybe as many days go by the chains will loosen allowing her to stand and maybe walk.
Perhaps one day she will have her freedom again,
Free to run with the wind again
Then maybe after that the chains will come again,
Stealing away her freedom.
Being careful when she is able to run again,
But on the ground chained hoping and waiting for her freedom .
Until then she waits.

Gorzycki Middle School

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