Reflections

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I’m not posting art today. Instead, here’s a poem! I’m not that good at writing poems, and this one is way too fake-deep, but I’m working to become better.

My friends, I know,

Are the only ones I

Need.

 

Then, why do I

Always feel so

Lonely?

 

But at home, I have “friends”

Who can never

Leave.

 

And they’ll stay,

Guarding my

Insecurities.

 

The saddest thing

About all of this must

Be,

 

The only way to escape

Twisted

Reality

 

Is to hold “those friends”

Who mean the world to

Me.

 

Though, they are just

Reflections on a

Screen.

Hannah, 9th grade

 

 

sunrise, in the key of lonely

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I love when the sunrise isn’t just average

cotton candy pastels are a dime a dozen now

and Technicolor sunrise is a bit too bright for me

 

I much prefer:

pale and luminous light on the film of water

left clinging to the ground after a rain

when detached from the world, I can sit calmly

and watch the road slide smoothly by

like an oil slick or an opal,

shimmering with soft flame

 

And also when:

the sky goes muted with the coming sunrise

and the world tinges sepia and purple

like an ancient photograph

of an empty city

and the ghosts in my headphones

are too powerful to ignore

 

But I’ve forgotten

about the beauty of the silent sunrise

when the sun slips up red as poppies

flaring in the sky like someone painted

dragon fire on the horizon

 

And:

the full moon, sitting over my neighbor’s attic

self-assured and aloof

pinned onto the velvet night

far fairer than the sun, and far colder.

And sometimes it’s the crescent moon

like a baby’s cradle in the sky-river

Or no moon at all

no harmony to the sun’s melody

 

Finally, the morning star.

most like me, the same every day –

patiently waiting

for the celestial bus.

The Scariest Place in the World

light

Hi guys! Instead of art today, I have decided to submit in a poem I made about two years ago. Looking back on this, it seems a lot darker than anticipated…

Oh, somebody help me!
I’m in a scary room!
My tongue is slowly drying out,
I’m now facing my doom.

I stare into the bright lights,
As they continue to blind me.
Then things couldn’t get any worse,
A person walks behind me.

They are equipped with sharp tools,
And a scary mask too!
The person gets their big drill,
I don’t know what to do.

They do their special work on me,
I don’t know how it helps!
The horrible taste in my mouth,
It makes me want to yelp.

This is the worst place ever!
The worst place on my list.
I never want to go there again,
The place known as the dentist.

 

Umbrellas in the Rain

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It’s always raining.

Every time I look out the window it is raining.

But I see that people still go out in the perpetual storm.

They all have umbrellas to keep them dry.

 

All different colors,

All different shapes,

And all different sizes.

But they all have umbrellas.

 

The skies are always gray,

Like someone blew a large breath of smoke into the stratosphere.

But I see that people still go out in the eternal grayness.

They all have umbrellas to block their views.

 

It’s cold but they wear jackets.

It’s dark but they use flashlights.

It’s disappointing but they still have a shred of hope.

It’s raining outside but we all have umbrellas.

Poem

poetic-pen

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everybody follows unspoken rules.

Science tries to give them a name-

Find a pattern,

Find a trend.

But humanity cannot name them in the end.

 

Why do we walk around like dolls?

Never getting out of the dollhouse…

Who controls you?

Who runs you life?

You do not know, but you always listen.

 

You paint by numbers,

But cannot see the colors.

I want to paint the prettiest picture.

Use all the shades,

All the tints and tones.

 

My wants leave me all alone.

Nobody sees my vision,

and nobody can help them learn.

 

Maybe it should all stop

Like cars at train tracks.

But we always play along.

But we never stop to think.

So the train hits you,

and you think the train was wrong.

 

Rory, 10th Grade

 

Poem

poetry

 

 

 

 

 

Nobody did anything to me;

still I feel as if I should flee.

Sometimes we all just want away;

never wanting to be here another day.

 

I always live my life out loud.

Normal is the only way- they say.

But what if I can’t?

 

My life has no home.

No way. No! I must roam.

I must go.

 

Take me out of the dollhouse.

Let me be my own brand-

I don’t want to be Barbie anymore.

 

Rory, 10th Grade