What Once Was

By Rico Colley

At the center of attention,
what once was.
It was living, now not even dead.
Long since gone from this earth,
cracking and dusty.
Resembling little of what we look like,
faded white colors like life and heat
just sucked out completely.
Holes for eyes like a black, never-ending abyss
they are hypnotizing.
Teeth are falling out,
but it still smiles, evilly.

Time

By Travis Chambers

When we are young the years edge by.
8 years slowly turns to 9
As if waiting for us to soak up everything we possibly can.
13 years rolls into 14 and soon 15.
Some say now is the time to plan your life.

As we start gaining knowledge
Time starts gaining speed.
28 years becomes 29 and before long 30.
The responsibility piles up on our shoulders,
Almost too much to bear but we get through it.
70 turns to 71 then becomes 72.
Our cup of experience overflows into our family and friends

If we are lucky we live even longer to
97 and then 98 and 99.
You have nearly lived for a century
And now Times slows down so you may enjoy your last days with your family.

The Truth

By Alex Grossman

What once was,
Is no more.
What is now,
Will not survive.

One must
Comprehend,
The truth in
Extinction.

And the
Fact, that
Things never
Last.

Memories survive,
But people,
Don’t last
Forever.

The Whistle Of The Wind

By Willy Lee

The sound of the wind passing through
The tree whistled like a ghost whispering in your ear
Sweet melodies trifled all who listened
Quiet and smooth
The melody tamed the dark night
Quick and splendid
The wind arrives then passes
Delightful peddles wipe and rub against the ground as it flows with the wind
The wind blew again and the whistle came
You could hear the thumping of your own heartbeat
You listen closely as the wind was now making almost a symphony
A feeling of love rushes in and engulfs you
The winds stopped
You wait for it to come once again
The stillness continued
You then realize the wind would not return

Obsession

By Jordan Vasquez

All through life everyone looks for greatness
But some don’t realize life isn’t perfect,
When the humans who try to be the
Hero ends up being the villain.
For some strange reason they don’t understand
If you go through life with just one goal
You will never reach this point
Without seeing yourself
Change in numerous
Ways.
The “perfect person” that you’ve seen in your sleep
Is just a figment in the eyes of a regular.
Through this you
You were
Fake. THIS IS AN OBSESSION.

What is Fire?

By Travis Chambers

What is Fire?
Is it the determination
In someone’s eyes to do something great?
Is it destruction, killing many
In its ruthless rampage?

What about light and heat making life possible?
What is Fire truly?
Is it good or is evil?
Perhaps Both?

30 Seconds

By Taylor Mullin

Sitting, slouching,
Fingers drumming,
Twitching, humming.

Clock is ticking,
Me watching,
The teacher’s talking,
Am I listening sort-of,
But her voice is more like
White noise at this point,
No longer meaningful,
Sound.

Tick, tock,
Tick
Tock.
The seconds seem to grow
Slower.

Twitching , anxious
So ready to run,
Hungry for freedom,
If only the bell would
Ring.

Fight Night

By Jordan Vasquez

Right left that’s my main strategy the second coming of nothing it’s only gonna be me.
The red padding is still damp from the sweat I have endured through this fight.
I have no idea if it’s the blood or if it’s the natural color, all I know is that I’m number two to no man!
He talks game I show it hardcore, 10 seconds in the match he’s already on the floor.
His cheats wont work on me I’ve already finished the game.
Going into this would be like going in a gunfight with a knife to kill you I’ll cut you so fast when your guts spill out you are still blue.
Once I hear the number 10 I bask and rejoice in the fame and light.
You cant win against me it’s just a fact.
You talk but its just white noise nobody will hear.
Once the bell rings you already beg for mercy, but if you stand tall maybe I’ll go easy.
I wont fall down, when the lights go out I will stay to my word.
I wont give up that’s a promise; I will be standing straight up and strong even if it kills me.

The Edge

By John Strong

The wind raged down the side of the mountain
It carried me within it.
My once rigged turns
Melted together into
A growing sensation of control.
My peace shatters
With one wrong move.
Knowing the mistake at once
I tried to correct my mistake.
My surroundings slowed.
I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
The blur of snow and
Wind engulfed my entire body.
As I plummeted into
The powder

Look Ahead

By Alex Grossman

I made a
Giant mistake,
One that altered and
Ruined my life forever.
Do not regret.

I hear a reverberating
Voice, questioning me
In my sleep.
It whispers
Do not regret.

I want to
Change things because
I don’t like what
Has happened to me
Do not regret

I block the ominous voice
But it fractures my mental barrier
Tells me
Do not regret

I don’t understand
Hate
Sadness
Mistake
Failure

Do not regret
Ever
Change the future
Not the past
Because the

Future is what is ahead
The past is
Only a fragment
Hidden away
In historic memories

Do not regret
Only look ahead

To Dream

By John Strong

Flying down an abandon road
The hero of a small village
Racing through a thick jungle
Saving a boat from attacking pirates
Hang gliding off the edge of Mount Kilimanjaro
Base-jumping off the Swiss Alps
One night
One dreams
Lifetime of adventure
The power of the mind
The power to imagine
The power to dream

Thrill

By Myles Jeffery

Whether you’re flying
Down a mountain
Or carving through
The wave
Or rising from
The top of the halfpipe,
You’re always receiving adventure.

Professionals execute these
Sports to earn this addictive
Drug.

All drugs come with
A price.

Excitement always has
risk of injury or death.

Experts go as
Close as they can
To the edge
To get the second lasting
Moment of thrill.

Time Flys By

By Connie Tang

Time flys by
when you don’t even realize.

Sometimes it seems
if time is slowing down
or speeding up,
but the truth is
time flys by.

It may already be
your graduation,
but it feels as if
you became a seventh grader yesterday.
Or you feel like the school days
are slow as ever and then
it’s already the end of the year,
but time flys by no matter
if you don’t want it to end.

So, charish all the special moments
you have with your friends and family
because all you will ever have are the memories.

Time flys by
and will never stop.
It doesn’t care how special the moment
or who you are,
but that’s how time is in reality.

The Truth of the Eyes

By Rico Colley

The helpless, happy friend sits still and quiet on the mountaintop,
he listens to the nature and peace around him and puts it all together with his imagination.
He does not see with his eyes, but with his mind.
He sits there in a meditative state when a bird chirps,
a long grin stretches across the friend’s face and although his eyes are closed,
he reaches out to the bird’s exact spot and gently strokes his soft head.
The friend begins falling asleep,
he has reached complete peace.
While he sleeps, he tosses and turns restlessly with a worried look on his face.
His dreams are invaded by demonic creatures cackling and biting at his soul.
He hops up and opens his eyes for the very first and is nearly blinded by the sun.
Fields of oilrigs and factories spitting disgusting, gray smoke into the sky.
Shiny, metal boxes on four wheels speeding along roads,
spitting the same smoke into the air.
Beautiful, green trees being cut down by fat pigs in suits,
being replaced with huge business buildings and large malls.
The friend looks at the real world in terror.
The dirt under him begins shaking and he hears what sounds like continuous chopping.
He looks up to see a group of large machines in the sky.
Little sparks of lights like little stars and loud bangs come from under the machines.
It makes holes in the building around him.
Suddenly he notices little creatures running out of the buildings panicking.
He looks to see what people look like, but all of their eyes are closed tight.
In fact, they have no eyes.
And without the truth of the eyes,
we are all blind.

Spring Time Showers

By Willy Lee

Dropping water
Drip Drop Drip Drop
Slimy creature start to snake out of the ground
People run out into the classes
Young girls screaming at the slimy things
The clouds were dark and gray
Slowly a scar of light starts to crack through the sky
The people look in awe
The rain has diminished
A rainbow full of bright shimmering colors appeared
It was spring

See You Later

By Connie Tang

I walk past her casket,
tears pouring down my face
as if it would never stop.
I can feel the coldness of her body
traveling down my spine.

Seeing her pale, white face,
knowing that I won’t see her beautiful smile again,
breaks my heart.

Never knowing if I will hear her sweet voice again,
breaks my heart.

For all I know she is happy,
where ever she may be
and she will want me to be too.
But a piece of my heart is longing
to be with her.

I know she will want me
to live my life without her,
but it hurts me every time
I see pictures of her or hear her name.

I dream about the day where
I will meet up with her.
May it be 20 or 40 years more,
may it even be less.

Trying not to catch another glimpse
of her cold, pale face,
I whisper,
“See you later, Stephanie.”
For I know I it will not be
the last time I see my cousin.

But the day
we meet again,
she will be there with open arms and a
“Hello!”

Early Bird

By Myles Jeffery

The early bird squawks at me,
Chirps at me,
Cries at me,
Does anything to wake me.

And when he does,
I glare out the window,
Searching for the
Suspect.

He is nowhere in sight, so I
Release my still-sleeping muscles
And drop into the depths of
My pillow.

Long swords of sunshine
Pierce through the glass,
And I give up hope
Of falling asleep again.

The early bird crows in merriment,
And flies away to rouse
Another victim.

Pets

By Kevin Walker

Pets…what are they for,
To keep us company,
To have someone to talk to?
Pets…keep us sane,
in the times that we are least,
sane.
Pets bring us a lot,
But what do we give in return?
Food, shelter, love?
Do we give…
a lot,
or a little?

Easter

By Averi Westerman

The wide lawn feels like it goes on for miles,
Bright green blades of grass separate for each egg,
My hand goes down to grab the egg,
The silkiness of the plastic slides over the tips of my fingers.
I bring the egg close to my ear, and shake it gently.
I hear a rattling sound in the middle of the egg
The sound of the candy tickles my eardrums
My taste buds tingle.
I can already imagine the peanut butter interior
Looking up and down, side to side my eye catches a glimpse of a sparkling golden -
Object glistening in the trees
My adrenalin races through my heart
I have found the golden egg
The Easter day party is very exciting,
Filled with hula hooping
Potato races
Golf ball hitting
And a variety of candies just waiting to be eaten
The rose garden smells like a rich perfume
When this experience is over I can’t wait until next year.

Reflecting

By Eva Hitchcock

He leaps from the brown car,
his thick black fur
shining in
the summer sun.
A blur rushes by
as his eyes meet the
indigo river rushing by.
As his first paw meets
the icy water,
a burst of happiness
meets his face.
He runs through the clear
river splashing water
on me until
he is too tired to move.
He lays down
in the water to rest
sending a small wave
across the sand.
I look at his reflection
in the river.
I see the first day my
parents brought him home
in a little cardboard box,
a red ribbon tied
around his neck.
I remember a bundle
of destruction rushing to and fro,
leaving disorder
in a trail behind him.
I think of the day
when he disided that to be
a good dog, he didn't
have to go to training school.
He gets up slowly
and comes torward me
and as if to reasure me, he gives
me a gentle lick on the
palm of my hand.
I smile and hug his neck.

Hero

By Maddy Price

The day he crashed,
the day he fell,
his whole heart broke,
and I understand why.

A hard think for him,
his family,
his daughters,
to understand,
to help him, to be strong for him,
it can all be tough.

But the man is strong and never cries,
except the time we came to the hospital,
where a small tear came out of his left eye.

I saw his leg, and could not hold it together,
and so I wept,
I cried a river,
for him,
who I thought could never run again,
could never play basketball in the backyard,
never chase us around the pool,
and never take us motocross riding up in the hills.

Never again, I thought, would he be the same.

I was wrong and he showed me how,
over the hard year he recovered quickly,
to walk again,
to drive,
to swim,
but almost to run,
almost there,
just a couple more years.

He taught me how to recover,
how to be brave,
how to, when you’re stuck at the bottom, to get all the way back to the top again.
How in life you fail, but you will and can achieve greatness,
If you just believe.

One morning you wake up okay, the next you're changed.
But the spirit of life is luck,
and on that day you crashed you were lucky,
we were lucky.

Life is all about what you want to make it,
forget about the past,
and to not think about the future too much,
just focus on the now.

To live your life to the fullest is a lesson this man has became very good at,
living like there’s no tomorrow.

These lessons, these stories have made a family stronger, these valuable words should be able to make a world stronger.

Sky Wolves

By Taylor Mullin

I looked to the black
Tormented sky
Angry clouds churning
And no light to be seen.
Raw fear and anxiety
Twisting my stomach into knots.

A tornado, but i saw it not as what it was.
Not as a tornado, but as a
Ravenous pack of ash colored
Wolves.

I watched intently as they prowled the
Gray swollen clouds around them,
Shoulders hunched and heads low
The thick fur on their haunches standing on
End.

Viciously charging each other as they
Made their way across the sky, bearing
Dagger like fangs.
Horrid snarls tearing from their throats,
Causing the landscape to shutter.

Howls echoed over mountains, through the trees
Into my own ears
As the pack drew closer.

All the while my family and I
Sat helplessly and defenselessly in our car
As we sat on a busy freeway, attempting to
Flee from the pack.

Even from this distance, i
Could see their smoldering eyes of dim light
Move quickly as the dogs jerked their heads back and
Forth as they circled.

One snatched a farm in its jagged, yellowed fangs,
Uprooting it from the plot of land it once
Sat on and crushing it into a million splintering pieces
Of wood debris.

Such raw power, but not at all merciful.

I gasped, my chocolate brown eyes widening as
I watched the wolves begin to retreat back into the thick black
Clouds, shrinking
It seems,
Until the last dog leapt into hiding,
Its sleek charcoal tail whipping the bulging cloud, causing
That cloud to burst,
And abruptly filling the tired, overwhelmed sky, with icy
Droplets of
Rain.

Summer

By Malia Bates

The warm sunlight beaming down on my cheeks,
The tall green palm trees swaying back and forth
My hair swishing in the mild breeze.
Tiny ripples appear in the crisp ocean water,
A clear alluring sky, a perfect day
Summer was here.

Homework

By Sonya Bengali

Homework
I hate homework,
homework hates me,
we’re one big happy family.
Oh, how we grumble,
oh, how we groan,
when I see homework,
and homework sees me.

The pen comes closer,
and homework yelps for it’s life.
The pen comes closer,
and I get up for a snack.

How nearing my room,
my desk, my homework folder,
thinking once again of other things to do.
But alas there are none,
only homework is to be done.

I thunk in my chair,
snatch up a pen,
grab my homework,
slam it on the desk,
and write as hard as my hand can press.

Angry mutter escape from my mouth,
as my pen tears holes in the paper,
ink forever staining the wood.

Torn and wrinkled and ripped,
from angry fists of hand,
thinking to itself, why me?

Absence

By Jackie Fancher

Blind Ballerinas
Dancing for a faceless crowd
Twirling Endlessly
Without Applause

Violent Violinist
Strumming for a thankless audience
Playing furiously and hopelessly
Without a conductor

Charming Clown
Joking for aged children
Smiling tensely
Without makeup

Before the Gun

By Sonya Bengali

Faces stared down at me
like an angry teacher on
a misbehaved student.

Heat after heat zoomed
from the start like racehorses.
Big, talented, intimidating;
purebreds made to run.
A mix breed is no contender,
who balks at the start gate.

All is hushed except
the sound of heavy breathing;
determined faces of others
who have only one goal.

Their eyes narrow as they
focus long and hard at the finish.
The started speaks his final words,
and all goes quiet.

My violent thundering heart
pounds at a quick pace,
making the seconds seem forever,
in anticipation to the startling boom.

Colors

By Efe Sarinalbant

If I had the chance
To witness something majestic
Another color from the palette will be added to my background
But not to much,
Can the human eye see
Only beyond a valley of thorns
Will the it will reach its’ intended purpose
A Purple Heart, Golden Trophy, or Medal
Are only a few of the many colors
You can choose,
To color the background of your portrait.
But what lies inside your heart
Is what’s most important.

The Old Man's Meaning

By Maddy Price

Dew slowly drips off of the sun kissed cherry tomatoes,
rooster crows,
old man sighs,
because he knows its another day.

Another day of work, another day to live.

His horses, cows, pigs, sheep all remind him of why he is still here.
To see the wonderful meadows, mountains, seas,
breath in the fresh air in one day at a time,
not knowing what’s coming next just living,
working,
farming.

“To live is a beautiful thing” he says to himself,
but the question burning inside his crippled heart,
why don’t we know the meaning though?

Living

By Eva Hitchcock

The wind blows
a soft spray
of saltwater onto my
face. The ocean sings
a quiet song. Waves crash
against old rocks
the stories of ages of life
carved and scraped
into their
orange, rusty surfaces.
The water, peacock blue
wispers ageless wisdom
into my ear telling of
when dinosours roamed
the earth, and of other
mysterious creatures who
leaped over the waves
from the water
below,
yet keeping the secret
of human life to
itself as if to brag about
its knowledge of this
missing part
of earth's
jigsaw puzzle. I barry my
foot into the sand,
wondering what
had crawled on this land
before me. Perhaps the shell
of an innocent crab, or a small
turtle who had climbed aboard
the currents
to reach another part
of our planet. And all this
life, on one, unprotected
beach.

The Skull

By Colin Johnson

Those pupils had exchanged a glance with me before,
I knew it for a fact.
Those teeth have spoken to me before,
and it was clear to me now.
The cream colored skull was a friend of mine,
In which followed me wherever I went.
Through the forest, on a bike, hiking up a mountain,
he was mysterious.
At night his eyes crept out of his mouth,
His teeth hopped out of his eye sockets,
And he turned into something I could never imagine.

What It Was

By Efe Sarinalbant

What it was
I thought about what it was
It is not important to me
What I thought it was
Now that, is another story.

Although some might say
I could be wrong
Others would beg to differ.
But I would insist
That they should not
It is not worth their time.

I find myself at times debating,
Whether I should have
Or should have not
Thought what it was
Or what it was not.

California Screamin

by Malia Bates

California Screamin’
With the golden sun beaming in m eyes,
A gentle breeze sweeps by my face.
Waiting for the ride to begin, my heart began beating rapidly
5….
4….
3…
2…
1…

We shot off like a rocket soaring through the sky,
Whipping around curves,
Making sharp turns feeling as if I was going to fly out.

The final trek to the top slowing down,
Swoosh it dropped us to the bottom, twisting and twirling through loops.

The pace of my heart back to normal,
We were at the loading dock.

Cookies

By Averi Westerman

Walking by a warm room,
My nose catches the luscious scent;
Of freshly burnt sugar and chocolate drifting in the room.
As I was drawn over to the oven,
My eyes fixed on a plate of fresh baked circles of chocolatley joy.
The mouth-watering sensation of the amazing object begins.
The taste goes right past the edge of my lips,
My hand is uncontrollable,
I grab a cookie,
Take a bite,
And my teeth sink right into its soft,
Warm,
Chocolatley,
Sugary,
Interior.
Possibly the best cookie ever made.
Finished with my first the feeling is over.
Another temptation is centimeters away from my mouth.

The Day of Dry Tears

By Colin Johnson


I wiped the dust,
but the window still did not clear.
Splatters of dry tears exploded on the brown sill.
The clouds began to screech,
the stained glass shattered.
Blood started to appear in forms of stars,
escaping down my pale cheek.
The glass became frustrated,
and it glared back at me in hate.
Black figures slithered into the reflection,
the mirror told no lies.
My eyeballs crept towards the new world,
Red flames exploded, and the wait was over.

The Bag

By Kevin Walker

The bag, brown as a beaver’s coat,
What wonders does it old inside?
Money, the secret of life?
Open the bag and let it unveil,
What is inside…?
A skull?
A skull could stand for anything,
life, death, reincarnation.
No…
To me a skull…
Is a way of remembrance…and to think,
All this time, remembrance,
Was on the inside…
Of a brown, paper, bag.

Twisted

By Jackie Fancher

A stitched up mind
And a pocket full of discreet images
At a boutique villa
This is enough

Gnarled Ice
Pieces floating in air
A poor man’s snow
He still gets wet

Caved in memories
Eroded feelings of joy
Evaporating words of wisdom
We wonder why we are still our size