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Allieat the age of one, allie martin
was diagnosed with leukemia.
by three, her parents were carrying around a hairless baby,
and dreading each x they marked the calendar with.
but this is not a cancer story,
because by the age of four, she was cured
and she doesn't know why,
but she doesn't concern herself with the why.
allie martin is the best cheerleader i know,
just because she seems so happy to be up there
trying to make everyone else happy.
see, when she was in the hospital, her parents said,
she was the happiest patient there.
"it's allie, and i am here."
if there is one thing i cannot say about allie,
it is that she is not glad to be here.
in fifth grade, her boyfriend gave her a giant hershey's kiss
and she split it with her friends and the people
who didn't get anything for valentine's day.
she has this long blonde hair that's always perfectly straight,
no matter what the fashion. i've never seen her with short hair
and i don't think i ever will.
DanielIf it wasn't for Daniel Calhoun
I would have gotten that part in the
Middle School Fall Play when I was
in eighth grade.
But Daniel's someone you forgive easily,
Just because he's Daniel and I've known the boy for nine years,
And anyway, Daniel kind of comes with a get-off free gene.
He also seems to have come with a blush-easily gene,
Because his face is tomato-red half the school day.
I guess that's okay too, because it's
Kind of funny.
Some find it annoying how he can't stop laughing at times,
But I can't help but find it hopeful- like his open,
Laughing mouth, squinty eyes and bright red blush
Paints a picture with the caption,
'Here is a kid who still wears his emotions on his sleeve-
Here is a kid who cannot stop laughing.'
In History class we read in Monotone the Constitution.
When it gets to Daniel, he clears his throat,
Puffs his chest and speaks in
Daniel is the typical private school guy.
He volunteers most weekends, has a well-off family, always says,
Caitlincaitlin musgrove is the definition
and prime example of the fact that
the very worst of things happen to the very best of people.
(warning: this is a cancer story.
this is a mother and daughter story.)
when caitlin grades quizzes, she writes a smiley face
on the top of the paper if you did well, or a
an even bigger smiley face if you didn't.
i didn't know caitlin's mom had cancer until
a couple of months ago
because caitlin's not only strong, but her damnation
might be the fact that she hides everything until she can't anymore.
but maybe that's also because she didn't want to tell me.
and that's understandable.
we're not best friends or anything (we're just good ones),
but she still tells me "just kidding" after every mean thing she says,
i still know i can tell her anything
and i know she'll try to understand and i know
that even if she can't, she'll still listen.
caitlin's mom died on saturday.
caitlin came to school on monday.
i once saw a boy threaten to punch another k
JeffreyJeffrey Williams is homophobic.
But I cannot hate him for his beliefs, like
He cannot hate me for mine,
Though I know there are some days we both want to.
But there's other reasons to hate the boy-
Hate him because once a long, long time ago
I thought I loved him.
But then we both grew up into
Real-world terms and opinions that were
Never made to fit.
So, some days I think I'm just making up for lost time.
There's this part of me that thinks he deserves
A 'Bad Poem'
Because he called me ugly all through sixth grade,
Insults my friends ("I'd like him, really Grace, I would,
But he's just so... gay.")
And expects himself to be all that's right in this world,
In my world.
See, I want to say that he whistles while he works like
The lost eighth dwarf in Snow White (which, for his height,
Is an accurate description) without mentioning
His sixty-seven community service hours.
Talk about how annoying his laugh is, without
Mentioning how often I hear it.
I cannot write him a 'Bad Poem' b
ChaseFor the third grade talent show,
Chase Tidwell dressed up as a cowboy
And preformed "YMCA" with an Indian,
Construction worker, cop, and a soldier.
In first grade, his biggest accomplishment
Was that his initials spelt out the word, "CAT",
And for the first couple of years I cannot remember a time
When I didn't have to tell my friends,
"Yes, our names rhyme. No, we're not soul mates."
He was also the first person in my grade
Who learned how to say, "Hello, my name is Chase," in Spanish.
Hola, me llamo Chase. Hola, me llamo Chase. Hola, me llamo Chase
Nine years have passed,
And not much has changed.
Chase became taller, his brain got bigger
And his eyes grew bluer.
He's still one of the best in Spanish, though now
We've moved on to more advanced vocabulary.
Chase is never really joking; he just says crazy, stupid things
Because he wants to remember how it felt to be careless.
He used to try a sport and stick with it "till the cows came home"
Now he has girls he drops every other
Laurynlauryn is the best example of the reason
i like writing about people.
because i have waited too long
and now i have forgotten—
because now i do not even remember
if i spelled her name right.
lauren? laurin? lauryn?
here's the three things i remember
about the girl in the back of my spanish class
who showed up late for video rehearsals,
but pronounced español like she'd been speaking it all her life
lauryn is the only person i can
remember asking me to write a poem for her.
the rest of them just sat back and thought
that eventually i would write a poem about them
that they could steal and read.
she is the only one who has ever
wondered if i had better things to write about than her.
her sleeping bag during one of the school bonding trips
was bright yellow with a spongebob face on it.
i would know, i shared a tent with her—she woke me
up in the middle of the night because she thought
she heard something out in the woods,
and "please grace, won't you go with me?"
SamanthaSamantha McCaleb ends almost every text
With a smiley face and if she keeps
Over-using it, I tell her, it will eventually
Lose meaning. She looks up from her phone, smiles and says,
She's a book lender, an emotion-eater,
And the kind of security blanket
That thinks it's ratty and tattered, but really is
The best protection from the words
That like to attack the back.
Samantha says it's stupid to expect instant fame,
And I guess it is, but I know it hurts when
She sings to her camera late at night,
Each note sounding like a hope she thinks she
Doesn't deserve. Her words are written from
The heart she tries to hide on the inside of her sleeve
Because she's slowly realizing it's less dangerous like that.
She wants to sing and she wants people to listen,
But I don't think she knows when to stop waiting.
Patience is a virtue some days I think she's missing.
But other days, I look and she has too much.
Samantha is too caught up in social politics
And "Does he like me? I
Audreydear girl i sit by in english
this is for you.
this is for you because you are
the dreamer of impossible dreams, and the
doer of improbable things.
this is for you, because
you balance on two legs when your life
is spinning out of control
and poetry will always confuse you.
you love fudge brownies like you love
every single guy you like.
for so long, the only thing i knew about you
was the fact that you liked reptiles in second grade.
this is for you, because
you walk around swim meets without pants
and brush your hair in the bathroom before lunch.
you're a mess of contradictions and the most
securest insecure person i have ever met.
this is for you because
i still feel guilty about the reptile thing and
you once begged me to use the line,
"you played fruit ninja with my heart" in a love poem.
this is for you because
you told me in third grade that
grace, everyone has the thing they're best at—
ady's the artist, you're the writer, mili's the smartest.
what am i? what's my niche?
Sydney MerrellThe first thing I ever noticed about Sydney
Was that her last name was branded on my no-laces shoe.
The second was that she was the first person my age to smile at me.
That was when we were five
And played pirate on the run down playground
Where a splinter was a death wound.
I can't make it. You'll have to go on without me.
When we were in first grade, she held a Barbie
Up to my nose, and told me,
"When I grow up, I'm going to be just like this."
Maybe I shouldn't have laughed.
I can't make it. You'll have to go on without me.
It was easier to go on without her than I originally thought.
Just ignore a few house calls, then a few texts,
Convince myself she just wanted to be
Just like me.
(If there is one thing I covet in this whole world
It is originality.)
But Sydney had never let things go easily-
Except maybe what made her a child.
By fifth grade, her walls were covered with girls modeling
And Gucci bags and five pairs of uggs lined her closet,
Stamping out the B
Paradise.My arms ache from digging through
rough and ruin, in search of
I saw it in a whispered dream,
there, nothing hurt;
we were unspoken.
With winter came warmth and summer snow,
And nothing died, just ceased to
walk with me
Please Don't Go"We put things in the ground to grow"
I sat at a park
with my cane at my side
along the frame
of my leg
when a girl
"Then why do we bury people?"
I shot a glance
towards my feet
at her bright ruby
tap your shoes three times and say
you want to go home
"so that they can grow."
I looked at her,
deep in thought.
"Why would they need to grow when they're dead?"
crinkled at the question
then I spoke
"a seed starts from the ground, but unlike that, that is where we end. We grow for our death to become real to others."
the girl smiled
and then grasped
for my hand
I am her grandfather
I am a ghost.
AbandonedI found love,
In other guys.
While you were preoccupied,
With your depression and sickness.
Mom was never around,
Because she was taking care of you.
You abandoned me.
You left me to fend for myself.
You left me fatherless.
I learned how to be alone.
I learned how to be independent.
I learned how to be fatherless.
You need to be persuaded.
You need to be put away.
You need to get better.
I've tried to persuade you.
I've tried to put you away.
I'm trying to help you get better.
You are so blind to the love you have.
To what you have abandoned.
That you are being selfish.
You cried when you couldn't be with us,
That first time.
I saw that you cared.
Now all I see is a grumpy,
I just hope one day,
You abandoned me.
But I'll never abandon you.
Living DeadI awake with worms crawling inside, dying from infection
My gut dug into, fractured ribs, missing some intestines
My jaw is broken, hanging open, I'm blind in both my eyes
Limbs locked by rigor mortis, a pitchfork sticks out my thigh
The only pain I feel is a constant aching hollow
Impulse to fill the void has me in search of ones to swallow
I hunger for the living... I've lost my grip on sanity
Cravings control this corpse to turn on crying family
I'm all regret and rot, they're blood and snot and tear bubbles
I wish I could resist... but the empty sickness doubles
I bite into the necks of the ones I once protected
Chew away their flesh and leave their pleas neglected
I can't escape the filth ingrained in skin; it stains my mind
I'm covered head to toe in wounds, bloody brains and grime
Cursed to feed again, no end until I've lost my head
The night is haunted by the marching genocidal dead
Will-O'-The-WispsThe wisps, the fiery lights that lead travelers astray
And if only they guide me to you
Show me the path, the destiny I choose
The wisps promise lies, but you do ... too
And my heart beats oh so heavily
The ghostly lights intrigue me
Would they guide me somewhere
Would they lead me somewhere
Hinkypunks, floating lights
Jack-o-lanterns, the beautiful lights
Myths and stories of the will-o'-the-wisp
But I just want them to guide me to you
Twenty OneAll my life has been a shuffe,
cut it now, let's make a deal.
For, my hands can't keep on playing,
to this end is all i feel.
What you have to keep ongoing?
Tel me stranger, times of last.
But, I'm suited man of business,
both our times you follow fast.
'Do you know about my story?'
Asked the soldier, breathing air.
Shady stranger with no answer,
'Better now, we'll play it fair'
First of all, the lose of loved one,
Times of that, I wasn't. Gone.
Lonely wounded walking stranger.
Ace of Hearts, I am alone.
Long before i fell for pardon,
Banner-figter, proudly chose.
Now, the ghosts of my ambition;
Diamond Ace, my thorning rose.
All this time, I was with someone.
Lady luck through all the way.
Living well to self-believing.
Ace of Clubs, she's not today.
But, I don't refuse the happened,
wouldn't showed If was my fear.
Lastly, stranger, hear me closely:
Asce of Spades, the death is here.
Hearts dislike love"You don't regret the things you did
But the things you didn't do,"
Or so they say but I disagree,
For there is much I would undo.
A thousand regrets I've had in love,
A thousand more in life.
A thousand wasted, crumpled pens,
Uncapped, abandoned flight.
If only butterflies would form cocoons
To snuggle in its depths,
So out may crawl a lovely worm,
Made of living, limping wax.
I think, you think, we think "What if?"
Until it sizzles through our flesh,
I think, you think, we think "Should have-"
Till our lies are all undressed.
A thousand mistakes I've longed to change,
With a click, a stop - rewind.
If only hands could touch the soul -
But wait, you have touched mine.
A thousand recycled, duct taped ribs,
To hold my trembling heart.
A thousand birds from me to you,
From you to me - an arc.
"You don't regret the things you did
But the things you didn't do."
A thousand regrets I've had in life,
But I will never regret you.
there must bei. i can only assume that you got one of the
seventy six letters i sent your way
and though my breaths are frost-bitten in
the cold of the night you came back
i am still shaken
i am still aching
is there a moment between then and now
where your might may have
caught some shame?
ii. i woke up in between this morning
and everything felt off
my letters were waiting on the kitchen
table; silent, raging yet so
subtly ignored by color
almost as if time had wanted to erase
the glide of my fingers that desperately
inscribed nothing more
than my lack of lucidity
is there justice in the curvature of your
bones, that once smothered my skin
with beaded scented sweat and tumult,
or has the hazard of your presence
washed away with my morning coffee?
iii. i am not the byproduct of salt-crusts
and humanity; you simply were
far too in love with the comforts of the sea
you're back, yes,
but this free fall inside my stomach that
flip flops (in all the bad ways at the
sound of hope - you - lea
Matthew M.Matthew Minor married Tim McGraw's daughter
When he was in preschool,
And only in Music City.
He's all sharp angles, curly hair,
And geography bowls he won in fourth grade.
He's holding onto things and letting her go,
Brought up on family politics and Southern beliefs.
Our second grade Spanish teacher
Filmed Matthew's laugh and put it on Youtube.
He's seventeen missed calls and
Gary, Indiana, Gary Indiana, Gary Indiana
My home sweet home.
Matthew got all the solos in elementary school
And loves songs and musicals no one else
Has ever heard.
He didn't really want Mrs. Fortner to video his laugh,
So for ten minutes of trying, all she got was silence.
Some things, he thinks, should be private.
Matthew Minor has heard all the puns possible
When it comes to his last name.
He won the Outstanding Citizen award at our school-
A tie with his ex-girlfriend, Lindsey.
His religion is like his lifeline.
Some part of me will always believe he is the boy
With highlighted eyebrows from lower sc
Keep in Touch!
^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More