I have been waiting

For the day

And time

When I can escape

This hell on earth

This place

No one can call home

This place where

Witches write their evil spells

And demons dwell

You cannot begin to imagine

What has come and gone

In this house

What bittersweet love

Has had its last testimony here

What lullabye song

Has screeched its raging tongue

For all children to hear

With glasses breaking

In the public hall

For all the guests to see

Where alcohol and anger mix

In one parent’s greed

I live in this place

Where everybody knows

What goes on

In these suffocating halls

And suffering rooms

Where someone is

Always crying

And

Where witches write their evil spells

And demons dwell

Molly Mahoney

Drizzle

Drizzle

Pitter pat

Sweet raindrops

Tap

Tap

Tap

I dance

I spin and twirl

While the rain

Come tumbling down

Splash

Splash

It falls harder

Mating down my hair

Tight curls unwound

Swish

Swish

Swish

I sweep through puddles

Dreaming of more raindrops

The high wind pulls and tugs

Whistling in my ears

Howel

Howel

I pull the soaking coat close

While the rain comes down

Drizzle

Drizzle

Pitter pat

I guess we say goodbye

But I hope to see you again

Sometime

Molly Mahoney

“Cry”

It was five o’clock in the morning

Walkin’ down that street

All I could see was the stars and you

It was like a story

I had so often heard

So when you leaned towards me and kissed me

I wasn’t scared

It started out beautiful

Like every fairytale

From Cinderella to Snow White

I know you’d be there

To catch me when I fell

Oh and I fell

But you didn’t catch me that time no~

You let me slip through your arms

And I crashed into the ground

It was so beautiful

That it almost brought tears to my eyes

But I wouldn’t cry

Not in front of you

Never in front of you~

Do you ask yourself why?

Why did you let me go?

I’m coming back to you

I’ll never cry for you

‘Cause you not worth my tears~

I can’t cry for you

‘Cause you aren’t the one in my heart

I guess I just moved on

Danielle Stewart

The Stalker

Soft and fluffy, white as snow
The little dog stalks her pray
So quietly and stealthily
She thinks I do not know

The little dog stalks her pray
With a clumsy form of grace
She thinks I do not know
She is slowly approaching me from behind

With a clumsy form of grace
Her stalking slows, a rubber toy in her mouth
She thinks I do not know
She is behind me, ready to pounce

-Lauren Parker

Shoe
Someone once ate their shoe,
Nobody knew why or who,
Some say its legend, not true,
Believe it or not, up to you.

They said he was messing with fate
Because of the sole that he ate
It couldn't have tasted too great,
He must have had hate for the sole that he ate.

They said he punished forever,
By all means, even by weather,
He was faced with challenges and endeavors,
The punishment was only too clever.

An eternal life in Hell,
Made fun of at show and at tell,
In Heaven, but then he had fallen,
Hell became the Devil's new calling.

-By: Alexander Triassi

Snow
by Kellsey Evers

As long as there is snow
white flakes will show.

The cold can cause conflict for some
while others find comfort in it,

Snow is but a mask
which covers the green and warmth of summer.

Yet, who can deny the beauty of the season?
Who can say no to the bright white flakes?

Arguments – By Colleen Casey

“Don’t do that” Said the Koala to the Bear

He was returned with an innocent stare

“I didn’t think you’d care”

“Well, I do” the Koala said, matter of factly

“Why?” said the bear, quite moodily

“Because it annoys me!” Koala said, incredulously

“All bears chew with their mouth open”

For a while, Koala remained unspoken

Then

“They do, but not like you”

“Sure they do”

Sarcastically came Koala’s remark; “Who knew?”

Bear remarked “I’ll stop chewing with my mouth open if you do one thing for me”

“And that is?” Koala said with mocking glee

“Wipe yourself up, next time you pee.”

“You see you’re not very clean,

And I don’t want to be mean,

But you stink. And you must have good hygiene.”

Happiness

Written by Kenneth Nguyen

As long as there is a kid laughing and enjoying a lovely life

Watching the stars without any strife, there will be happiness

As long as there is a person who finds true love

Living life to its fullest, there will be happiness

As long as there is a family who cares and shares with unselfishness,

Concerned for one another, there will be happiness

What is happiness?

Happiness is the blind man saying he sees to his deaf dog

Victory



Victory is sweet
so unlike defeat

Move with fast feet
down the court to score

both teams want to win
but one has to lose, so

whether by dunks or shots
victory is a dimension of greatness


Matthew Strauss

Winter was not a pleasant time to walk in the streets of Sulschek. In fact, there was never a pleasant time to be walking in the streets of Sulschek, according to the CEO. Countless laws had been put in place restricting even the noble citizens from using unnecessary movement. Movement causes discovery. Discovery causes ideas. Ideas cause revolutions. The capital of the world didn’t get its reputation by letting people think whatever they wanted, after all.

But this did not stop Vasily Weitztov. He made his way hurriedly but silently through the red ruins of Old Moscow to the Inner City of Sulschek. At least, that’s where he thought he was heading. He couldn’t be certain, but the man he was following was wearing an almost flawless black suit. Nobody wore suits in Old Moscow. Nobody.

On an ordinary day, the suit in question would have been flawless. If you worked in the city, or if you worked at all for that matter, you were flawless. But this man’s suit was not flawless. It was torn, wrinkled, and stained, all because of a slight mistake in his actions. A great mistake, thought Vasily, a great one indeed.

Vasily, like everyone else in the world, only knew a life of poverty and darkness. But at least everyone else had friends. Vasily’s mother forced him into secretly studying Government and Politics of Modern Society, and no one wants to be friends with a businessman. Businessmen, after all, were the reason for poverty and darkness. Vasily suffered through life much more than anyone else on the planet. And that’s saying something.

Vasily’s father never wanted a wife, a child, or a family. He only did what he needed to do in order to survive. Vasily never knew who his father was, but his Mother, the gracious Guianna Weitztov, always knew. “Just like your Papa,” she would say, all too often. Vasily never understood why he was praised for being like his father. His father had ruined their lives. What was there to be grateful for?

And now Guianna was dead. She was the reason for Vasily’s illegal excursion. Guianna was, literally, Vasily’s life. Without his mother, there was no more life worth living. And so, with nothing more than a makeshift knife in hand, Vasily continued on through the poverty stricken alleyways of Old Moscow.

Whispers filled cold, dry air as the mysterious man walked past. Even louder were the whispers as Vasily passed. The man showed no signs of slowing. He briskly turned the corner and continued in the dark. He continued, that is, until a woman threw an empty bottle at Vasily’s face and screamed, “Traitor!” The alley went silent. There were no whispers, no footsteps; the only sounds heard were the painful shrieks of the wind. Vasily froze to find the nearly infallible man approaching him. His head was bowed, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

He raised his right hand and his head at the same time. As he did this, Vasily realized two things about the strange man he had followed. Poised in the man’s right hand was a gun. It was no ordinary gun, though, and Vasily recognized it immediately. It was the infamous Series I Softnose, the most powerful weapon of the age, and there was only one in the world.

But more than anything Vasily saw something odd about the man’s face. It was something beyond his complexion, his features, or his expression. Vasily recognized the man, not as the CEO, not as an assassin, but as someone all too familiar for Vasily to pass by. “He is just like me,” his last thoughts, as his father pulled the trigger for the second time that day.

Needless to say, Vasily never avenged his mother’s death. But at least he was safe with her.

Anonymous

Through the woods, camera in hand

Nature draws my lens open to show off its beauty

A babbling brook in the distance calls me forward

Take a stance, snap the frame

Nature draws my lens open to show off its beauty

A massive trunk split in half

Take a stance, snap the frame

Keep moving through the fresh fallen snow

Nature draws my lens open to show off its beauty

The setting sun glistening on the fresh crystal on the ground

Take a stance, snap the frame

Next, the light shines through the barren trees

Nature draws my lens open to show off its beauty

Hands cold and crisp, cringing in the wind

Take a stance, snap the frame

Through the woods, camera in hand

Amanda Webster

The Sun (pantoum)

It heats the world and gives creation life,

Without it only desolation would live,

There would be no time,

No time but night.

Without it only desolation would live

There would be nothing

No time but night

No sound, and no sight.

There would be nothing

Not even a motion

No sound, and no sight

All that would be is the darkness of night.

Not even a motion

Only the silence of calmness

All that would be is the darkness of night

It heats the world and gives creation life.

Matthew Peszynski

Baseball

Here’s the pitch
Swing and a miss
The crowd goes wild
The team heads for the dugout

Swing and a miss
The seasons over
The team heads for the dugout
Many tears are shed

The seasons over
Their chance is gone
Many tears are shed
Maybe next year

Their chance is gone
Their hope is lost
Maybe next year
Couldn’t come any sooner

Their hope is lost
But next year is here
Couldn’t come any sooner
Here’s the pitch


James Knox

A Man Sips Coffee by the Window
By: Sarah Voellinger

A man sips coffee by the window.

The café is busy and bustling,

With lethargic, weary, grumps.

The man burns his tongue but doesn’t move.

The café is busy and bustling,

The workers can’t hear the orders.

The man burns his tongue but doesn’t move.

No one notices his corner in the front.

The workers can’t hear the orders.

Rush hour ends, the café is sinister and eerie.

No one notices his corner in the front.

A man sips coffee by the window.

The war was almost over.
We could almost go home.
We all just kept on shooting,
With white smoke like foam.

We could almost go home.
I could smell my mom’s sweet pie.
With white smoke like foam.
Just I hoped I didn’t die.

I could smell my mom’s sweet pie.
Baking in her oven.
Just I hoped I didn’t die.
The war was almost over.


Andrew Schreiber

Homework is a Pain

This is when homework is a pain,
such as when there is a lot of it that day,
this such thing can be very annoying.

Huge assignments can drive students insane,
especially when a student just procrastinates,
this is when homework is a pain.

It is often that students start going
crazy when there is boring homework,
this such thing can be very annoying.

When teachers give assignments that are “not lame”
students will not be saying,
“this is when homework is a pain.”

This is when students start enjoying,
but when hard homework comes around
this such thing can be very annoying.

Dog lovers want play with a Great Dane,
when they are stuck doing homework they think,
this is when homework is a pain.

When students wish their homework was done,
This is when homework is a pain,
when it is stopping us from having fun.
This such this can be very annoying.


Anonymous

Child of the ebony tree
Who groans in hunger

Where is his mother?
She has been forsaken by the growth on her skull

Where is his father?
He died trying to provide food

Where are his brothers and sisters?
They are many and wealthy, but they don't care about him


Jennifer Bruno

Sickness

One morning you awake,

You are warm like freshly baked.

You lie there in your bed,

Being told it is only in your head.

You stay there all day,

Feeling like any minute you will wither away.

The doctor does the dance and song,

Then tells you there is nothing wrong.

Finally you’re back in bed,

“Could this really be in only my head?”

-Betsy Clark-

Masquerade

As beautiful pairs waltz past me
I hide behind a sequined mask
As I watch for a bandit read to flee
Nobody will look or even think to ask

I hide behind a sequined mask
Tropical colored silks swoosh and flair
Nobody will look or even think to ask
I am waiting for a mad man to dare

I hide behind a sequined mask
A delicate gloved hand I hold in my own
Nobody will look or think to ask
My cleverness will never be known

I hide behind a sequined mask
My lady and I are one of many lots
Nobody will look or even think to ask
I must find the man with a bow tie of dots

I hide behind a sequined mask
My spine prickles as I spot our suspect
Nobody will look or even think to ask
These beautiful couples from him I must protect

I hide behind a sequined mask
I squeeze my lady’s silky white hand twice gently
Nobody will look or even think to ask
Through her mask her eyes signal me no differently

I hide behind a sequined mask
We glide gracefully to the bandit’s side
Nobody will look or even think to ask
His henchmen call him a hero, bona fide

I hide behind a sequined mask
He reaches for his deadly knife
Nobody will look or even think to ask
He is prepared to extinguish a lovely life

I hide behind a sequined mask
Slyly, I slip in for a dance with his lady
Nobody will look or even think to ask
I waltz her away to safety

I hide behind a sequined mask
My eyes drift to our bandit
Nobody will look or even think to ask
I hope my lady can handle it

I hide behind a sequined mask
I see my lady romantically touch his cheek
Nobody will look or even think to ask
Neither of us has ever been meek

I hide behind a sequined mask
I watch her slip the silvery devil’s tool away
Nobody will look or even think to ask
In my heart, I cheer a hurray!

I hide behind a sequined mask
I slip her hands into mine
Nobody will look or even think to ask
As our eyes meet we share a sure sign

I hide behind a sequined mask
We are two spies, we will not lie
Nobody will look or even think to ask
We are true heroes, we won’t let you die


Becky Brumbaugh

Music
Music fills the soul
where words cannot be spoken.
Music fills the mind
when those cannot think.
The rhythm and the tone
the beat felt through my bones;
music takes my place
when things cannot be said.
Songs are sung,
and notes are played,
and tones are heard,
and keys are hit.
Music fills our hearts
with words: replaced.

Sam Scheible