Submitted by: K.A. (age 10)
Down in the garden, under the leaves
The chickens fly in the breeze.
Some with muffs, others with clean legs
Down in the garden which holds a sleigh
The Buff Orpington leads yet full of glee,
As they continue on their way
As they get to the garden with a stretch of the leg
They lay down by the sleigh,
They look inside on this fine spring day,
They find lots of water, as much as they may!
And, when the sun sets
They go inside to dream away,
And the next day they would go outside,
Yet again, to play.
Submitted by: Joan Testori
The mountains stood in the distance,
So far away,
Like the years that stood before me
As I stood on the shores of my future in my 20’s.
Yet with each decade that passed me by,
As I climbed the many hills in between,
I kept my eyes upon the horizon,
On the distant mountain range,
And it seemed that with every passing year
The mountains drew a little bit closer.
Now, as the sun sets behind these same mountain peaks,
I gaze once again at their beauty,
And the welcoming glow of the end of yet another beautiful day,
The mountains have drawn almost close enough to touch.
As I face each new decade now,
I still enjoy the mountains and all that they represent,
Yet the size of these mountains no longer strike the same fear
That nearly overwhelmed me
As my younger self.
Submitted by: Elayna Cardillo
As beautiful as an angel,
With the thorns of the devil
She gets picked at first glance.
The cries of her pain,
Being torn from her bush and brought away
Is all ignored,
Just to be given away.
All her effort growing from a seed
Is all in her mind of memories,
With her beauty starting to wilt away,
She loses hope and fades away.
As people say she is nothing more
Than a weed that grows from the ground,
She notices how far she came
And was pretty enough to get picked from the ground.
As she takes her final breath
A tear rolls to the ground,
She smiled and knew all roses are beautiful
No matter what people do.
Submitted by: Eliott McQuade
We usually like the feeling of sleep.
Something so calming in heavenly deep.
It's like swimming in open water bare.
Not thinking about what awaits to scare
Us out of our bones and out of our flesh
And out of our mind just waiting to press
Us between two slices of freshly made bread
The layers of fabric that you call a bed
I’m aware of these monsters so each night I take
It upon myself to instead stay awake.
Submitted by: Patricia Martin
It’s now the brilliant season
and so I imagine living a farmers market kind of life
one which so often eludes me
eyeing the perfection
of my new woven French market basket
found for a song at the thrift shop
I imagine drifting gracefully from booth to booth
hand picking perfect produce
for my evening table
I step outside and cut a bundle of peonies
this sunny June day
trying to decide between the white, pink, and burgundy purple
heavy headed they are
like ladies wearing layers of frilly petticoats
I decadently gather some of each
to arrange in the squat green metal vase
they look so lush and abundant
I go out and pick even more
to nestle in with my austere bamboo stalks
I feel satisfied at last
the heady scent filling my cottage
Shutting out the world
I need to shut out the world
and I am thinking
this is the way to do it
Itchy for more sunshine
I drive to the new sacred garden site
after the party is over
to meander in solitude
along the stone paths
among the raised annual gardens
as the Zen rock waterfall
minding its own business
not questioning my motives
or asking anything of me
Turning into a different maze
I face the labyrinth
intricate with stone and brick circular paths
some patterns seem vaguely Moroccan
others like man-made best attempts at industrialized nature
in shades of slate and faded terracotta
slowing my pace
slowing my breathe
I know I cannot hurry to the center that awaits me
with the simple stone bench
It’s about the trip not the destination as they say
listening to the chattering sunset birds
moving one step at a time
sequestered from the chaos of the outside world
cloistered from the hubbub
the exhausting useless energy
I find that prayer wells up easily
like another song chorus
I did not know I could sing
on this most brilliant day
Submitted by: Bethany Maccalous
I use this word all the time,
But what does it really mean?
I tell my Friends,
My community, that I’m Okay.
Yet in reality I’m not,
But who actually cares?
Who would respond differently,
If I say I’m not okay?
I guess it really only matters to me,
But even I lie to myself,
There is really no escape,
From the word Okay,
What does it really mean?
Submitted by: Bethany Maccalous
It’s all around us,
So why do we fear it?
After all the future isn’t set in stone,
There are too many variables.
Too many things that we can’t control.
So why don’t we embrace it?
Why fear it?
If we fear it,
Does that control our lives?
Life is about taking chances,
Hopping into the unknown.
So I’m making a decision,
I will not be scared of the unknown,
I will embrace it,
Like an old friend.
Now my life has begun,
Unto the next adventure,
The next challenge,
Onto the start of my life.
You should choose the same,
If not routines are fine,
But I encourage you to try,
Come out of your comfort zone.
Submitted by: Lyahnize Rojas
when words have a weight,
i like to sit and think about
the things that would calm me down.
i remember those nights i'd fall asleep
to your steady breaths.
i remember taking comfort in the silence
that fell between.
i remember how your presence was enough to submerge me
into a state of relaxation no metaphor could comprehend.
you were my constant.
you were my heartbeat.
you were my clarity.
and with you,
i was stable.
but these nights i lie awake
speaking to another.
one who's begged to be that remedy.
one who i would wish cure me
if i wasn't so preoccupied searching for you.
these breaths they take don't fill my lungs like yours did.
i still find myself overwhelmed with insecurity,
in times i'm surrounded by security.
that's just one of the many things
that returned in your absence.
something in me broke that day,
and the piece that shattered was too
significant to sweep under the rug.
see, in the fragments of that glass rest
my sense of reality itself.
when i look through them with a
everything is as it should be.
yet i still spend these hours
examining every shard,
searching for something i know cannot be found.
then every time i pause,
i look back at all that time wasted
and the pile in front of me
and i think about giving up,
because i know that this is insanity.
I am insane.
Submitted by: Coryse Villarouel
This is a country of firsts
A long list of those who broke the curse
The curse to unite, read, lead and fight
But yet the race has no end
It has a strong beginning and it bends
Today was won, tomorrow's begun
The clock resets, restarts at one.
We must look past this test
Look to those who have done it best
There are countries in the world
Whose lists of first have long been told
They've raced and reached every first
and continue to climb past what was their worst
Lessons have been taught, races have clear endings they strive for newer, brace for better, build for stronger and unite together.
Let our firsts be like theirs and move past all our fears
Lead through all our tears to build a nation that belongs to all of our peers.
Submitted by: Liam O’Connor
We are the sons of our father's
We were the lovers to be
We are the ghosts
We were the boys so vain
In the field’s of green once a river of red flowed but we shall never rise from it’s depths
We are the echo of the past though your ears remain deaf to our dying breath
In the field's of shattered dreams lies the bygone of what was
In the room lays the tattered book of rhymes of joy
The giggle of the child so fragile and still when life was but a fleeting thought
The mother's weeping over the cradling tomb
What was and what is can not be understood
The stones now stand up for all who pass
But they can not comprehend yet still they try to see
For the rain washed away the pain but not our cries!
Forget me not! Forget me not! I am here! See the flowers grow!
In the field's of poppies and the sea of gold we are here still! We are the breath in the wind!
Yet we are forever silent like the Guns of War.....