My Brother’s Keeper
“Where is Abel your brother?”
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JV Tennis Slam
My name is Nick O’Dea, and I’m performing JV Tennis, by Nick O’Dea. This slam poem is dedicated to the Las Lomas High School JV Tennis team and to the entire nation of France.
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Isreal Haiku
By, Jack Joseph
Long bus rides seem boring
We have yet to learn the truth:
The only nap-time
Shooting stars above
Astronomers call out
“Get to the shelter”
The Free Bird Soars Through the Blue#1 Sky
by Angela Guo
The free bird soars through the Blue#1 sky
Admiring her spotless wings of tie-dye
The free bird gazes at the Red#40 horizon
Thinking, “Oh, what a fabulous, fine fortune.”
The free bird dips and scratches the Blue#2 Sea
Remaining lost in her pure ecstasy
The free bird inspects her pretty rainbow feathers
And now by a small tiny little worry, she is tethered
The free bird, baffled by her discolored plumage,
Returns to the Blue#2 Sea
The free bird’s little scratch has caused a leakage
No longer is her panorama so perfectly pretty
The free bird asks Him
“Dear Lord, what have I done?”
With a curious, crooked smile, He replies
“Questions are liked by no one.”
The free bird returns to her Blue? sky
But no longer does she admire her wings of tie-dye
The free bird examines the Red? horizon
Soon the glowing sun will be risin’
The free bird flaps back to the leakage once more
Wondering why the Blue? sea flows so imperfectly
The free bird leans down and opens the door
The water clearing her eyes of deceitful debris
The free bird rubs her eyes a bit too vigorously
And now she opens them to a sight not-so-sightly
Confined by metal bars the bird must stand
Her life, her world, in reality not grand
The caged bird squawks frightfully
“Why, I am not so free!”
He dangles a Yellow#5 seed, saying
“Eat this, my dear pretty.”
Flarf
Feeling sentimental and stuff. Poems used: “I love you” by Ella Wheeler Cox; “Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe; “The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!” by John Keats; “Dear One Absent This Long While” by Lisa Olstein; “I loved you first: but afterwards your love” by Christina Rosseti; “[Lying in bed I think about you]” by Joshua Beckman; “You, Therefore” by Reginald Shepard; “Dangerous Love” by Maya Asregadoo
My darling dearest sweetheart
Lying in bed I think about you
here where there is no snow
(I dreamed the snow was you, when there was snow)
Yours is the name the leaves chatter
at the edge of the unrabbited woods.
I loved you first—
loved with a love that was more than love
Did you ever love me,
my Annabel Lee?
You called me yours once and I smiled
The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes
Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,
Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise –
i – still – carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart)
i am never without it
My darling dearest sweetheart
Lying in bed I think about you
here where there is no snow
My words
by Jack Joseph
Sonder (n): the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own, populated by their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries, inside jokes, and stories. In addition, you play the part of a background character just as they do to you. Perhaps yours is the car next to theirs when sitting in traffic or it’s your lamp that lights a window across the street from their home. Maybe you’re the person that wrote and posted something that he or she read and enjoyed.
Words are pretty cool, but let’s start with the basics.
I’ve got a brain (I mean, we all do).
I’ve got a pen. And it’s got some ink.
The Adventures of Job, Trixie, and Lola
Today in Writers’ Club, we listened to three songs from a diverse range of genres–classical, obscenely gangster rap, and lastly, Icelandic–while writing short stories that had to revolve around three characters: Job, Trixie, and Lola. The goal was not to create something extremely refined, but simply be inspired by the mood that music creates. Below are the two stories I wrote; the first contains both Job and Trixie, and the second contains Lola.
by Angela Guo
A very young baby girl named Lola stared at the circle of plastic toys spinning above her face. Among the objects in the circle were a rubber duck, a miniature beach ball, and a Barbie-sized clown. Laying peacefully in her crib, Lola studied the toy clown.
The painted red smile on the clown’s face began to turn downward. Lola’s mouth followed this movement. Lola opened her mouth, which was still missing quite a few teeth. All of a sudden, the clown fell off the circle, landing into Lola’s open mouth. Lola was paralyzed with fear, too surprised and too young to think of pulling the toy clown from her mouth.
Elle and James
A one syllable story that I did for Creative Writing. I failed with “some-thing” and “always.” Please forgive me. 😉
She was real nice to look at, James thought. He liked to to watch her through the blinds of her coach as it rolled through the town, the wheels loud as they hit the stone road.
A Long Setup
By Declan Quinn. For the “the two stood face to face” prompt.
The two stood face to face, frozen in their little moment in time. There they stood, a sharp outcrop of black against the bleak white backdrop. It was like standing in a white room, except that the walls, floor, and ceiling didn’t exist. Nothing existed, except for the two, standing against the passing of time, the infinite of space, confined to their own little corner of their own universe.
Reflect
By Jack Joseph
For the “begin with ‘the two stood face to face’ and end with ‘in the end there was only one'” prompt. I’d say “enjoy,” but that’s not the point.
The two stood face to face. She was too young to understand thesignificance of the moment, but her parents knew and they beamed. Their little Emily, who had always seemed smaller than children her age had any right to be, was finally walking. As she took one more step towards the mirror and raised a hand up to her twin, her parents looked on with pride and joy. They knew tomorrow would always bring more happiness than yesterday had, and that they would finally have peace.
As the pencil marks on the doorframe got higher, Emily’s mother began to fade. Emily saw her once flushed and rosy face turned into a pale ghost of itself. They had to spend more and more time in the big white building with too much anonymous equipment and not enough smiles. Her father often seemed to spend more time in his thoughts than he did with Emily and her mother could only weakly brush the tears from Emily’s face. Continue reading
Words 