CREATIVE WRITING
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PROSE
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POETRY
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Dear Heart
Corie Thomas (5/21) Dear Heart, You don’t know what to talk to her about. You wanna say “hey, you seem cool. Wanna be friends?” but you can’t. You wanna open my mouth and speak at least a couple words, not just look. It's pretty weird; just because you're lost in thoughts and starting to drool doesn’t give you a pass. Now open your mouth with some confidence in yourself and talk to her before it’s too late. Even if you think it’s too late, you only fail if you don’t try. You know we are introverts and don’t talk to people easily, but how long can that last until I lose my mind and my thoughts go all crazy. It's like you are scared and starting to make me overthink daily. Give a flower like it’s Valentine's Day and don’t say “ew,” even though you don’t celebrate that claimed-to-be holiday. I know you're not against love since you like to show it, but it looks like this person has captured your heart. Did Cupid shoot an arrow at you? Did you really fall in love or are you just lusting over looks? Did her personality leave you speechless or catch you like a fish on a hook? I gave you my suggestion, heart. That’s all I have to say. From, Brain Sleep Leo Anderson (1/21) I lay in my bed as the house is painted in silence, shivers of streaky breaths and light snoring dance around in the air, leaving nothing but soundless sleep. The house creaks and moans as the outside winds blow, the late night drivers in their cars whizzing past the front of the house on our now-lonely and quiet street. They’re probably trying to get home quickly so they can sleep. The heater makes tapping noises, the fish tank buzzes, the house is silent. Perfect for sleeping. Why am I still awake? My brain seems to be speaking, like an annoying beeping that won’t shut off. Nothing too serious, except why am I here? Why isn’t it clear? What are my fears? As I lay in my bed, the house is painted in sleep. The noises ranging from shallow creeps to hollow breaths of belief. When soon will I sleep? The Beauty of Life Christopher Cazarin (2/21) A street that carries not only the living, but the dead. A cemetery that lies on my street. It keeps this street in a sense of melancholy. There is one thing this cemetery seems to enjoy and that's growth. It thrives on the dead. Death is inevitable, inescapable, and imminent. Truly a terrifying thing to wonder about. People die and that is a way of living. We live and we eventually wither away into the void. We live and witness the true terrors of this world. We live and we are truly horrified at what some people are capable of. But we also live for the beauty and aspirations we seek. That's the thrill of living. We live to fulfill our desires before it’s too late. Let’s not dwell on our downfall, but our uprise. My street not only carries the dead, but it carries the living. A community that lives in my street. We walk this street with a sense of hope. There is one thing we seem to enjoy and that’s to grow in strength. We live not only for ourselves, but the people who have passed. That's the beauty of life. Intoxicated Seed By Ashley Galindo Lara (1/21) I blossomed like never before; as each pink petal touched the ground I fell for you even more. I told almost every truth that laid beneath my skin; I felt comfortable again. I felt the butterflies in my stomach, I felt the goosebumps across my skin every time I was on my way to see you. I felt safe within your arms as they covered my whole body, not leaving an inch of space to be seen. I finally felt happy again. You knew my past. You knew I had a fear of abandonment. You knew I had trust issues shortly after we hung out on that beach. We stayed on a little island eating our snacks from Krauzsers while making awkward conversation; you were nervous, you stuttered in every sentence you spoke. You tried to convince me that you weren’t like the rest, that you would stay no matter what. I trusted you. I trusted you to not abandon me like everyone else. As we entered a crowd full of people, I held your arm. As you led me deeper into the pit of swarming seeds, I caught myself, suddenly holding onto your arm tighter. Afraid that if I let go I’d be lost and in a state of mind that that would leave me no way of getting back to you. As I paid attention to our conversations getting drier by the day, I felt a poisonous toxin enter my roots. I saw your effort and your attention slowly ungrasping itself from me. You lost your focus in early September, maybe late August. You lost focus on everything and only had your mind set on one thing. You felt like everything else could wait, including me. How could I be so stupid? It was too good to be true. Loving you always ended up with me losing petals; me slowly losing my spiritual beauty. I guess it was only a matter of time before our roots started to rot. Your focus was completely gone. I knew it would happen eventually but I had still let myself fall for you. You told me you hadn’t wanted to lose focus from your own goals, but once I entered the picture, that you hadn’t expected to change, that everything just got overloaded. You told me that everything else could wait, including me; I don't want to be an option. When you’re ready or when you have stuff sorted out, then look for me. I can't promise that I won’t have moved on, but God only knows that what I felt for you in these past few months was so real. Our love has gone cold; you're intertwining your roots with somebody else. I hate to picture you with someone else. You told me that you still wanted to be friends, at least. That you still want me in your life, because I’m “such a cool person.” My heart broke. You told me, “I never wanted you as an option.” I told you with tears in my eyes, “I slowly turned into one, bubba. You didn’t even notice.” Everyone you know has either left or done something to mess with your head so you grew this mindset of being relaxed and expecting everything bad to happen. When you start something new and something bad does happen, you already know how to brace yourself for impact. You were so afraid that you would end up getting hurt, that you would be the one to be left behind, but it was me. I was the one that had to bear all the pain that you inflicted. You damaged me more than you could have possibly known in these few months. I still wish you the ultimate best; do you and reach your goals. Even if I’m not by your side when you do, I’ll still forever be proud and think, “He finally did it.” I never realized how deep I dug myself in. I claimed the ground that was so toxic it burned me, along with my roots, as I slowly started to wither from the inside out. I realized that it was too late; it was too late to undig myself. Maybe it wasn’t the soil that was toxic; maybe it was the seed itself. I really wanted to make things work, so badly you don't even know. But I wasn’t strong enough to hold the weight for both of us. I’m sorry. My pollen core was left unguarded by your empty promises. To a Future Grandmother
Ashley G. Lara (12/20) Thank you for telling me stories about your childhood. How you would want to savor the taste of a fruit cup but instead walked home, sad, because there wasn’t enough money for you to buy it. How you ate at a small wooden table with your mother (my grandmother) eating frijoles because that’s all you guys had to eat. How different your siblings’ personalities were, but not too different. How one of your sisters was always serious and rarely laughed at the jokes your brothers and sisters told. How you would play a Mexican version of hopscotch called Avion and even taught me how to play it. Thank you for attending my soccer games and buying me the resources I needed for soccer when I was in middle school and now in high school. Thank you for sharing our culture, what traditions and festivals were like in Mexico. How we make Pan De Muerto for Dia De Los Muertos (Halloween), why we attend posadas (Google translates this to nativity). How some fruits, like plums, taste so much better in Mexico. And how you used to love the chips they sold in clear goodie bags with toppings such as Valentina, Lime, and even Chamoy. Thank you for teaching me right from wrong and all the lessons I’ve had to learn the hard way around. I will make you proud and hopefully a grandmother some day; just wait on it. |
Change
Astoria Davis (5/21) So you’re going to cut off all my limbs and act like I’m not there You think cutting off pieces of me is going to fix your problems Look, if the the winds of life blow too hard or lightning hits me like ‘Mother Nature’ intended I’m going to fall and I’ll go crashing into to your house and my leaves will go everywhere That's what ‘Mother Nature’ intended Not being struck down for building plans or your paper supply for pencils or furniture That's not what ‘Mother Nature’ intended Oh, how you humans forget I help with your air supply bringing you, and all others, life before your very eyes But, yes, cut my limbs off, use me, and act like I’m not there Mental Health is Like Your Dog, It’s Your Best Friend Corie Thomas (2/21) The health people have is not the same Sometimes it’s heart, Back, Neck, Arm, Leg, Hand, Feet, And waist There is health always Some make fun of mental health If you knew what it was about You wouldn't be laughing But since you don't, let me tell you Mental health is affecting you The way you act The way you think The way you feel If you live with mental issues or mental disability Everybody makes fun of you Sometimes this makes people with mental disability Feel like a dog in an alley, alone I know what life is like Having mental issues or a mental disability I live with it every day of my life I know people feel different with mental disability but I don’t It gives me joy when I know People with mental disabilities are happy that They have something unique It makes them feel different from everybody else In a good way If you want to feel the same, you still can with mental problems; it doesn’t have to affect how you are So I’m telling people with mental disability Don’t make your disability your worst friend Make them your best friend If nobody likes that your friend has disability Then they have to change Not stay the same But you don’t have to change If someone doesn’t like you Mental problems are like a dog Not in an alley, but as A man or woman’s best friend This is America Astoria Davis (1/21) Black America can never flourish Every time we get close, you shut us Down Kick us Out You take what we have and Burn it to the ground We scream, we shout We protest, we stand, we kneel But you shoot us to the ground We expose how bad America really is You lynch us Whether it's rubber bullets or tear gas Whether it’s tasers or bullets You want us to be gone You want us dead Let's go back a little bit to the 1800s People say that you ate us, Wore us and used our babies as Alligator bait Where do you think the word “picnic” comes from? You would pick a slave to kill And eat as a family To make yourselves strong and healthy We still remember all the hurt All the pain passed down through centuries Generational hurt Black America can never flourish Every time we get close, you shut us Down Kick us Out You take what we have and Burn it to the ground For I Desire a Peace of Mind By Ashley Galindo Lara (2/21) As I’m grasping a peach in my hand, I sit on a tree branch feeling the hot breeze brush against my face. As I struggle to catch my breath I begin to realize that my life is shriveling into pieces. I catch my breath and get down from the tree. A grey cloud suddenly appears over my head. Automatically I feel compelled to lay down on the grass and not move. Frozen in distress, I remind myself that it’ll be over soon. I walk towards the pumpkin patch, the tall withered grass itching my legs as I walk by. The grey cloud smiles down on me, knowing it won’t go away any time soon. I make my choice and suddenly can’t seem to physically lift the 10-pound pumpkin. Starting to get frustrated, Steve looks over at me and says, “It’s okay, Olivia. Let me.” I starts to get teary; Steve looks over without saying anything and hugs me tightly. He whispers, “Is it another hard day?” I nod my head slowly into his hoodie. Steve lets go, cuffs my face with his hands, kisses my forehead, and says, “We will get through today. Let’s go home.” Fake Friend Corie Thomas (1/21) All the pain you made me feel Leaving me to drown in tears Acting like you didn’t know me When you were in front of your friends Getting angry at me for no reason Yelling when I didn’t listen to you Saying I ruined your life Telling me it was my fault For how you ended up Telling me to get out Not caring about how I felt You left me miserable Black Youngin’ State of Mind Zanai Buchanan (11/20) Everybody my age is battling depression. Little kids, in sixth grade, are meeting up for smoke sessions. Meanwhile their parents are showing them mad aggression. Hitting and beating kids for asking them simple questions. Nowadays people shooting with no discretion. Another black kid caught in the middle of a shooting session. White cops crushing them black backs and all their oppression. The only thing they look for in us is our self expression. They love watching black men on and in them courts. Too bad they can’t see they got more to offer than sports. Too many black lives are being cut short. Black lady finds out she pregnant the doctors tell her to abort. I live my life flinching and looking back. See all them people in the neighborhood snorting thick lines of crack. Too bad they want me dead just because I’m black. My teacher told me my writing skills could be put in a paperback. Laying in bed its dark, pitch black, got me thinking like a maniac. My mind creeping, I end up falling asleep. In my dream I see a black man hanging with leaves above a creek. “Inhale deep, exhale words on my breath. I never sleep, because sleep is the cousin of death.” Iclassroom
Dana Bach Open my computer Sun is coming up. Eyes stretched out like dough Coffee in my cup. Staring at a blank screen Sipping on caffeine. Soaking up information From this small machine. But I don’t feel like a sponge I feel more like a sheet of plastic. Learning how I should be? Yeah, that would be fantastic. Hours go by Clicking, watching, typing, Fearful for my future All while I am skyping. The day has come to an end Finally, I have a break. Wait, no I still have homework Oh for goodness sake. |
