Mixed Bag
I sigh As the warm water pours down my back Washing off the dust and dirt Of the last week It’s been so long since I showered. A movie Playing on television Surrounding me with...
Poems
Poetry and verse from young voices
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I sigh
As the warm water pours down my back
Washing off the dust and dirt
Of the last week
It’s been so long since I showered.
A movie
Playing on television
Surrounding me with its music and images
It’s nice to be part of society again.
Pillows
Soft and fluffy
Two of them on my bed
I’d forgotten what they felt like.
A warm quilt
Pulled over me
What a nice warm place to sleep.
I love it when it’s raining
and you’re driving
and you pass under a bridge
and the rain stops
for just a moment.
I love it when you walk outside
on a wet morning
and you can smell damp clay
and freshly mown grass
under the gray morning light.
I love it when it’s nighttime
and you’re under a cool blanket of stars
and you feel like
you should be able to see your breath
or taste the air.
Look up.
Can you see the moon?
white as snow?
The sun, as
yellow as a new crayon?
A baby blue sky
like an ocean?
Look down!
Cold in one spot,
warm in others,
the creek is full
of amazing creatures
Our nets,
shaped like D’s
scoop up
mud puppies and
crawdads
The still water
is a mirror,
and tripping on
sharp rocks,
I scrape my knee,
But I am sad only
because my teacher calls,
“Time to go!”
Every evening a tumbling, frothy white waterfall cascades
over the mountains.
Its thick, swirly, blanket settles among the trees, and oozes
into the valley.
It keeps coming; soft, white and misty.
It reaches its tendrils around each tree.
You can see it creeping, crawling like it is sneaking up
on someone.
As the sun sets, yellow rays shine through its top layer
of mist.
I awake early
in our small, candlelit prison
a stone tower
high above the sands of Crete.
Father melts hot wax
from his thick candle
dripping it on my shoulders
his gentle hands
press something into place.
Wings!
Giant, feathery white wings
unfolding from my bronze shoulders
I stand in awe.
I finger the valves.
They are cold and uninviting to the touch.
I take a breath.
My lips form an embouchure.
I blow.
At first there is noise,
Much noise,
Then the music starts.
It flows through my veins,
Coursing through my body.
I play from the heart.
I love it,
No,
Need it.
Music is me,
I am the music.
I need it,
I want it,
I can’t get enough,
I play until my heart swells
And my body sways.
It was a funny, sunny afternoon when
Something hit my cheek
A cloud of a loud boom
Came from above
Then dark splattered all over the park
Like black paint hitting white paper
I ran as fast as I could,
slipping on raindrops
“Go back to Asia!”
He says and sneers and snarls.
He lacks imagination.
He is so predictable.
Sometimes he spreads his pain and says,
“Go back to Egypt!”
“Go back to Mexico!”
“Go back to Africa!”
He must be a travel agent
Waiting to book a flight.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe we should all go back
And thank the Native Americans
For their hospitality,
For their generosity.
I feel tears welling up in my eyes
I try to suppress them
I don’t want to cry
At least not here
In front of people
But I do
I do cry
I cry and I cry
And I try to push it back
But I’ve waited too long
I think about it
About the mess
About my parents
My childhood
My home
My safety
And I cry even more
The mess is big
It overwhelms me
It makes me shiver
It makes me cry
My mother didn’t love ...
Water
Laughter is like a cool glass of water.
Refreshing, enjoyable.
A cool trickle going down your throat.
When you laugh, you forget the pile of homework,
waiting at school for you.
You forget about the fact that your mom is in the hospital,
and you’re not sure if she’s ever going to come out again.
You forget about grades and projects and friends.