When I was younger Poems sprouted from my head like little seedlings I had a swirling ball of creative energy in my head Pink and blue and purple Yellow, red, green Words were everywhere I could pull them out of the air Pull anything out of my mind Give it water, air, sunshine, life
It still glows inside me But now I know Poems Lie in corners Wait in cracks of stone walls In laughter In everything And nothing And you have to wait Apreciate them when they come
Sometimes they stay with me Sometimes they are fleeting moments Only for myself Shy, and I get to nurse them to health pinch the perfect words, and help the bad ones Some love the spotlight
They lie everywhere In my head In the old rocking chair That new can of paint My Grandma's hands
I have grown up inside these walls. There is not a day I remember in which bells did not chime around me, cars did not crawl by in miles of traffic, salespeople did not push themselves against passerby. This is the city my family was placed in at the beginning of time, and it is where I will stay. We are the city people, and that is that. I have heard murmurings of outside communities, ones whose land is free, ones whose land is trees, ones whose lives are on boats. But they do not matter. Never once will I have to leave this serene, unwavering land of peace, never once will I meet the people of alternating races. My sea of brown is all I need. In school we are taught not to question the ways our food is gathered, not to question where the water comes from. So until I was fourteen, I did not know the power of our government.
I did not know how we stripped the trees from the green people.
You promised me galaxies, My Love. You promised to cradle my head to your chest, to hold my outstretched arms, While the sunlight danced between our fingertips, Sparking upwards towards its cloud-laden home: The home which you promised me.
They say dreams are for children, So call me a child. But know that I was made a child by you, My Love. The pupils of my eyes did dilate and fill With the Milky Way of your beauty.
You took me, not by the hand but by the heart, And showed me all of your constellations While I charted them In the skies you promised to take me to.
So why am I laying in the grass alone Staring up into you? Why am I laying on the Earth alone Bathed in only the shadows of your moonlight.
You loved all of my labors, But would not labor to love me. For who would pick a star from the dust When there are 100 billion awaiting in the dusk.
I was sipping a cup of tea, Swinging on my front porch in the early morning As I watched the sunrise. The golden morning light happened to Remind me of you. As I watched that ball of gold slip into the now pastel blue Sky, I remembered the words you spoke; You never truly loved me; If you did, you wouldn't be leaving. That was almost three years ago today. Tears well up in my eyes, and I can't help but let a single tear Fall... The memory of you hurts. The faith I had in you is now a bitter, empty hole within my chest; An emptiness that I can't replace. I thought we had something special. I thought we had forever.
It’s been four months now. Four months since you left us. Four months since I last saw your face or stroked your neck. Somehow, it feels as if I saw you yesterday. Somehow, it feels as if you were just a dream. I know you can’t hear this, but I have to say it anyways. I have to say everything I never got the chance to tell you.
I remember the first time I heard your name. I remember how ridiculous it sounded to me, and how distraught I was that Maren picked you over the pretty paint horse I had seen. Taco, what a ridiculous name. A horse should be named something beautiful and regal, not after some food. This was the extent to which my five-year-old self considered your arrival into my life.
Hello world. Hello wonderland. Hello fantasy. I see dragons. I see unicorns. I see phoenixes. I can fly. I can see. I can hear. I understand this world. I understand these creatures. I understand my purpose for being. Here. Where is here? Where am I? Where are we? We are in a Fantasy.
By Lia Gugliotta Grade 5 Killington Elementary School