Chloe Dickinson

“Don’t look at me”
Their unprotected, inexperienced eyes critic my face and body with every move I make.
I am nothing but judgment to them, they have no other wish but to see me fall.
They don’t know what to look for their acts are based on what they see.
So now I wonder, would I rather be seen or known?

The night is dark and cloudy,
I cast my line afar,
And from the murky waters,
I caught myself a star.

The night is dark and cloudy,
I cast my line afar,
And from the murky waters,
I caught myself a star.

You cheat,
I cheat,
We all cheat,
Together.
You stop,
I stop,
We all Stop,
Together.

Let Go of Your Fear

By Chloe Dickinson
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

Fear
The single feeling that can lead to so many more things.
It limits you
It prohibits you
It makes you incapable.
But don’t listen to it… It’s just a figment of your imagination.
You gave yourself fear
And you can take it away.

Lyrics Last Forever

By Chloe Dickinson
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

Completing a melody,
Developing the harmony
The essence of a tune,
Brings meaning to the room.

The core of winded silence,
Remembered from a distance
Forever live the lyrics,
A music maker’s physics.

Staying where song has ceased,
Bringing comfort, even peace
Lasting lifetimes now and then,
The ringing words will never end.

World circling around her,
Busy people, rushing and thinking;
In their world of preoccupied life.
No one has the ability to notice her sitting,
There, on the park bench attentively waiting;
If they had seen her, they’d know she was waiting,
Considering it a human weakness of sorts.
But looking closely they may have noticed,
The smile twitching at the corners of her lips,

Green in my Room

By Chloe Dickinson
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

Lightly changing with the light
Forest green in the darkest night
Like lemon yellow in the sun
When morning shines in
The day has begun.

The lime green of my room is ever changing
Inspiring my art and never taming.

Heat, blue yellow, orange, red
Eyes closed, the fire envelopes.
Ears ringing from the impact,
Clothes singed from the power.
No time for life,
Just time to fight,
For life and against it.

Brought down to the ground
Night, to not, sun to some sought
Again, I shall not.

Faking Protection

By Chloe Dickinson
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

I study the curtain,
Its dusty red ripples hide me from their eyes.
I am the performer, the one who tells lies.
My life is a stage, but the curtain won't lift,
It hides me from the world, a place I don't fit.
A mask over my face, I cannot stay behind,
The curtain won't lift, but I part it with my mind.

My life is mine. But it is so affected by everything around it that sometimes I think of it as everyone’s life. I don’t write the story of my life with me being the only character; the story contains everyone and tells the story of my friends, enemies, family and foe. The people all affect me, living my life, which I write. So as I write my story, I come to think, is this my story?

Global Warming—it is an endless cycle—vicious and growing stronger with every rotation. Our doom is not at its end, nor is out doom sentenced yet, our doom will come when we view all of the human accomplishments destroyed by something that was started by us and could only have been stopped by us.

As I cry
My tears wash away the dust that
Is my pain.

They Water the seedlings
In the dirt that is my mind,
Now the plants begin grow.

They strenthen the river of time
So it will flow faster,
And new times will come,
My sorrow will pass.

So come what may,
Keep raining tears,
My pain will GROW away.

Her Empty State

By Chloe Dickinson
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

Mistakes

By Chloe Dickinson
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

She’s standing there just looking at me,
Breathing hard I stand terrible, furious and free,
But then my head spins,
The tunnel vision begins.

Roaring fills my ears,
Crying tear after tear,
Choking on the words I just spit out of my mouth,
I want her to retort, but she won’t fight, she won’t shout.

She’s standing there just looking at me,
Breathing hard I stand terrible, furious and free,
But then my head spins,
The tunnel vision begins.

Roaring fills my ears,
Crying tear after tear,
Choking on the words I just spit out of my mouth,
I want her to retort, but she won’t fight, she won’t shout.

I look in her eyes they are hurt, confused but still benign,

My Closet

By Chloe Dickinson
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

Little tufts of hair peeking around the corner
A dark mysterious cave on the other side,
One hand reaches in, dreading what could grab it
Suspense grows until finally a thread of hope is found!

A little string hanging from ceiling pulled
And light floods the Closet.
One small step forward

The brown earth becomes white,
Like a chocolate cake
With Nana’s secret recipe of vanilla icing
Bringing a sweet joy to everything it covers
Just like the joy of snow

There’s that little person
You know the one I’m talking about?
The follower, the mimic, that one
The younger one…

Downsyndrom, her battle
I “fight” it with her, but how I don’t know
It is a constant in my life
I could never tell the difference, because I don’t know anything else.
What would my life be like if she had been “normal”?

You know about gratefulness, we all do, but there is a fine line between grateful and thankful. Thankful is for the temporary things, things that may repeat your whole life but are given to you in one moment; the meals put in front of you every night, the kiss on your for head at bedtime, and the laughter with friends.

You know about gratefulness, we all do, but there is a fine line between grateful and thankful. Thankful is for the temporary things, things that may repeat your whole life but are given to you in one moment, the meals put in front of you every night, the kiss on your for head at bedtime, and the laughter with friends.

Preview:

Ghosts

They are here, figments of our imagination. But what makes them real? Are they truly present, scaring us sending shivers up our spines, is that a real ghost? Or is a ghost a memory, of perhaps an old acquaintance or friend; a memory that is brought about by the mood of your surroundings brought alive by the dark chill of the early evening.

Persuaded by Me!

By Chloe Dickinson
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

First I ask nicely, that’s always the key
Smile politely; they’ll like what they see.
I’ll carefully craft the question and wait,
To see if they’ve followed my bait.
But if they don’t my honesty ensues
And they learn all my reasons and views.
My blunt opinion comes out of it all

Expectations

By Chloe Dickinson
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

“Work until you drop
Do you homework and complete my expectations.
Do it because it is right, do it because it will help you
Follow my directions.
Because I expect you to
Its time to learn what’s out there
Nothing in the future will be easier than this
Expect that”

That was the teacher,