Fall -- General Writing

Fire...

She loved watching the little flame, wavering, curious, peeking its orange head over the top of the clear purple-blue lighter, reflecting off the fingers that gave it life. She killed it quickly with the flick of her thumb, then brought it back a moment later, a phoenix, reincarnated...

She lit leaves, tiny twigs, isolated in shallow pits she scraped in the cool September dirt of the park. It was sandy soil that didn’t grow much but stiff-stemmed grass. Dried rivulets and gullies snaked across the field, steep-carved little canyons downhill. To a mouse, the tiny streams were giant lakes, slim rushing oceans. The girl’s small flames were bonfire signals that flashed against the night.

I.
I don’t remember when I retreated from the sun.
It was gradual, in increments, little incidents
drawing me further and faster into darkness.
I didn’t realize until the morning
I opened my mouth, words came out,
and nobody glanced toward me.

I hated this prison, this half-self-made cage.
I could see, I could smell, I could hear --
but I could not do.
I wouldn’t let myself. I’d be exposed.
People might see
what the mirror reflected so glaringly.
But what do mirrors show
but truth?
It’s our eyes that lie.

Once, when someone asked me
what animal I’d most like to be, I dropped my gaze
and said a maple tree, tall, thick-trunked,
steady branches spreading wide and up.
A tree is in the background; a tree
observes and whispers what it sees
and doesn’t care that no one looks its way.

II.
I leaned against the slick white bark
and listened for the footsteps of a no-longer-ghost.
It would be so easy, so fitting,

Planted in the harshness of a polluted earth
Their arms extend to reach the lives of their allies
Each rooted to serve such worth
Yet linked to cleanse the tainted skies

Seen in a diversity of classes
From orchards to scorching blazes
They look upon us with focused glasses

They stand in the midst of adversity
But have such strength and motivation
Living without shame and pity
Making them an immaculate creation

Confused with the decisions of man
They aspire to grow larger than our hearts
Wishing we could grow skin like theirs’
But we don’t even know where it all starts

Never afraid of their constant changes
They pursue their existence with bliss
Unlike our fearful arranges
We just sink into the shadowy abyss

Tall with colorful and exuberant veins
Which flow with sweetness among their native flesh
Traveling with gravity like several trains
Their thoughts stream into the perfect mesh

They show us that we can develop like them too

Let's say
it happens.

(Please don't, please don't...)

All my fault, but not my fault at all....

a lesson on taking the blame:
I didn't do anything; I did everything.

I miss/need/love/hate/care

If it doesn't:

[Please, please!]

whatever horrible, disgusting, inhuman part of me that wanted,
for the drama,
for the emotions,
for whatever horrible reasons my frazzled brain could possibly present me with...

maybe that tiny brain cell
would feel sad.

That
life is good.

Literally.

No one knows why
No one knows how

and I know least of all.

[Please, please, he didn't do anything. Please.]

Selfishly, I'd be lonely
at NEs.
Selfishly.

Selfishly, I'd be angry
for his choices
and beliefs
and policies.

and maybe a little less selfishly,

I'd be mad that it was never
me.

Selfishly,
I sit here
and feel underprivileged
because I'm not up there with them
on faith. love. healing. family. values.

Please. Please. Please.

Tears are hiding behind your feeble eyes
Your heart listens to the steady breathing of wisdom
While the duration of your capabilities seem to weaken
The subtleties of your mind awake to a new subject
As you remain oblivious to the usage of words
Your uncertainty ravels her thoughts
As she questions your complications
Your mind circulates to your true convictions
As they tease your heart with honesty
You wish she could decipher your integrity
So you could escape a hysteria of desperation
But security overwhelms you as droplets secrete from your face

(Chorus)
It’s been three month’s
And you think you know me
But who’s to say I haven’t changed?
Who’s to say that you’ve been better?
All this time has been pretend
And it’s just another trend
It’s not like this is new to me
New to me
New to me

[Verse One]
I wake up every morning
To the sound of your anger
And the voice of no warning
Your rage is no stranger
We can all be scared
In the midst of danger
Because it’s not like you’ve cared

[Chorus]

[Verse Two]
My heart’s shattered to pieces
You never mended what was and could’ve been
It’s all just happening again
You end up running off the edge
Hurting everyone on your way
You never restrain from the past
But I guess it’s the price you pay

[Chorus]

Self-explanatory content

By Sally Tucker
Hartford High School, Grade 10

I hate
Comparison
I dread
The deep
Judgment
Of difference
I’m irritated
How it
Winds through
Society
Sinking into
Our automatic
thoughts
I loathe
Any second
Glance
That isn’t
Quick acceptance
In my head
Even the
Angry words
I am writing
It bothers me
How you might
Be using
Any negative
Words about
This poem
Because
You're comparing
It to others
Right now
And you
Don’t think
There’s anything
Wrong with that

As i walk down these halls for the last time I rmemeber what has happened and what possilbly could happen in the coming years. The first year went by a little slow but we all made it through. Classes went by a slower the we normaly intended and we didn't really know what was goin on. The second year you moce on step up you kin of know what your doin and where your going. Your bigger then the 6th graders but your still below the 8th. The biggest season of my life in basket ball. The team went 17-1 with the only loss goin to indian river. My whole team has togeth since 2nd grade. Then finally 8th grade your king of the school you know the school and you know most of the teachers.

Doors

By Josie Kerrigan
Hartford High School, Grade 10

Doors open
Doors close.
Doors creak
Doors squeak.
Doors are entryways
Doors are dead ends.
They whisper
They yell.
Doors are big
Doors are small.
They protect
They unveil.
Doors share secrets
Doors keep secrets.
Doors open
Doors close.

At the end

By Noah Detzer
Hartford High School, Grade 12

So soon it ends
in one year
everything will change.
everything.

All will leave
Some will succeed.
Some will fail.
Some will be left behind.
Some I may cross paths with
but
All will leave.

In a sense
it's a reboot.
a new beginning.
a success.
a new way of living.
the first day of the rest of your life.
so they say often
repeating it as though it is law.

Some parts are good
leaving behind
the fake,
the plastic,
the insecure,
the immature.

Yet some are far worse
leaving the best friends
the ones who really mattered
the ones you love
for a new life somewhere else.

At the end
all of the struggles,
the successes,
the pain,
the sorrow,
the sadness,
is rendered moot.

At the end
everything changes.

Full Moon

By Jamie Benson
Crossett Brook Middle School, Grade 7

A shaft of moonlight seeps through your window and rests on your pillow.

You check your clock, 12:00, you try to sleep but you can't.

You look out your window at the cool night.

The moonlight on the driveway, as puddles of shadow, endless.

Sections of sky woven seamlessly together.

It makes you wonder... . Why.

And in that moment your head rests on your pillow and your imagination soars.

My lullaby

By Erin Trzcinski
Rutland High School, Grade 12

Cradled in your arms
My head upon your chest
I hear your heartbeat
Strong and steady.
I listen to your breathing
Slow and deep.
Listening to the rhythm of your heart
Coupled with your breaths
It never fails to lull me
Into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Club Strange

By Isabella Blanchard
Essex Middle School, Grade 9

With these words
I hope to convey to you
A sense of knowing.
More so, at least
Than the words
Shared with me
At my entrance to this
Strange club
This strange feeling.

Beware, because
There are those who
Would harm you
Around every corner.
They lurk in your
weaknesses.
They find their strengths
In your slow
But sure
Deterioration.

Beware, because
Nothing here
Is what it seems.
These doorways mean to
hold back, not inspire.
And the people waiting behind
Them, should you make it that
far would painfully,
without
feeling
kill you.

No, your body wouldn't
Stop functioning.
But your soul would.
And before you shirk
This advice
Ask yourself
If that is any better.

Thoughts on old, drunken men

By Isabella Blanchard
Essex High School, Grade 9

I would be lying through my teeth if I said I've seen the ups and the downs of the world. I have been very privileged in my time here on Earth and I think that as someone as blessed as I am, I have very little perspective on those who have not been so fortunate.

My Childhood Memory

By Kelsey Johnson
Hartford High School, Grade 11

The night I lost my sister I felt like a part of me had disappeared into thin air. She was like the second half of me that I never knew that I had, even though she was a year older than I.
We had just moved into our new house in Wilder from Windsor and were adjusting to the new change. My parents had just then put us in our own bedrooms. Ever since we were born, we had been sharing the same bedroom. Then, it didn’t seem like a big difference. I mean, we were still right next to each other, so what was the big deal, right?
Well, I didn’t know it then, but it was a big difference.
One day, I was getting ready for school and she was lying on the couch. Mom had said that Kristen was sick and couldn’t go to school that day. I shrugged it off; I figured that it was a common cold, that anyone could get it. But when I got home, she was still lying there. I remember she looked so pale that it scared me.