Jessica Austin

The writer's weave
Is what you said
The way they speak
Inside my head
My voice, their words
Their life, my curse
Every stanza, so diverse

Opinionated

By Jessica Austin
Westford School, Grade 8

Vermonters are opinionated.
Go take a walk on Church Street and you will find people who love something with a passion. Whether it's organic cotton vintage tees, or new-age music that no one has ever even heard before, or the new banana-lima-bean smoothie that is "all the rage", Vermonters are opinionated.
Try telling one of the banana-lima-bean smoothie guys that you tried it and didn't really like the texture of it. They will most likely go into a story about how the texture is better for you because it allows the fibers to be broken down in your stomach which releases antioxidants that prevent cancer, and can sometimes raise your IQ level because of some other free-radical destroying micro nutrient that only works in people that drink it at precisely 5:47 PM and have eaten an oyster 12 minutes before hand. You'll walk away with a whole new frame of mind, and a free smoothie.
Vermonters are opinionated.

Editor's Note: This piece will be presented at the Winter Tales productions of Vermont Stage Company, Dec 3-7 at FlynnSpace. Reading on this podcast and during the performance is Liz Gilbert, an 8th grade actress at U-32. To hear all the Winter Tales podcasts as they will sound at the shows, click here.

Warmth Doesn't Hold

By Jessica Austin
Westford School, Grade 8

We scramble in the vastness
Of the raw and icy blackness
Shivery numb and intensely deep
Warmth doesn't hold, but gently creeps

In and out of frosty light
Velvet dusk the color of night
Stealing stars from the jewelry box
Clouds covering footsteps lost

Arctic shock startles Time
Erasing every word that rhymes
Midnight must have come too soon
For Time also erased the moon

Now, my friend, what must we do?
Moon is gone, rhyme is too
I can't believe I came here with you

We scramble in the vastness

Icy
Chill;
Warmth
Emanating
As if
From a
Beating
Heart.
A
Broken
Beaten
Barely
Beating
Heart.

Icy
Still;
Wind is
Lifting
And
Separating
Each
Hair on
My
Goose-bump
Arms;
Silently
Slipping
Its
Chilly
Frozen
Fingers
Up my
Shoulders.

Icy
Kill;
See-through
Scab-covered
Slime-slick
Hands
Grasping
And
Clinging
And
Wringing
Life
Out of
The
Broken
Beaten
Barely
Beating
Heart.

I saw a familiar face today
Never serious, always play
She danced in my head
And messed up my mind
I know that she's pretty
I thought she was kind
But now that girl I knew is gone
Her rosy aura, thus withdrawn
She came with a purpose
She left with my heart
I wish she had stayed
But leaving's her part

Her natural style
With the
Never-nail-painting
Toe-sock-wearing
Overall-loving
Wonder
Will always be
In the back of my mind
Making me wish I hadn't
Left her all those years
Ago.

Let me see your soul.
My advice:
Breathe the sky
Melt with wind
Let me look into you
And see
Honest simplicity.
Let me in.

Discovering Myself

By Jessica Austin
Westford School, Grade 8

Waking up
Seeing the new
Wondering why
Wondering who
Guessing at old
Loving the truth
Discovering myself
In a world full of you

I ran through the woods, my backpack flailing madly behind me.
I had my pillow in one hand and my stuffed bunny in the other - I wasn't turning back.
I didn't even want to look back, for fear that I would chicken out and crawl back into my mothers arms telling her that I would never run away ever again.
But I didn't look back.
I liked the sense of freedom, the sense of thrill.
I lived for it.
I wanted to let fear swallow me whole before I went back.
I wanted to actually be afraid - something I hadn't felt in so long.
Some things are just worth it.

"Can I please go sit down?"
Sweat is forming on my upper lip, and my stomach is churning waves of vomit close to spilling over. I hate this.

Yeah, the smell, the Tango, the noise... the Fair. Champlain Valley Fair.

Hell met me at the line to the Tango. Open arms, plenty of room, ready for me as its next victim. It snatched my interest as soon as I walked in. I had to try and conquer it.

Good Luck. They had told me.

Hmm... now I'm looking around... nope. No good luck in sight.

Sure, I closed my eyes, but the Tango takes no prisoners. Either you walk away unscathed or you're all messed up for the remainder of the day.

Apparently I chose option two.

If I could explain to you,
how much I rely on your support,
would you continue to hurt yourself,
and watch my face contort?

Maybe if I showed you,
that I could die without you...

If you could even fathom,
the pain I'm in...

But nothing I say,
has any effect.
You could go either way,
I do expect.

But maybe if I told you,
that your pain wounded me...

If something I said,
showed you what you REALLY mean to me...

If your belt fit your pants,
then you might have a chance,
but nothing you eat,
has meaning.

I know this.
You know this.
It's killing us both.

She lay alone,
her battered arms bare,
bloody and cold,
she has nothing to wear.
She remains motionless,
as still as a rock.
His cold, inhuman face,
a countenance she dared mock.
And she tries to say he loves her,
so she does believe,
how terribly unfortunate,
that she is so naive.
Now how did she allow,
a man to dominate her will?
And so her beatings continue,
I hope next he doesn't kill.

This one won't be about you.
Even though I'm sure,
you think it will be.
But it's not.
Too much paper,
has been wasted on you.
Why go through it all again?
I wish you knew,
but you don't.
And when?
No.
You'll never know.
My pen will know,
before you know.
So it's not.
Not about you,
Unless it's this:
saying it's not.
Because I'm over you,
your staccato moods,
your stubborn blankness,
your shiny countenance.
Your not.
Nothing I thought.
It's not.
Not working,
Not happy,
Not you.
This isn't about you.
"Why?"
You might ask.
My answer:
Because.
It's just not.

I lay in my bed,
Thinking of everything you've said,
Many tears are shed,
Falling to the floor like lead.
And my heart is like a shore,
Feelings ebb and flow across the floor,
You are like that half-open door,
Leaving me just wanting more.
But you won't let my feelings be,
It's like my confusion is something you need,
My contemplation's what you eat,
It's my feelings I don't believe.

By: Jessica Austin
Westford Elementary School, 7

What's the chance,
What you actually believe,
Something totally irrelevant,
A lie only you could weave?
It's something solely you would do,
Something annoyingly concise,
To touch a swollen nerve,
you must be virtuously precise.
Even the smallest details,
You make sure you get them all,
Every single move I make,
Whether i slip, trip, or fall.
But the thing that I hate the most,
About everything you do,
Is that even complex, intricate lies,
End up being true.

A dry patch

By Jessica Austin
Westford Elementary School, 7

The rain dances so
Like flames upon a match
If only I could find
One single dry patch.

By: Jessica Austin
Westford Elementary School, 7

Peace is here,
But in it's way,
Enmity's here,
I have nothing to say.
This is just what I feared,
But I want you to stay,
I refuse to shed tears,
Because you'll be okay.
Even through fights,
I know you wont leave,
Though try as I might,
It's hard to believe.
I know that you're right,
But I feel so naive,
Can you imagine how bright,
You must be,
For my heart takes flight,
When you look at me.

By: Jessica Austin
Westford Elementary School, 7

Maybe it's just me,
But for some reason it seems,
That no matter what I try to be,
I am never quite so esteemed.
So I've decided to forfeit.
You'll go after her, that's it.
I still think you like me a little bit,
If you don't, though, I won't throw a fit.
Because I know I've done my part.
And you have taken my heart.
I've known this from the start,
But this poem's for you, sweetheart.
So you better listen close,
What I say now means the most:
I think it's her you've chose,
Do you count me with your foes?
I realize now that you must.
For all it was, was lust.
I guess I have room to grow,
But I lost a friend that I could trust.