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Mar 22


Because I am graduating this year it finally hit me that I'd have to leave and I had a crisis about it, so I wrote a poem about it.

I used to be embarrassed to say that I am from Winooski. 
I would lie, hide, do whatever I could to disguise it.
And point out every flaw I could to try to distance myself if I was ever found out. 
As we are honing in on these last few months,
Where soon I will actually have to leave,
I don't want to. 
It has recently dawned upon me how much this school and community has had an impact on who I am and who I will become once my tassel goes right to left and I exit these doors once and for all.
So I suppose I'm writing this as a thank you. 
Thank you to the student body, teachers, administration, everybody that has seen me cry and heard me say hundreds of times that all I want to do is fail and drop out, but then taking me over and over, and helping me succeed. 
Mar 14

Clear Nights

Late at night
When the moon is out
And the stars are bright
I sit here
Enjoying the cool air
And the sounds of darkness
My eyes always transfixed on the sky
Marveling at its beauty
At times like this
I'm grateful for solitude
The void in me is filled
And I'm alone but not lonely
Nature has a way of calming me
And teaching me to relax
And forget about humanity
If only for a little while

Mar 13
poem 1 comment challenge: General
Layjmo's picture

So the River has Begun

So the river has begun
It’s flowing ever onward
Setting like the sun
On a time when we were stronger

It’s flowing ever onward
Impossible to control
On a time when we were stronger
Before we got stuck in this hole

Impossible to control
Moving much too rapidly
Before we got stuck in this hole
About to reach catastrophe

Moving much too rapidly
Though fate still rests in our own hands
About to reach catastrophe
It’s hard not to do what the universe commands

Though fate still rests in our own hands
Setting like the sun
It’s hard not to do what the universe commands
So the river has begun
Mar 12
hathawar's picture

The path

As I was walking down the path that was next to my house,
Wondering where it would come out, where would I be
Right in the middle of the path was a tree, not an ordinary tree, it was an extraordinary tree.
It had beautiful pink flowers on it, and when the wind came through, the flowers came down like rain.
It was such a beautiful sight, 
With all the leaves falling in showers, I could stand there for hours.

I walk along that path every day and when I get to the tree I stay.
I have never walked to the end of the path to see where it would go.
I told my family about the tree; it made them laugh,
“Oh no,” they said, “I have never seen a tree on that path.”

So every day when I see the tree
I think of how wonderful it is that it only shows itself to me.
Mar 12

A Modern Master of Denial

You made Science your God,
idolized in golden buildings
and gilded books.
You were called upon to serve;
you burnt the Bible inked in your own hand
in the blinding flames of fear.

You made Science your servant,
you rode upon its strong shoulders,
gorged on its produce,
enslaved it to your all-consuming want and need.
When this chosen Herald brought a message
of distaste,
you dismissed it with a wave of your unhardened hand.

You made Science your Guardian,
swaddled in its calculated folds,
your life was insured by the majesty of medicine.
It monitors your very breath and heartbeat,
yet when when the warning is displayed,
your well-washed ears become deaf to 
even the shrillest siren.

You made Science your companion,
placing your hopes in its ever-growing grasp;
Confided dreams stacked like friendship bracelets
Mar 12

Beautiful Force of Nature

She was beautiful, but in a different sort of way.

A sort of way that made the ground tremble before her.
The oceans part when she tells them to,
the sky breaks open when she yells.

When she smiles the world smiles too,
releasing a rainbow and sun rays.
When her boots touch the ground worms make their way up
to the surface to try to get a glimpse of her.
Birds follow her, trying to get her to sing their song.
Deer find themselves mesmerized, not unlike being caught
in the blinding light of the sun.

She was beautiful, people say.
But people don't often see all there is.
She was beautiful, they were right about that.
But she was something else, too. Something stronger.

She was a force of nature.

Mar 12
Woolg's picture


The rumbling was starting to get to me. The sound of the trees falling and the house that I've grown up in for these past 14 years, crumbling beneath our feet.
“To the basement!” barked my mom.
“What? Why-” I started.
“NOW,” my mom said with building fury.
I ran upstairs and grabbed my favorite blanket.
“Avery!” my mom yelled up the stairs. “We don’t have time for this right now. Go to the basement, NOW!”
I realized that this wasn’t any type of joke. This. Was. Real.
“Honey? Come down please,” my mom said with a worried voice.
I snapped out of my daze, grabbed everything I could and, being careful to not drop anything, sprinted downstairs to the embrace of my mom. My mom and my little brother followed me down the stair to the so-called, “Hurricane Hangout.” When we got inside, my mom locked the steel door, making sure it wouldn’t open to keep us safe for the span of the many, many hours ahead of us.
Mar 09
Auggie Cat's picture

The Day I Was Okay

I was asked when I was last okay
A simple question for most
Yet I had no answer

I thought to Before
When my world was stable
Yet then I was not okay

I couldn't remember
Not a time
Or a place
Or a feeling

And then I took a chance
Thought about the worst thing that could happen
Then realized I had already faced that

So I was soon surronded by smiling kids
Who wanted my attention
Not caring of my problems

When they at last went to bad
I sat on the couch
And realized that I was okay
Mar 09


Mar 08
fiction 0 comments challenge: Woods
Jen L.'s picture

The Talking Woods

Have you heard of the place called The Talking Woods? It’s a very mystical place. People say the trees in those woods talk. Some are mean, some are nice; it all depends on what type of tree it is. The first person who ever went there and noticed it was a child. Here is his story.

    One day James was playing by the woods when he heard someone shout,

“Watch it or you’ll snap one of my branches off! And that doesn’t feel too pleasant.” James jumped back. He had no clue who said that and he couldn’t see anybody for miles. The voice was kind of hollow, like it was vibrating through a pipe. It sounded in the middle of squeaky and deep.

“I’m over here,” shouts the voice again. It came from behind James, so he turned around but only saw the woods. Then he noticed a face in one of the pine trees, or at least it looked like a face. It was staring at him and he was staring back.