Tag Archives: high school

Worthmont High

It stands

beneath the limbs and

merriments

the canter call of

time

its bricks reach up towards

multi memoried

skies

as intrepid feet

lean forward

push onward

skuttle backwards

laugh and mingle tears

within its soul;

It stands.

It stands

amongts the triumph

and struggle

its cold stone veins

leading the just and

the mightly defeated

in ordered hours

and lingered speeches

in the pursuit of

knowledge

the pursuit of gain;

it stands.

It stands

in silence

a witness to her shuffle

his hesitation

her fixation

his motivation

her courage

his redemtion

to Monday callings

and thursday maulings

to Tuesdays lastness

and Friday’s madness

it stands.

It stands

as its voice goes unnoticed

its brick notes and

roof top melodies

linger a testiment

unspoken to the fortitude

of perserverance

and the suppliment of

faith

For in these halls

little souls stand

and she makes sure

she never falters

never gives sway

for all the comings

and goings of a day

the black the blue

colbalt and shrew

madness and

due of tears

she stands.

For someday

when hands stop lingering

over plastered walls

and paint stops mending

the cracks and fall

ing spaces

when voices stop

and doors weld shut

she will be remembered

for the words

emblazoned on her skin

 

“Knowleldge is found

with open hearts, clasped hands,

and couragous spirits”

 

and

She stands.

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Fire for Sam

She paces with

cadance, attention

and hesitate

in polished shoes

and polished smile

waits

her hands fiddle

with paper pointed pens

eyes lingering over

when

she sat in the desk

just to the left

of wonderment

and infront of

never going to make it

but she made it.

And it is then the

world shift begins

The bell rings

in

a distant past

a mind of 12

and a heart of glass

she scuttled here

every day

in the every way

getaway life

of a nothing girl

the invisible world

of not bad enough

nor good enough

for anyone to notice

a slip through the cracks

girl

a lingering spirit world

girl of just inside doorways

and subsequently out of way

when the Others

paraded by.

Even teachers

professors and mighty

persons failed to

figure her out for

more than a mously

girl with mousely hair

but… fate has a way

of hearing prayers…

fate has a way

of knowing the hearts

of even the smallest

whisper

and her whisper came

in the form of

Ms. Setaworldonfire!

She gleamed when she walked

into the room

a sense of pride

the newly doomed teacher

of English Comp 104

she

swayed to the back and forth

with a smile lingered

on hope and expectation

and plans

of great things

from each and

every

including Sam.

Could it be possible

one soul could reach out

of the darkness

see into the light

what every other eye

had dismissed

diminished by lack of

attention?

Could it be possible

for one hand to write

out the lines of a spark

so sharp

to start a fire in the

places called hopeless

and redefine the meaning

of maybe into a dream

of possibilities?

She straightened herself as

the clock stroked close to 7:50

the sounds of lockers slamming

doorways jamming

the smattering mattering

morphology of the life of school

transforming a building into

a world all its own

and living

began to breath.

Sam began to breath.

As one foot

two then three

until there were more than

thirty

Her smile

lingered back and forth

with expectation

fire made plans

that started in a desk

just to the right of wonderment

and just in front of

never going to make it

but she did.

“My name is Samantha…

This is English Comp 104. 

Yes please, shut the door… 

Shall we begin?”

Kissing Danielle

She keeps to herself

the days linger over

each other in series

of rises and sets

of studies and tests

she is never

really sure if she

is giving her best

and while ‘friends’ gather

near lockers and rooms

she looms

in the background

while she

smiles in the forground

watching

the other pass by

the worn out clothes

slothing shoes

revolving door ways

made for breaking

black and blues

and knows

if they ever

found out

if

ever found

out

She would be

hurrled into a

world of shattering words

shattering bones

shattering this visage

so carefully wrought

thought and messaged

even she wasn’t sure

it wasn’t the truth

it wasn’t the

truth

truth is

every day she sees her

softly walking

talking and meandering

through the blurs of

faces her face is clear

and when she gets near

the

summer sun finds

no shadow

sound finds no

rafters to

beat from

it’s as if the entire

world has fastforwarded

into a slow down

and the camera

is souly devoted

to a downward spiral

until the only image

is her brown eyes

and

then

she

sees

……. for a heart beat

crap! did everyone see?

did everyone know?

they say it gets better

but she is no so sure

because all she wants

to do is scream

I AM NOT WHO I

PRETEND TO BE!

No

she wants

to linger in the follow

of her hearts content

play with a force

of first loves commitment

stand on the precipice of

prom in two dresses

hold hands in the court

of dramaless masses

and be free from

this resereved

stagnated and barely controled

lung forward and speak out

compel

and just not be

afraid

of kissing Danielle

but

if they knew

if they

knew

like brown eyes

did

everything would

be over.

so she

keeps to herself

the days linger over

each other in series

of rises and sets

of studies and tests

she is never

really sure if she

is giving her best

and while ‘friends’ gather

near lockers and rooms

she looms

in the background

while she

smiles in the forground

watching

the other pass by

watching

the other

pass

by.

Charlie’s smile

He mumbles

when he talks

the

wound of his voice

barely reaches the floor

as he searches for

escapes out

on his way down the hall

in too high jeans

and a belt

anchoring him to self

so he doesn’t slip

out of

place.

His hands grip books

covers and shields

deflecting the

pushes, punches

and wielded words

sharper than edges

of the door way

he often finds

himself greeting

every Monday

and Wednesday

at 8:05.

He is brilliant

in his mental

meanderings

of geometry

calculus

and science

his

mind sees puzzles like

diamonds to be

polished

clear and bright

as the bruises he

hides from the

inevitable trip

to the bathroom

trip

to the bathroom

trip in the bathroom

he just tripped

and

he doesn’t complain

he keeps up appearances

as the soles of his feet

keep account of

the days till

he can stand

straighter

be handsome…er

be

important

because

his mother says

he will be

and right now he

still believes her

even as the waves

of every suck the wind

you don’t get in today

you must be gay

because no girl

would want you

lingers at the gate

of his educational

hell

the bell

is

ringing

in his ears on the way

home and if

he walks a little faster

if he

catches the right

canter, carry and case

the Thursday Crew

won’t give chase

the

Thursday crew won’t

chase

wont

chase…

He just tripped in

the bathroom…

And His eyes are blue

like the ocean

in berm-u-da

so

his mother says

as she asks

him each morning

to keep his

head up

and smile,

the world will smile

back

but…

she doesn’t

know…

today is Monday.

It’s Monday…

and

He”ll just trip

in the bathroom.

The Life of Bea

She walks with shuffle

cuffle and flop

in worn out shoes

and worn out tops

her hands are small

pale porcelin envy

eyes of dew drop gray

dream of anything

but life today

She lingers in the back

most hours

clinging to shade

and inconsequential hue

praying to gods

spit, spite, and throttle

forget she exists

as she dreams of anything

but this

Her hair is neat

her glasses new

ish, through which the

world is viewed

in shades of black

purple and blue

her ears are revolving doors

of not good enough

four eyes and hell-bound troll

stupid fucker and

filthy mole who should

NEVER have been born

but

…. there are days

when hands reach out

when voices confront

shove, bite, and anguish

and words of

it will be ok, you are loved

come out to play

be with me and

you ARE beautiful…

when you smile,

whisper on her behalf.

In those moments

she is alive

and reminded

hope exists somedays

though most days

she dreams life is

not today

this is the life of Bea.

this is the life of bea

this is the life of

…..