An influx of darkness shrouds my body As I stare into the gloom I see light Dim shapes pass me as my mind feels dotty Forms enclose upon me clouding my sight My wretched soul stands forever alone It yearns to cross the nefarious path For the dark inside my heart is unknown My figure is haunted by vengeful wrath The ground rips apart as I plunge downward A weightless feeling surges from within My lone spirit tumbles, drifting backward I can feel the end starting to begin For so long my still body was coping So long since my eyes have been wide open
There he was. The same old man Who sat at the park bench every sunny spring morning. I see him on my way to school, Never seen with a frown. Always happy Watching the birds, Giving them bread. Saying hello to strangers who walked by, His trusty wooden cane always close. His wrinkles have seen a lot And have been through ups and downs. I’ve never said a word to this old man. Yet I feel the hardships he’s been through. I feel the pain, but, at the same time, Happiness. As I walked by today, I didn’t just walk by, I sat next to him. He looked at me through his big glasses And in a gentle voice He said “Hello.” “Hello,” I replied. “Why do you sit here every morning, sir?” I asked. He looked at me, in awe of the question. “My wife,” he softly said, as a tear ran down his face. “As she laid on her death bed, The last words she said to me were, “Never lose that smile.” “Her favorite thing to do was feed the birds. As I sit here, I feel her. I’m happy." I looked at the old man With a tear down my own face. I can taste the salt water as the tear hit my lip. This man was strong. This man was an inspiration. “I’ve got to go to class now, take care,” I said in a trembling voice. The next morning I walked by, Wanting to...
“A man is called selfish not for pursuing his own good, but for neglecting his neighbor’s” ~Richard Whately Fortress surrounds my mind Making all that’s around me blocked out, I don’t wish to ignore what’s around me But I have no choice, This invisible wall called ignorance Blocks me from everyone’s problem. The wife brings home a special stew she bought from the market "Eh, let’s eat out." We get into my silver and brand new leather seat car, and I hear my son ask me to put on some pop music But I’m in a country mood so I ignore him, We sit down to eat at my favorite French restaurant With the kids just dying to eat, and my daughter looks at me and says she wants the Parcatta salad Fourteen dollars is too expensive. "No." When we finish eating and are ready to go home, I pay the check as a gentleman should, Feeling like I have done a great thing for the family. I place the money in the check book and start to walk out. The waitress runs after me screaming at me from behind Sir! Sir! You didn’t pay us the right amount, I look in my pockets and I have the money I was going to use to go bowling with my friends. I look to my wife expecting her to pay the extra. She smiles at me, and then starts to walk out with the children I am all out of money...
Aged swings: Those playful days Gathering rust ~Jake Goorno
They beat down upon the window, cold and solitary. Alone at the point of entry. It sticks to the hard plastic, its strong fingers grabbing to hold on. But no matter how hard it fights, it will slide. As it begins its descent down the window, it is alone. Just as it was when it hit the window. I watch as it merges with another and they go together. They cannot hold on. They slide faster now, though they are far from the bottom. The farther they go, the bigger the pile becomes. They are moving at top speeds now. They motor towards the scratch in the window. Collision is inevitable. They smash into the protruding scratch at top speed. Their speed is decimated and they are scattered. Solitary once again, as they began. The journey begins again. A solitary drop gathers followers as before. The only difference is, They have less time to live. The journey continues despite this though. The wet, cold, helpless drops roll down the window. They build up speed, faster and faster, Only now there is nothing to stop them. The pile is gaining on the drop off. Some drops with less companions will hold on to the wood below but not these. These drops are moving too fast. They will hit the bottom of the window like a jump, and be catapulted to the gravel beneath. They are almost to the jump now, they are flying toward it. All seems still as this massive...
It’s not easy to see people get hurt, Yet not all pain appears physically. This sets the entire state on alert. It took many people’s stability, Yet these bombs were far from accidental. All people wanted was a marathon- A feat which would make any man tremble, Yet the explosion made all lose their calm. Police, firemen, and civilians Saved many people, but could not save all. These bursts hurt all mothers, dads, and children. Most sit staring at a hospital wall. True tragedy is never forgotten; Moreover, we remember those fallen.
Distractions are hiding in the corners of every room, on a computer, in a box, in a tree. Distractions can even -- "Oh, what's that?" Never mind. Distractions take us away from work. They are an escape from the job at hand. The simplest objects can be the most distracting But in the end you - "It's still there!" You missed it. I could be sitting in class learning about enzymes when all of a sudden I see a squirrel! Do you see it! - "E.J., answer the question." What question? They can be so interesting at one moment and turn into an enemy the next. they keep me awake, yet keep me away. I will be looking - "Time for dinner!" Pizza!
I am from the quiet Steven Star Lane I am from the back yard swing that lies too low I am from sharpening sticks to spears and climbing too far into the tree I am from cuts from thorn bushes I am from throwing the cat to see if it really lands on its feet And I am from all day just to do nothing I come from a family who cares I come from a sit down dinner every night I come from fighting sisters and parents trying to break it up While I sit in the background trying not to make a sound I come from somehow teaching the dog to play the opposite of fetch And I come from it all being ok in the end I was told to be honest I was told that hard work pays off I was told that if you want something in this life you have to get it And not wait for someone else to do it for you I was told that the world owes me nothing And that I am in charge of my own life.
I shall return. To find myself, Find the others, To change the way I’ve been living, Life is a brutal tale Told by one man, And when you leave You’re gone. How do you change this ruthless society, when your struggling to find true identity. I look into the lucid fog Lifting off the dark water, Then disappearing into the thin air. How do make a difference in such a short life When you’re struggling to find your own voice. And once you finally found it that one man strikes you. But I shall return. Returning to life Isn't coming back from the dead, But returning to yourself. Returning to life Isn't luck But will-- The will to live, To feel, To think,and to speak with a purpose. I shall return again.
I am from Paradise from crashing waves, and palm trees I am from plain white brick, shielding me from the glistening sun I am from Pacific sun to Nor'easters from hot sidewalks to snow banks I am from Petco Park, from funnel cakes and churros I am from the game Risk pleading to finish the game another time I am from the outdoor barbecues a plethora of chicken, hamburger, and steak I am from church on a Sunday morning anxiously waiting for brunch I am from ice cream trucks always lurking on my cul de sac I am from a 3,000 mile road trip two weeks toasting in the swaggin' wagon I am from forgotten friends, to new beginnings I am from summer lacrosse meeting new people and having fun I am from the recurring challenge of transition moving from school to school to school I am from family with constant support and aid Changing and evolving, Living in the present, not the past