It was a very sunny and delightful Saturday afternoon in the middle of September. My grandmother and I were walking to the mall to buy some wool. We first decided to stop by the small convenience store near our home. I asked my granny to sit on the bench in the park to wait for me and I went inside the store by myself. I was a bit worried about her so I kept checking the front door. Every time I turned, I could see her head, but as I moved further into the story she got smaller and smaller. Soon she had disappeared from my sight. I tried to hurry to get back to her. When ready I paid my bill quickly. When I went outside, the bench was empty. My eyes became agitated and my hands started to sweat. I started to conceive all kinds of thoughts, of things that could have happened to her. “Granny! Granny!” I called frantically, my hands shaking. I ran around the park but I couldn’t find her anywhere. My face was getting pale and I couldn’t even stand still. Everyone in the park seemed happy. I looked around, there were some children playing happily and others feeding the birds with their parents. I felt so alone, so isolated; everyone looked happy except me. My feet and body started to shiver with fear. I ran home as fast as I could. I couldn’t even breath. I opened the door quickly and yelled “Granny!!” But there was only silence.
Standing still. I face the large worn, wooden staircase, its age visible in all the dents and scratches randomly scattered. The imperfections in the decadent mahogany tell of hundreds of laughing students. Every scratch is a flashback to the person who did it. His foot lifts to take a step towards the landing, like another step towards the top of this mountain he climbs. His faded denim pants fold at the knees and ankles then release as he takes the next step. A velvety corduroy jacket, the same mahogany colour as the staircase he stands on, moves in time with his swinging arms. Another step, the opposite arm swings. Another step and another. His head bobs then rises with his every step blocking some sunlight from the large window he faces. The other rays wrap around every part of him. They shine through his wispy, thin blonde hair, angelically. Through the gap between his arms and his body, by his ears, over his shoulder. The light finds every space around him to shine through and then escape. He reaches the top of the staircase; this moment he stands still, gently glowing.
How to breathe, in this life.
Is not free, I cannot see
The clearing amongst
The trees. The breeze sweeps me up
And leaves me
A moment too soon.
Nothing is certain to be true.
And it’s you.
The stars leave me
Love in the midnight hour.
The passion in my heart
Is so far, out of reach.
I taste the air, and I wonder,
Have you breathed this air I breathe?
Have you touched the wind,
That wraps its grip around my hand?
Are you smiling in this exact moment, this
Moment that I am?
And he sees my frown.
He sees the thought that
Creases my brow.
Well, I wonder what’s true.
God only knows
What’s meant for me and you?
Floor boards creak under the heavy weight of pounding feet. Voices fly through the air, filling every available space with complaints, laughter, and conversations that only make sense to the people having them. Waves of students crash down the stairs, only growing bigger as classrooms empty. Shoulders brush, books almost drop, people lightly shove others out of the way. Everything moves at a snail’s pace, giving the smell of sweat, and scented products too heavily applied time to climb into noses. The bell rings, attempting to attract the students’ attention, although the closing doors behind them do a much better job of it. The barren hallway waits with silent floor boards and empty air.
My eyes open to a blinding light. I lie on a cool, flat surface. I jolt when hands grab my head, and thick fingers press against my cheeks. A voice complains about it being too rough. The meaty hands jerk away to be replaced with soft, light hands, stroking my hair. That same voice whispers something to me. I can’t make out exactly what they tell me. The only words I hear clearly are struggle, hurt, and scream. I open my mouth to ask them what they said. Four masked faces appear above me. A gloved hand rises, and slowly advances towards my left eye, holding a thin metal tool. I turn my head away only to have it pulled right back. Those hands stop stroking my hair. Nails dig into the sides of my head. More hands pin down my legs and arms before I get the chance to struggle. The tool rests in front of my eye, the sharp tip so close it blurs. I hold my breath. A voice gives the order I’ve been fearing. “Begin.”
She pauses at the end of the hallway looking at the dull navy blue walls that blend perfectly with her school uniform. She continues to take small steps towards the big wooden mahogany door, feeling the bright cherry red carpet squish underneath her shoes with the weight of her footsteps. When she opens the door all she sees is the Virgin Mary looking down upon her from the stain glass window. From the distance Mary’s dress is an exquisite shade of blue; it reminds her of the ocean. Nothing but silence can be heard, like waves crashing ashore. She begins to walk towards the window. With a single step she can hear the worn out wooden floors beneath her creek and crack. The pale yellow walls remind her of innocence. She takes one last glance around the room, feels her bold black eyelashes curl together as she blinks. Walking swiftly to the door, she opens it one last time. As she walks out, she hears it slam shut as she scurries back to class. Suddenly, the obnoxious sound of the school bell penetrates through her head. And the silence of the chapel fades away in the distance.
He’ll Never Know –
I want to run, I want to hide.
From all the pain he caused inside.
I want to scream, I want to cry.
Why can’t I tell him Goodbye?
I want to move on, I just can’t let go.
I love him more than he will ever know.
I want to start over, I want to feel free!
But this pain will never leave me be.
He hurt me bad, the pain is deep.
From all the promises he couldn’t keep.
All the lies, I heard him say.
Are in my head and just won’t fade.
How can I forget him, leave him behind.
Erase the memories from my mind.
He doesn’t love me, and he never will.
He will never care, how I feel.
Personal Response Reflection:
This poem is about a girl that fell in-love with a guy and she wanted him to love her the way that she loved him, but through the process of trying to make that work, she became devastated and heart broken because of all of the lies, pain, broken promises, and tears that he had caused her. When I first read this poem I put myself in the place of the girl in the poem because she was the main focus and I have felt some of the feelings before that she discusses in this piece, so I felt it was very easy to connect with her on that level as the victimized character. On the other hand I did not come to think of it very much, but I am also like the boy in this poem. Maybe not to the same extent that she describes him as but I definitely have hurt people in my past and told lies and broke promises, so it made me have the realization that I do have an effect on peoples lives and even though they may not portray them in public it could still effect them on the inside. This poem also made me realize two very important things from each of the characters. First is that some people take things for granted and don’t see what they’re passing up on and in doing so hurt people to a very extensive level. Second is that not all dreams do come true, but in saying that some dreams have to be broken to reach the bigger ones.
Ode To Buddy The Puffin
Cheerful, like children on Christmas day
Bringing joy and excitement all around
Not a word he will say
He doesn’t ever make a sound
With a beak of red, yellow, and grey
Off he goes, hockey game bound
On the railings, he loves to lay
When the other team scores he stomps hard on the ground
Taking pictures with fans, home and away
Fist-bumping fans; Pound!
His jersey has colors of white and blue
The number he wears proudly is ninety two
He’s black and white, head to toe
His cheeks the color of new fallen snow
On the ice he goes as part of the crew
My favorite mascot, yes it is true
The way he walks has quite the flow
And the way he dances and gets so low
If only you knew
All the wonderful things he does, imagine if he flew!
My favorite things would be his hugs
And the warm feelings he brings to all
His height is most impressive too
His fluffy hands clapping together
His actions are kind, sweet as a muffin
The other team laughs, he just shrugs
Looking down on the fans, standing tall
His love for hockey oh so true
Coming out to support, whatever the weather
Full of happiness and pride—Buddy The Puffin
“I am moving through the crowd” – Italian Sonnet
I am moving through the crowd
Trying to find myself
Just like a doll left on a shelf
Slowly watching the shadows that enshroud
Your life plays out
On the shadows on the wall
And you turn on the light, to erase it all
Everything much too full of doubt
There is no love for life
Albeit there is much room for frustration
It is strife
I must get through it all with great determination
Yes, it shall all come to light, my life
I have a sudden burst of elation…
Ode to Horses
Why do I like horses? I think I must be going mad. My mother isn’t horsey –
And neither is my dad.
But the madness hit me early – and it hit me like a curse. And
It’s never gotten better. In fact It’s gotten worse.
My stables are immaculate. My house is like a hovel.
Last year for my birthday – I got a brand new shovel.
I hardly read the paper – but I know who’s sold their horse.
And I wouldn’t watch TV – Unless Heartland was on – of course.
One eye’s always on the heavens -but my washing waves in vain
As I rush to get the horses in – in case it’s going to rain.
And though they’re wearing 15 rugs, the best that you can get,
I bring them in to keep them dry – while I get soaking wet.
I spend every cent I’ve got – on horsey stuff for sure
I buy saddles, bridles, fancy rugs – and then I buy some more.
I should have had my hair cut – or bought that nice blue shirt
At least it wouldn’t now look ripped to shreds and in the dirt
I can’t make a sponge cake -I don’t even try
But I can back a truck and trailer – in the twinkling of an eye.
It’s jeans and Muck Boots that I live in night and day
And that smell of horses just doesn’t wash away.
Once every now and then I dress up for a ball
Make up and a hairdo – with high-heeled shoes and all.
I ache from now long forgotten falls. My knees have got no skin.
My toes have gone a funny shape – from being squashed again.
But late at night, when all is still – and I’ve gone to give them hay,
I feel their velvet softness and my worries float away.
They give a gentle nicker and they nuzzle through my hair
And I know it’s where my heart is – more here than anywhere