Archive for October, 2013

Childhood is… by Lexi Morgan

Posted: October 24, 2013 by Lexi in LexieM, Uncategorized

Childhood is messy faces.
Childhood is piles of stuffed animals in the living room.
Childhood is picking dandelions like roses.
Childhood is watching a mother leave in a yellow-checkered car through tear-misted eyes.
Childhood is little plastic cars speeding down a hill.
And Childhood is being strong for the ones who can’t anymore.

Hopeless but hoping

Posted: October 24, 2013 by hannahmarie64 in HannahW

I wonder about silly things,
like if birds like to fly or if they’d rather swim.
I hear confused people,
always being quickest to judge.
I see what people want me to see,
because they’re never who they seem to be.
I want things to be simple sometimes,
but then I miss the complications

I pretend most people aren’t really there,
because sometimes, that’s the only way to be content.
I feel like everyone’s lost puppies,
looking for their owner, or a sense of direction.
I touch the books that’s been left behind,
containing a story that I will spend hours reading
I worry that one day we’ll all be forgotten,
then I remember that’s how it’ll be for everyone
I cry because the only person that understood,
isn’t here to tell me it’s okay

I understand you get what you give
I say hopeless but hoping
I dream about making a difference
I try to help as much as I can,
because I know how it feels to think you’re alone
I hope that one day I could save a life,
just like someone saved mine
and if I am not yet strong enough to do so
I will die trying.

When I was Young

Posted: October 24, 2013 by skylar1314 in SkylarP

When I was young at my nana’s house, my nana had a freshly cooked five star meal prepared for me upon arrival every day.

I followed up dinner with a birthday party with an orange cupcake with a single candle stuck in one of the icing loops for a cake. This was not a rare occasion.

I hid under the table in order to eat icing and sugar raw from their containers, no matter how many times my nana warned me that I’d get worms.

When I was young at my nana’s house, summers found me in the back yard hurling brightly colored water balloons as hard as my little arm could handle at my aunt, who was always a good sport.

I used to be an animal expert in that back yard, chasing lizards and chipmunks and hopping the fence to her neighbor’s yard just so I could play with her little Chihuahua, Pippy.

When I was young at my nana’s house, summers also found me on the lonely road that passes by her front yard. The tires of my old bike with the tasseled handle bars know every inch of that road.

Scooby-Doo existed, not only on TV, but in my real life. Each day that old road found me assuming the persona of Daphne Blake, while my loving aunt took directions very well from a small young girl.

At the end of the day, when her neighbor’s grandson was in town, the fireflies knew they had better run, or we were gonna capture them all in recycled jam jars.

When I was young at my nana’s house, I never was bored. My imagination ran wild, and so did I. But no matter where in the world I thought I was, I never forgot where I was really standing: on the sacred ground of my childhood.

Yellow and Gray by Lexi Morgan

Posted: October 24, 2013 by Lexi in LexieM, Uncategorized

I guess I’d say I’m gray-
Is that really that bad?
I’m soft and thoughtful,
And I’d like to think I’m comforting,
But who am I to say?
I guess I’m also yellow, though.
All nervous, self-aware, and shy.
Some people see yellow as positive,
But why, I wonder, can’t I?
It makes me antsy,
That outlandishly bright color.
That might be because I’m gray.
But in my personal opinion,
I’d take gray any day.

Posted: October 24, 2013 by shelbeebalentine in Uncategorized

Sometimes I guess love isn’t enough. No matter how hard you try, love doesn’t always make everything perfect. Love will never be perfect, ever. A person can only take so much, and I completely understand that. I used to believe love could change everything, make everything better. But after so much I think your heart starts to realize the person is better off without you. If they cared, they would’ve never left. Love can make you so vulnerable. Right now, they just don’t need you like you need them. That’s the problem with love, it’s not promised that the other person will ever feel the same way. You can’t make that happen, no matter how bad you want it, or how hard you try. I just don’t understand how one person can put so much into somebody and have so much emotion and the other have so little. Maybe their afraid to love you like you love them. Love is seriously a scary thing it can mess you up completely. You let someone else take completely control of your happiness. And once they walk away, you’re lost like you don’t even know who you are. It’s crazy how even after that point they still have a hold on you, you couldn’t bare moving on because that means letting go of them completely. Even if they aren’t there, at least something was. It’s better than feeling nothing in your heart, right? Letting go isn’t about blocking memories, or thinking sad thoughts. Letting go is having the courage to accept change, and the strength to keep moving. Letting go is part of growing up.

When I Was Young

Posted: October 24, 2013 by haleykw2015 in HaleyW

When I  was young in the house I sat by the door with Jesse

waiting, everyday, on my dad to come home from work.

He smelled like a strong man and laughed as we grabbed his legs;

Mom ignored us because she was jealous.

When I was young in the house I sat by the kitchen window.

I leaned against it and watched all our cats roam around;

I tried to look at other people and places but I was too far away.

When I was young in the house I slept on my mamaw’s couch.

It was hard to fall asleep but I had to,

there was a new school to attend the next day.

Her bathroom always smelled like aged makeup, and floor cleaner.

I was then tall enough to see myself in mirror.

When I was young in the house I ran off the bus everyday in order to be safe.

I jumped on the porch, with its blue chipping paint falling off as the wind blows.

Mom and mamaw would sometimes wait to see me come in the door.

When I was young in the house I wouldn’t unpack my things.

I never knew what the next day was going to bring;

mom was there less and less.

It was hard to decide where to go until I no longer had a choice.

When I was young in the house I had to make the best of it,

If I didn’t I would cause a problem.

Sometimes it worked out that way, there was always a problem.

It was winter, and I had to move one last time;

the people are cold like the air and hard like the frozen dirt.

When I was young on the mountain, I wandered through the grass with my brother. We picked dandelions like roses, and our grandma treated them like roses when we gave our bouquets to her.

When I was young on the mountain, my grandma said, “Wink at me!” My brother and I closed both our eyes.

When I was young on the mountain, I sang happy birthday to everyone all at once from a high chair stained orange from spaghetti sauce.

When I was young on the mountain, I didn’t worry so much. I just picked flowers and sang with my mother.