Lost Cousin

It was the fourth of July a day that has been celebrated with my cousins and close friends for years.   A day where my cousin and I would hang out even though he was seven years older than me.  We were really close i wish we were still that close.  I wish we could still set off fireworks together and laugh and be dangerous.  But he has grown up and is married and has kids so he doesn't talk to me any more.  He left me alone and he doesn't even know how that makes me feel.  He doesn't have time for me the only time he will talk to me is to ask where my parents are.  It's like he has forgotten about me as if I'm a ghost now.  As if i'm not even around any more.   

If I could spend just one more fourth of July with my cousin like we used to I totally would in a second.  The day would start like any other forth with us playing wii sports .  I know that sounds weird but it was like tradition.  Basically we would try to make each other screw up.  It would be full of laughs and cussing and we would try to avoid breaking anything.  We wouldn't want a repeat of the time we broke a glass bowl.   After playing wii for what seemed like hours but was barely two we would by the fireworks.  We would go buy all the fireworks together at the stand across from the Catholic Church.  We would spend a lot of money there like over a hundred dollars.  Once we got back to my house we would set off the fireworks that you can’t really do at night, like the smoke bombs, and the little ones you throw and we would somehow start throwing them at each other.  I got a couple scars from that.  

Once we were finished with the day fireworks we would go eat hamburgers, hotdogs, potatoes and macaroni salad.  This was always my favorite meal.  We would talk about life as we ate and how high school or college was going depending on the year.   

Once night came that was when the fun would start.  We would set up this big firework show tieing all the wicks together to make the artilleries go off at the same time. All my family members would watch with a big smile.  Once the wick was lit we would run away and watch fireworks explode in the sky.  We would be laughing and smiling and he would hug me saying I was his favorite cousin.  I wish this could happen again but i doubt it ever will.   I'm just a younger cousin now nothing more.  

~Justine

My Grandpa's Chair

¨ Someday you will be Miss America my dear.¨

¨ But grandpa we just ate a whole bag of puffy cheetos.¨

¨Only real Miss Americas can have a little chub on them.¨

The soft reassuring sound of your Grandpa´s voice

In a soft cozy chair.

What could be better?

At 4 years old she'd beg to go to Grandpas house,

Just so her and Gramps could sit and watch cartoons,

In Grandpa's chair.

Christmas was on its way and the whole family was there,

But not Lauren and Grandpa.

They were downstairs drinking hot cocoa,

In Grandpa's chair.

The endless stories and life lessons that little girl learned,

All in Grandpa's chair.

She's all grown up now,

With sports, boyfriends, and school,

But yet she never forgets about grandpa.

At the age of 15 she was playing softball right in Grandpa's town,

Playing the game she loves, with every ounce of effort she has

Results in some scrapes and bruises.

Grandma spoils her head to toe

And cleans her all up.

Soon after we all know where Lauren and Grandpa are,

Sleeping in Grandpa's chair.

A day full tears for Lauren's fall sport season has come to an end by injury,

Only calls for one thing.

A day of rest with Grandpa in his chair.

It's time for thanksgiving,

All the cousins and boyfriends gather around for grandmas big feast.

You can tell which boyfriend's are new

because they sat in the wrong chair.

Don't you worry though, Grandpa put an end to that.

Grandpas heart was so full of love

That eventually it had to stop.

¨ Life is full of love my dear, make sure you find it in the right things.

Succeed in what you love. Thank you for all the time we've spent. I love you¨

Although your time has passed Grandpa,

The memories in your chair won't.

Don't you worry Gramps I will keep it warm for you,

Until next time.

-LEH

Stolen

Oh lovely metaphors,

What’s the good word?

I can detect whenever someone is using you.

Emotion is the blue hue.

Who let the cat out of the bag?

The cat was in a bag?!

It’s good the cat is out,

He didn’t deserve to be in there.

One chica was in a restaurant the other day.

She overheard that one person got stabbed in the back -

Why didn’t anyone call the police?

Someone else hit the books -

This must be an American phenomenon?

But why did the burly biker dude try to find a cold turkey?

Oh English, you feisty black sheep of the world,

Stop stealing other country’s vocabulary and making everything complicated.

~Ann Marie

Pulchritudinous

I take myself to many places

The Rocky Mountains

Another place where the sun warms my skin, but not too much

Sometimes I even put myself in the middle of a winter storm, surrounding myself with pure white

But my most favorite place of all is a meadow

It has tall, yellow grasses

And trees surround it, except on one side

That side has tall, snow-capped mountains

And it’s beautiful

In the middle, a small shack sits, the mountains are its background

It’s nothing fancy

Really, it might even be considered creepy,

But to me, it holds beauty

Once upon a time someone lived there

They saw what I saw in such a quiet, quaint place

It’s wondrous

I can hear a stream somewhere off in the woods

The wind blows a bit, but it gives no harsh bite

I let the grass slip through my fingers as I walk towards the shack

My bare feet travel over the cool dirt, allowing me to be closer to Mother Nature

I step on the first step of my shack, and it creaks under my weight

It’s comforting, just like the rest of my world

Sometimes I become sad when I realize I can’t show you exactly what it looks like

Then I remember that that’s okay, because maybe I should be selfish and keep it for myself

Just once.

-B

Feeling

I woke up not feeling the hunger eating at my stomach

I stumbled out of bed slamming my toe into the wall but not knowing

Brushing my hair too much once again it rips out

As the bloody toothpaste runs down the drain I realize I overdid it again

I throw on my clothes and run down the stairs

Turning on the stove I don’t feel the subtle heat

I put the skillet on and I can’t feel the oil popping it’s burning my skin once again

I quickly eat the egg as it scalds my tongue but I don’t know that

Running out the door I trip and scrap open my knees

Jumping back up I hop in my car and drive to work

Everyone stares as I walk in

Running to the bathroom I look in the mirror

I see my caved in stomach

My swollen toes poking out of my sandal

The patches of hair missing from my head

My teeth stained red

The angry red blisters on my arms

Blood running down my legs

But I couldn’t feel any of this happen
-L.Sue

Sticks & Stones

Blood is red

Bruises are blue

My body & mind have their own cuts too

My mind is a steel trap

It seems I am inside

In it’s depths I try to hide

Words fail to describe

So a smile passes my lips

With hands trembling at my hips

Yesterday still haunts me

I might just crack & break

Nevermind, I’ll be fake for my mental sake

They can’t know, They won’t know

It wouldn’t matter anyway

Seems I’m just something to throw away

So remember this as my life starts to flicker

Sticks and stones may break my bones

But a crowbar would do it so much quicker


~Yours Truly

Lost in time

I wake up on a crisp December morning,
wishing to see the lights sparkling on the Christmas tree.
I imagine what it would be like to witness the blizzards that roll through town.
Or to see the fresh snow afterwards that twinkles in the sunlight.

It's now spring, which means bright flowers are blooming.
In my head I create a picture of what I think they would look like.
When I walk outside I feel my shoes dampen from a puddle,
I tilt my head down to look, but I can't see my reflection.

As I sit outside on the front porch I'm told to go inside because it will be dark soon.
The summer sun is setting.
But to me it's always dark, even on the hottest days when everyone stays inside.
In my mind I envision myself stargazing on top of a giant hill, in the back of a pickup.

I'm  alone, I don't know quiet where I am,
until I hear leaves crunching underneath my feet, and smell a trace of pumpkin.
My family is carving them at the park, which I cannot do on my own without help.
I accept that, but that doesn't mean I can't dream about what mine would look like.

Its December again, and another year has gone by.
Another year in which I get to choose what I see,
because it's all in my mind.

~R.N.

And You thought being blind was a disability

You called her disabled.

That what she had was just a ¨ disability¨.

¨She can't even look in mirror.¨

But yet she saw more than anyone that could see could.

She saw beneath the skin, beneath the pretty faces, beneath the cute clothes.

It hurts her that she can't see the ones she loves.

She won't ever get to see her children's accomplishments,

Or the look of her father's face as she walks onto the stage to receive her diploma.

All her big sports dreams are just gone.

She won't see her once home run to win the game, that is now just a blur.

Just a big black dark screen.

Her beautiful paintings now become blobs on a piece of paper.

You'll tell her it's beautiful but what she can't see is the lying on your face,

The quiver of your lip, as you try to tell yourself you're only helping her.

But once again you treat her as if being blind was a disability.

You'll make yourself feel good and invite her to all your slumber parties,

But then you'll throw in the question ¨ does my outfit look good”,

Just to make sure you got your joke in for the night.

You think you're bringing her down,

But yet she can't see you.

And that's not because she's blind,

It is because she's too strong for her ¨disability¨ faze her.

But that was beauty of it.

You think she can't see because she is blind.

But what you can't see is how her disability makes her whole life just a little better.

She doesn't care what she looks like in the morning when girls are taking 2 hours to get ready.

She replays her home run in her head over and over again

because her imagination is greater than the mind.

She finds true friends that get over the fact that she is blind.

She will fall in love with someone not by his looks,

But by his heart.

By being unable to see, it lead her into a world of amazing smell and feelings.

A world of so many different sounds.

She could hear you all call her different,weird, unusual, eye catching.

She heard the jokes and she felt your sympathy.

But what she did not feel for was the world disability.

You all said she had a ¨disability¨, but what she had was the ability to do what most can't.

For being blind was no disability.

By: LEH

I Would Rather Not Hear...

It's quiet but also cold.

Seeing mouths moving but no word.

Nothing I can't hear anything.

What has happened?

I can see people screaming, crying.

I run I run as fast as i can.

I make it to the street and catch my breath.

A car swerves away so it doesn't hit me.

I didn't even know it was coming.

The car horn was silent as if broken.

I couldn't hear it….

Please help me I can't hear!

I yell or at least i think i'm yelling.

Maybe it's good i can't hear?

I can't hear the screams maybe this is a good thing?

I can see people screaming, crying, and broken.  I couldn't hear it.....the screams.

~Justine

The Disappointing Poem

Roses are red.
Violets are violet.
Some poems rhyme.
This one does not.

~S1!

“No sound?”

Waking up normally, until I realize I woke up on my own without my mom yelling at me or my alarm going off.

It was 7:45, forty-five minutes after I usually wake up, my mom had already left for work

“No sound?” I ask to myself, I hear nothing

I go to school, wondering what would make my body do this

I arrive, I see people talking to me but I only see moving lips

I try to talk to them but they only turn their head like a curious dog

The whole day is weird, I can’t understand why I just went deaf

I take the most silent walk back home

I try to say hi to my family, my parents look at me like I'm just doing weird things again, I hear no barks, I hear no voices talking back, I can’t hear anything!

“No sound?”

I go upstairs, seeing what it's like to play video games

I can't communicate with others or hear sound effects I can’t hear my music!

I can’t believe it, my life has changed, and I’m hopeless to reverse it

I tell myself as a final reassurance  “No sound.” as tears drown my face

-nuggs

My Story

I run my fingers through my hair and feel that excruciating pain.
I broke down and picked them, chewed them, and murdered them.
At this point it isn't even worth having nails - all they cause is pain.
They are a temptation, an outlet of nervous boredom.
The callouses in my palms are torn.
I can barely grip a pencil without wincing.
How? Anxiety.
When it takes over, some might get hot, sweaty, even stinky,
But I freeze, I shake, but my hands always find a way to pick at themselves.
They say the eyes are the gateway to the soul - it's lovely, isn't it?
The hands are the second gateway.
Look at my hands - they don't seem too bad.
But you can tell how someone lives by looking at them.
Their life story is right in front of you, you just have to look.

~Ann Marie

Enraptured

The music playing was the sound of silence

Notes dance around the room with violent ferocity, stroking the ears of those who dared to listen

“Carpe animo” it whispers

“Seize the mind”

It smelled like a meadow in the center of a forest

This was only because it was what the audience wanted, not because of the music itself

It was unpleasantly beautiful

Her fingers flitted across the keys, the coolness of the ivories slipping underneath them

At one point, Hales lost the plot, causing the music to be more rushed and painful than before

Finally, it returned to the twilight, making the stars dance

Notes once again danced around the room with all the grace and beauty of a weeping willow

The piano knew things

Everyone who had ever touched it had told their secrets to him

They all had spread their mind dust across his keys

The imaginative humans of music had all been graced by his presence

Each person will be back, even if they think they won’t

They will come back, ready to spill their lives over each of the 88 keys

To him, their secrets smelled like rain and tasted like a cool glass of water on a summer day

Even Billy Joel had delicately slammed the piano’s keys, making the music sound like a carnival

Back then, in Vienna, the piano had been new, with grand sounds and gorgeous legs

The world believed in him, and he had believed in the world

Now, he believed in nothing

Now, he believed that no one would ever come back

Now, he knew he would sit alone on that grandiose stage, playing memories to empty velvet seats.

-B

Notes Around The House

Waking up at 7:10

Do the dishes

Vacuum the living room

Cash my check

Sweep the kitchen floor

At the farm

Turn off the oven

Mow the lawn

Get stuff ready for school

Leaving at 9:00

-A.M.