A Variety of Work

During our first semester classes, students worked hard to create writing that was both readable and listenable without compromising craft or performance. Students were asked to select the work they most wanted to appear here.

Shooting the Stars Anna F

The stars they drip down
in the night,
a wonderful wave of soundless light
They land and flower
in your mind,
burning away the
cold and unkind.
But, they don’t stop there
because, for them,
to deep in your heart
is buried the gem.
They pull and tear
at what is you.
Uncoil the strings,
unstuck the glue.
They make you quiet,
they make you cold,
they steal your mirth
and make you old.
Turn away from the fire
return to the ground.
The one that comforts you
safe and sound.

One Hand Brian R

Her hand
Touches
Mine
My hand
Touching
Hers.

Her hand
On
Mine
My hand
On
Hers.

Her hand
In
Mine,
My hand
In
Hers.

Her hand
Around
Mine
My hand
Around
Hers.

Our hands
Touching, on, in , around
Each other’s
Our hands
Becoming
One hand.

Relating One Event to All My Live Devin R

Remembering the joy that filled my ears
was once a pleasant journey.
Now, it’s a reminder of lost innocence
accompanied with the sting of pain
The parade of lights crowding Main Street
only brings back memories that trigger nostalgia.
I jump and clap to the beat of the drums
excited to see Mickey and Minnie marching with the band.
My mother yells, “Look!” But the figure of a man blocks my view.
My father rids me of the disappointment
that came over my heart,
by lifting me to his shoulders.
The heat is so overwhelming, but the excitement is even more so.
This contentment, this freedom, this innocence
is now lost to the depth of the years.
But the care and commitment is present.
My guardians forever protect me
from the evil hungers of this world.

Sick and Tired Bre’Shey K

I’m screamed at
and misunderstood.
My heart is hurting
this pain is unbearable.

This poisonous love
or “hatred of words”
has tortured all hearts
that could’ve been pure.

And I’m exhausted
tired
sick and tired.

Pulling me one way and
then the other.
Pulled by one who loves me
all of me.
And one who loves me
just very differently.

Pulled so much
I think I might break
piece by piece, I will no longer have existence.

And I’m tired of explaining.
Explaining who I am.
Why do I need approval
to be what I am?

Pulling my heart
has made me cold.
Colder than your last frost bite
that’s dying for mending.

But the last tear has formed
rolling down my face
dying at my lips.
Freeing all restraints
that give me so much pain.

And I’m sick and tired
just
sick and tired!

Untitled Noni B

Running down the street and there ain’t no other. Wind whipping past my face
and looking like I’m ready to have it. See you and yet you ignore me. I touch you and you resist… I look at you… you look away. I love you but you’re not in love today. I cry now and you wake me from my dreams…I’m crying now and you hold me in your arms…you say you love me but love isn’t what it seems because we just broke up and now you’re laying here with me in my dreams.

Darkened Love Tasha W

I sing softly, you come slowly
hesitant of what may happen
I reach out for you, ready for your warmth.
You hold back, not prepared for love.
I cry between shouts for your one-sided love.
You back into the darkness from where you came.
I soak my heart with pain, hoping for it to dry.
Alone again.

A Confused 5th Grade Face Maleia R

A confused 5th grade face,
a broken heart that bleeds tears.
Lost, confused, dazed.
Can’t understand, why not?
Why not what?
A confused 5th grade face,
watches running, screaming, fear pain.
Screaming in the mouths of many
fear in eyes of many
pain in the hearts of many.
Why?
Because they don’t like us.
Who?
Them.
Well why?
Why not?
A confused 5th grade face
isn’t so confused anymore.
We’re different, they hate us,
They weaken us.
How?
By killing us.
By crashing our own planes into our own buildings.
Why?
Why a confused 5th grade face?
Because she was coming to learn hatred.

Treasured Amber J

Spreading the icing atop our cupcake of romance
tucking it away in the compartment of my heart aptly name, “Love.”
Christened with the blood of lambs and holy water.
Thicker than the decomposing Egyptian kinds of yester years.
Hiding a 9mm in case I get mugged
‘cuz what I own is priceless.
Footsteps trace my own
While a trail of ribbons guide me to him
“X” marked the spot.
And while boom boxes blast temptation from every direction
I just cross my heart, hope to live and lock my “Love” compartment
Until I give him the golden key.

Pinochet Francisca R

So you think I’m making such a big deal about this? Let it go? I don’t think so.
Abandon the stage? Yeah, you’d like that. We know what happened to all those people. Missing? I doubt it. You’ve tried to hide the truth and you ended up like them, 8 meters buried underneath the land you tore apart. Families you destroyed, still devastated by the news they once received and that changed their lives forever.
A country, a civilization, you dragged back until they saw nothing but clear darkness. It still tries to stand out like a lamed child that has potential and can’t succeed. You’ll pay your price when the day comes For now, I thank you for giving me a reason to write.