MPitS - Mendocino Community High School

MPitS

Mendocino Community High School
2008/2009

Ode to the 44 Year Old Child

I ponder the things you say to me
the anger in your eyes burned into my retina
the veins in your body
pulsated as they began to lose control.
You threaten to strike me, once again.
I feel the resentment fill my body.
I’m tired of the way you act.
Selfish; manipulating; controlling.
You’ve always been in it for you.
You are lost in a fantasy,
where I am the joker
and you are the king.
You sit high upon your throne,
as arrogant as can be.
You look down at me,
as if I am the one
who is supposed to have the answers,
the one who is carrying all the responsibilities.
When in reality, it is you,
you who has simply failed
me.

Tamara
Grade 12, Mendocino Community HS
Karen Lewis, Poet Teacher

Singing Battle Songs

Reading, learning, studying—
Revolutionaries, Communists,
Radical teachers telling tales of things that they have seen,
Rallies they have been,
graves that they have visited.
And stories of great men:
Che, Fidel, and Marx.
Some were martyrs, none were saints,
but all believed in great ideals, and none believed in hate.
Back into the classroom, brains still ponder on—
Revolution of the people, singing battle songs!

Elijah
Mendocino Community HS
Karen Lewis, Poet Teacher

Ode to Sheep

They graze,
few and far between pastures
continually consuming
emerald green grass
bleating sweetly
to each other.

Their pulchritudinous wool
Cut
Processed
and sent to foreign countries

Made into thread
for undervalued
garments
or
packaged and sold
to spinners.

The natural colors
being twisted
and drawn into
the orifice of the spinning
wheel, slowly pedaling.

Wheel turning
the soft merinos and Rambouillet
into yarns for scarves and hats
Or the rough churros and Shetland
for the warps of rugs
Trace the origin of your
wool sweater
back out of the loom
into the wool fluff,
and perhaps returning
to the back of the
sheep,
grazing on an
emerald green pasture in
Ireland
or New Zealand.

Petala
Grade 9, Mendocino Community HS
Karen Lewis, Poet Teacher

Train Chasing

Great bridges span the chirpy waters.
Cadoosh, cadoosh, cadoosh; the train runs across them
whistling daisies in its wake
making music with the rails.

Cadoosh, cadoosh, cadoosh; the train runs across them
fishing boys jump from the tracks
making music with the rails.
This train’s not on schedule.

Fishing boys jump from the tracks.
Brakes sound, awakening passengers like lit cigars.
This train’s not on schedule,
but the water takes the lads.

Brakes sound, awakening passengers like lit cigars.
A mile more, ‘til we finally stop,
but the water takes the lads.
Sizzling, drizzling from summertime.

A mile more ‘til we finally stop.
Great bridges span the chirpy waters,
sizzling, drizzling from summertime,
whistling daisies in their wake.

Savannah
Grade 11, Mendocino Community HS
Karen Lewis, Poet Teacher

Gorgeous

her sorrowful eyes glass over her heart
in gaga, living in a gruff galaxy.
no time to give her heart away.
the glitter at night glistens
looking for a glossary
to find good words to determine
the golden color of grapes, or
give excuses to hang life on gallows.
the gateway to the ghastly things
in life floats away
like a ghost. after she says “go”
her everything glistens, her
world is not glorious.

Madee
Mendocino Community HS
Karen Lewis, Poet Teacher

The Last Summer

The sun grows reluctant to give over his sky to the moon’s seductive embrace.
Liquid gold pours down from the forget-me-not blue skies, to slake my thirsty pores.
Oh, the sweetness of summer.
With laughter and joy, I dive into the underwater silence.

Liquid gold pours down from the forget-me-not blue skies, to slake my thirsty pores.
The air shimmers with tremulous giggles.
With laughter and joy, I dive into the underwater silence.
The frigid ocean shocks me into vivid life.

The air shimmers with tremulous giggles.
The effervescent waves massage the shore, sweeping forward, then pulling me back.
The frigid ocean shocks me into vivid life.
A peaceful love of here, of now, overcome me.

The effervescent waves massage the shore, sweeping forward, then pulling me back.
Pangs of homesickness call to me from the future.
A peaceful love of here, of now, overcome me.
I revel in these long, lost moments of pleasure.

Pangs of homesickness call to me from the future.
The sun grows reluctant to give over his sky to the moon’s seductive embrace.
I revel in these long, lost moments of pleasure.
Oh, the sweetness of summer.

Julia
Grade 11, Mendocino Community HS
Karen Lewis, Poet Teacher

What Do You See of Death?

Black gold starts wars
Cup your hands tight
Least hard-won oil slips away

I. C. B. M.
Should I run? No, it’s too late.

5ft: What will I see of death?
What have I seen of life?

4 ft: Have I lived my life well?
I see my mother wiping hot tears
from my eyes.

3 ft: Should I have prayed more?
My head touches the mat and looking up, I see. . .

2 ft: Do I have any regrets?
I step from the car and see my baby daughter
in warm embrace, she’s waving, her father’s come home.

1 ft: What will I see?
In a crater, in hot sand, surrounded by buildings, now dust.
A father once stood.

Jason
Grade 12, Mendocino Community HS
Poetry Slam Team

Sienna

The saddest are the small things
Sienna yellow butterfly
One wing trapped in muddy water
Her companion, mirror
Sienna, spotted black
Fluttering around her dying form
I can’t help thinking: this is loyalty
Why can this little butterfly
Love more than we
With all our songs?
We have bigger hearts
And yet, Sienna butterflies
Make our love no more
Than empty words
Will we ever humble ourselves enough
To learn the lessons taught
By butterflies?

Allegra
Grade 12, Mendocino Community HS
Poetry Slam Team

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