MPitS |
Mendocino High School 2006/2007 |
Afterlife
Your first consideration
the sweet expectation
of so-called emancipation,
with no actual correlation
The sweet expectation
and endless imagination
with no actual correlation
and belligerent fascination
And endless imagination
symbolic incantation
and belligerent fascination
A simple illumination.
Symbolic incantation
your first consideration
A simple illumination
of so-called emancipation.
Sebastian N, 10th Grade
Mendocino High School
Bill Lemos, Classroom Teacher
Singing Softly
Can you hear it?
The voice of the wind
singing softly to the trees
Without a care or whim
The voice of the wind
is neither soft nor loud
Without a care or whim
it shuffles about the crowd
Is neither soft nor loud
This song the wind can sing
It shuffles about the crowd
seemingly on wings
This song the wind can sing
Can you hear it?
Seemingly on wings,
singing softly to the trees.
Hanna P, 10th Grade
Mendocino High School
Bill Lemos, Classroom Teacher
Pacific Movement
Foam skimming across the surface
The curve begins
The water comes surging up the beach
polishing all the shells along its way
The curve begins
The amorphous body turns shapeless again
polishing all the shells along its way
bringing a cool rush only found in the Pacific
The amorphous body turns shapeless again
She runs breathless into the sea
bringing a cool rush only found in the Pacific
She dives under, letting the cold permeate
She runs breathless into the sea
Foam skimming across the surface
She dives under , letting the cold permeate
The water comes surging up the beach.
Julia A, 10th Grade
Mendocino High School
Bill Lemos, Classroom Teacher
The Troops
He goes in strong and fierce, like an ox,
then comes back carried in a draped box
He gave his life for a lie
and that's how many more will die
He wanted to do good
To save, help, and bring food
He was misinformed
of the reasons why he was put in a uniform.
Taj S, 9th Grade
Mendocino High School
Bill Lemos, Classroom Teacher
A Blur
The world goes blurring by in a hurricane of self-centeredness. Everyone walks forever and gets nowhere. These people think that their walking is making an impact; but no, there is always someone else to take one's place when you are gone. With all of this walking the world has become something to entertain, to please, to be there when needed, and to disappear when there is no time for it. On my left there is a man sitting on the subway seat. I bet that there are at least three pieces of gum on the underside of that burnt orange seat. One Bubbalicious, one Trident, and some type of teeth whitening gum. The man sitting on this burnt orange seat is probably in his mid-twenties. He is listening to a blue iPod shuffle, and he is bobbing his head to the beat. The pants he has on are so torn and tattered that I can see pale hairs on his leg. The sad thing about this is that these torn pants are most likely close to new. His shirt is nothing special, just blue with American Eagle on it. I look up at his head. He has wonderful green eyes that probably captivate the thoughts of most girls that look at him. He has a cleft in his chin, which is rugged and manly, and facial hairs that make it look like he was in a rush and couldn't shave this morning. A few dirty blonde curls are protruding from the bottom of his hat. And then there is the hat itself. It is a black Yankee's hat. He has it slightly to the side. I try to look away, but for some reason this hat is mesmerizing me. Every bone in my body wants to put this hat back to where it belongs. It feels as if the world won't be in order until that hat can be nudged back to where it needs to be.
The train stops with a sudden jolt. I get up from my mustard yellow subway seat. This is my stop. The doors open and everyone rushes to get off of the train. I am the last one off. I step onto the platform and head toward my connecting train. I get to the platform, and as I wait, I think about all of the people around me. There are billions of lives going on every day, and people in the world don't know each other's story. Why did that little girl dye her hair bright pink? Why does the guy with the long brown hair hang his head as if death came early? Why does that old man need a cane?
Suddenly I hear shrieks, and see people pointing. Is something happening that could connect all of these strangers? Some incident that will connect us forever?
No. It is just a subway rat, fat and ugly. People start taking pictures of the rat. I bet they are tourists. I look more carefully at the rat. I wonder what his story is. Did he have a hard life? My next train comes and squishes the rat that was invading my thoughts. I feel as if I shared an important part of his life with him. Suddenly I am empathetic for a creature that was disgusting everyone else.
The doors open and everything starts rushing again. Everyone shoves to be the first one on, or off, the train. Is everyone so rushed now that they can't even be polite and let someone go before them? I get on the train. Like usual, I am the last one on. The doors close. I am no longer connected to the people that I was, just seconds ago. For the brief time that the doors are going to remain closed, everything will be calm. I find a seat in the very back of the car. This one is the same burnt orange as the one that the Yankee's cap guy was sitting on. As I sit down, I think about him, and his off-kilter hat, that needs to be put back into place.
Chloe G, 9th Grade
Mendocino High School
Robin Curry, Classroom Teacher
I
I will remember the ocean's roar
The beauty of life between forest and shore
The friends and ideas to which I swore
And saying goodbye forevermore
I am an army, and I stand alone
I fight for my freedom and the place I call home
I fight with my poems and actions and stories
I fight with my music, for everlasting glory
I will remember the stories and songs
My friends that were there when I didn't feel strong
The stage where I felt that I always belonged
And learning how rarely my heart was wrong
I will not be remembered for conquers and deaths
I will be remembered for granting life and breath
I will not shed the blood of my adversaries
I will overcome them with wit and with caring
I will remember the smell of the woods
When people helped just because they could
I will remember that people can be good
And the years I spent outgrowing my childhood
I am an army, and I fight for my future
I fight because I know this evil has a cure
I fight without hurting because pain does not solve
I fight with my intelligence and a stone-hard resolve
I will remember the lectures and debates
Getting to class early 'cause we just couldn't wait
Wondering if life is free will or fate
Being so busy that I was always late
I will not be dissuaded nor will I be defeated
It is not a failure until as failure it is treated
And I will not forget where my loyalties lie
I will follow them true until the day that I die
I will remember the poems I heard
The lessons about life and living I learned
The times I was frozen and the times that I burned
The small things to which I always returned
I am an army, and my fall will not be soft
I will fight for the dreams that I now hold aloft
I will fight for my friends and enemies alike
For we all share one world, and peace is a right
I will remember testing my confines
Learning that there are things better put behind
That not all that seems so is benign
That nothing can heal like chocolate and sunshine
I will not forget the road that brought me here
Or the times when I succumbed to my fears
Nor will I forget that I made it through it all
And that through my struggles, I can stand tall
I will remember the promises I made
And I will remember the prices I paid
The things that I learned and the games that I played
And I will remember that things change but don't fade
I am army, and I will succeed
I fight against anger, and I fight against greed
I fight against those who wish to hurt others
I fight for the world, for we are all brothers
I will remember the things that changed me
And I will remember the pain that I've seen
And the joy as well, and when I was carefree
I will remember the change and the growth,
becoming the best I could be
I am an army
Marika T, 12th Grade
Mendocino High School
MPitS Home | About | Links | Poet Teachers | Schools | Site Map |
Website designed by Bob Evans & Blake More. If you have comments about this Web Site please email: blake@snakelyone.com
Last Updated 8/1/05 (bm)
copyright 2003 Mendocino County Poets In The Schools