MPitS - Point Arena High School

MPitS

Point Arena High School
2006/2007

Fire

I heat the cold winter

house

            My crimson embers eat through wood

like lava

When I'm sick

            dangerous eruptions flare from mountain tops

                        When I run

            red sparks shoot from me sometimes taking down whole forests

                        The wind intoxicates me

            causing my flame to dance wildly

                        I am the flame

            sizzling the barbeque sauce off the ribs

            water is my enemy

                        When it attacks

            my hot flare is smothered

Smoke rises

            the wind takes me to peace

Anthony B
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

The Third Degree Poem

Do flowers look better in real life or in Plasma TV's?

How infinite is the universe?

How come chocolate is sweet, not sour?

How do mimes create poetry?

Have our minds run amok, or are they just hiding?

...And what are they hiding or running from?

How come the sun is orange at dusk, but not at dawn?

And how come you aren't answering my questions you !$@#%&* !!!!!!!

Alex F
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

I'm Sorry

To all you people

Who have ever said

Crude mean words

To me

I wish that you could see and feel

How much it hurts

I am numb to the whisperings of little girls

Who are so self indulged

I don't need you

I don't want you

I don't care about you

Thanks to all of this

I am a stronger

Person and better friend!

Aylish A
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

A New Hope

I arose from a terrible dream

Took a swig of fresh liquid

And my opened eyes startled me

Rushing to the bathroom for a quick relief

It ended

Slowly I walked back to my room

Still dark

But light

Like the sun in my window

Only deceived

So bright

That every snowflake on the treetops

Could be seen only by me

Absorption of the chilling air outside

Breathed only by me

I sighed, comforted by the soft blue light

My clock read 3 AM

Surely not the sun

I snuggled back into my bed

Waiting for the new light

A new hope.

Ariel M
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

• " Any how, you ought to go and see a doctor. Perhaps you need a Pregnancy Substitute."

________________________________________________________

• " Oh, for Ford's sake.... shut up!"

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• " But he's the one I want!"

________________________________________________________

• "Why don't you just go and take him. Whether he wants it or no."

• " At Malpais you had to bring her the skin of a mountain lion, when you wanted to marry someone."

________________________________________________________

• " Do you really like me, or don't you?"

________________________________________________________

• " I love you more than anything in the world."

________________________________________________________

• " Why on earth didn't you say so...instead of driveling away about knots and vacuum cleaner and lions, and making me miserable for weeks and weeks?"

Ashley
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

Half burned cigarette
The ripped dead fishnets lay against her powder white flesh

half burned cigarette still in her hand

   But know one cared.

Empty eyes stared forever open

doll like, into a world only she could see

while all manners of deathly creature crept closer

drawn by the scent of fresh death

   But know one cared.

Her cure was to roam the streets

on a side of town were know one would go

the gutters full of needle

the nights full of screams

she crept in dark corners

to slake the lustful pleasure the night demanded

the mistress of a world where terror ruled

a half burned cigarette the only beacon of light

   But know one cared.

At the time of twilight

before the first rays of sun pierced the sky

when the old cobblestone bites with frost and falls rough

making the sound of her worn stilettos echo

that's when he came.

An irregular customer

an average man

with a not so average glint in his eye

he reaches caressing he throat

   But know one cares.

And know one knows.

What is one less

half burned cigarette in the night?

Ayla Jewel T
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

Airplane Map

(Inspired By A Paper Airplane)

The world soars

Aiming at your face

Warnings catch your attention

So you duck

But too slow

The Indian stuns

The point between your brows

Your mind wanders

Wonders

About the countries

Cultures

Lives

That just ended

On your forehead

The pieces

Were strategically placed

The people

Were warning you

You should have listened

Now the world is crumpled

Your stomach up in your throat

Because

You

Ducked too late

Breanna K
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

My Family River

A river springs forth in Minnesota

It comes from heaven above

Running over limestone

Making its way westward

Descending over blueberry waterfalls

Through radical smelling cedar trees

Climbing snow speckled mountains

Trembling crispy forward never ending

Always enduring blocked passes

Brackish water

Intoxicating pollutants

Giving its off- spring an illumination

Of the exquisite beauty of nature

And the refined unattractiveness of humanity

Corey S
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

WHAT IS LIFE?

Life is like a Dromedary

Full of water

Making us thirsty

Hungary for blood

Eating the chocolate lips of death

This is just a big circle

Going around

And around

In the cycle of life

We never quite get to the end

Douglas G
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

DON'T

LEAVE ME ALONE

DON'T LOOK AT ME

WHY SIT THERE

LETTING PRECIOUS SECONDS SLIP AWAY

RUNNING YOUR MOUTH

Don't TALK TO ME

WAISTING MY TIME BOTHERING TO LISTEN

CAPTURING MY ENERGY

LOCKING IT UP IN A GLASS BOX

NEVER TO BE GIVEN BACK

DON'T LIKE ME

I WASN'T MADE FOR YOU

GET OVER YOURSELF

STOP LOOKING FOR MY FLAWS

REALITY THEY'RE YOUR OWN

THERE IS HOPE FOR YOU STILL

Don't HATE ME

BECAUSE I DON'T NEED YOU

I AM BETTER WITHOUT YOU

YOU CAN'T BURY ME WITH YOU

I WILL ROAR BACK

LIKE THUNDER

DON'T WORRY

YOU CAN NEVER BE ME

I WILL SUCCEED

I AM TEN TIMES BETTER NOW

I AM POWERFUL, YOU ARE WEAK

ONLY THE STROND SURVIVE

BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME

Eva A
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

Morning

Waking up

Desperately wanting to shut my eyelids.

Venture off, back to my dreams.

Away from reality

For at least ten minutes.

But then reality hits. Hard.

I'm back to my life, and everything that's happening.

Opening my eyes.

Dragging my stumbling, restless body out of bed.

To the cold, white sink.

To wash my face and brush my teeth.

Lazily walking back to my room

Still half asleep.

Turning on the television

Choosing a random station, I don't even remember.

Getting ready for the long day ahead.

Slowly walking down the stairs

To the kitchen counter

To grab some Cheerios

With no milk.

No time to actually get out a bowl and eat.

Running out to the truck.

Awkwardly tripping, like an idiot, over my own two feet.

Luckily, not letting my self completely fall

Onto the dry, thick, powdery dirt.

Looking up to see my brother

Laughing, as I get extremely frustrated with him.

Hoping that each morning turns out a little better

Without the predictably random thing that happen each day.

Gina S
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

Water

When I rinse the Earth with my tears,

green growth sprouts back from the flame licked soil.

People gather among my humid oceans,

And moist rivers

I play with the mightiest ships

Sailing across my surface

Able to destroy them at my whim

My power is absolute

Cities use me to thrive

They use me

Pollute me

With no respect to my abilities

Now my tears burn

And destroy

Flooding and crushing

Hogan Ernest R
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

The Mirage

Lost in the desert of depravity

Why have we arrived?

Who has led us to such a place?

Deplorable acts happen with an astounding frequency

Uncharacteristic of a 'civilized" population

The desert is deceiving

A mirage holds us captive in this sea of mirth

We are lost

May we soon find our way

Ian S
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

Seasons of Saturn

Swirling through space

Just tumbling through.

Endlessly falling,

But still thinking of you.

Twinkling stars,

Shining like jewels

Light up the sky,

Abandoning all rules.

Tilting on sturdy axis,

Alternate darkness and light.

The sun smiles every once in awhile,

Bares his teeth,

Comes to life.

Fallen stars represent fallen lives.

They soar to the earth,

Like heaven-tinted eyes.

So say goodbye,

One last time.

The seasons over now

Time to cry.

Josephine M
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

Locked inside

A chamber of night.

Terror takes over

It makes your muscles twitch,

Your body numb

And your eyes blind

To the emptiness around you.

No light or sound.

Only your heart.

It beats in time

With seconds that tick

Faster and faster.

Faster and faster.

Air is precious.

Not to waste.

The smell of sweat

Pollutes your senses.

You can't tell taste from smell,

Sight from touch.

Fight off the urge to scream!

Rust and metal

At the edges

Of your tongue.

Pressure of walls closing in,

Coming down

Crushing your singed soul into ashes.

It makes you taste the blood

From the wounds

You've inflicted around you.

Nothing can replenish the tears

Shed for and from you.

Not the biggest rain or ocean.

It's all your fault.

Your decision.

It's all your fault.

Your choice.

Your fault.

You decided.

Your fault.

You chose.

And now you're drowning

In what you created.

Drowning in what you've caused.

Drowning.

Drowning.

Drowning.

Drowned.

Keelyn O
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

HELP

Hectic life

Pounds of paperwork

Millions of people to call

Billing and banking to take care of

Applications, transcripts, information

Have to be sent off

Christmas is coming

Car got totaled

Banking decreases rapidly

Money wasted on

Applications

Senior necessities Senior pictures

Graduation approaching

Tons of homework

Overworked

Drama infested

Stressed

Overwhelmed

Making oneself sick

No clue what to do

I need HELP!!

Kim R
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

Just Another Day

Waking up

To the sound of my cacophonous cough

Still laying

In bed

Thinking

"Should I get up?"

Crawling out of bed

Always the hardest step to do

"Oh! No"

The alarm reads 6:45

20 minutes to get up

stow an outfit together.

Setting foot outside

Feeling crisp cold breath of the morning air

Rushing up my spine

Walking through the crackling leafs of fall

My feet sink

The large golden vehicle arrives

Filled with screaming children

In a sluggish way

Ascending up the stairs

Grasping the cold seat

I assume my position

Start my daily journey

Monica S
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

Environment

The mind wanders

Through your self conscious

Serenity and peace surround

The soul

The Mountains

Great and wise

The lake

Still and clarifying

The animals

So content

They want to drink some tea

To sit and look at the magnificent view

The three monkeys envision

Sight

Hearing

Sound

All three sitting down for tea

Hoping all their senses

Come to life

Patience R
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

Blue Fire

I am the river

flowing through endless miles

Cutting its own path

I am the cold quiet river

Sliding silently,

Through the day and the night

I am the powerful river

pushing continuously against the dam,

Bending until it breaks

I am the flood

in the dead of night,

No one notices

I am the pail river,

in the misty dawn

Sparkling peacefully again

I am the clean river,

the crystal fountain of rain

Swimming under the sun

I am the polluted river,

the filthy ground water,

Standing stagnant and guilty

I am the boiling river

burning at dusk,

Sizzling with sparks of frozen water

I am the red flames,

rising from the depths

Of the calm blue water

Thea T
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

Silent Night

I am the silent stillness before the first rain.

The sublime, illuminated colors of the sky before the darkness captivates it

I am the smooth ocean before the storm,

mellow, soothing, anticipating the splash.

I am bitter sometimes,

like the smell of freshly cut grass.

I can be harsh,

like the cut of cold air when you climb out of a perfectly warm bed in the morning.

I can be the soul singer in the spot light,

or the surreptitious thief in shadows.

You'll never see me at a desk,

or at the millions of cubicles in the cities.

I express my self with "dang " "nice."

Everyone is a sweetheart to me.

I over explain why I understand,

or why everything is going to be ok,

or why I don't want to go out.

Fm not going to be your party girl,

, who speaks her mind and argues her point.

I am the girl in the comer,

the girl you just missed.
Isabel M
Point Arena High School
Blake More, Poet-Teacher

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