Poem of the Day: 29 Jun 2005

I walk to the graveyard
         and  
I throw all my memories  
into the grave where I
will lie when I die.
As I walk back my legs get feeble
I fall to the ground.

Emma O. (Middle School, 2004-5) (p#358)

Love is like a poem.
It has rhythm, fast or slow
We don’t know which way it’s going to go
It can be affectionate, or bright,
It can be airy, and light.
It can be dark, and shallow,
Or thin, and hollow.
Love is like a poem.

Chloe S. (Middle School, 2004-5) (p#359)

Red on a smooth white plane
Red like the rage inside of her
Red.
A representation
a clue for the rest of the world.
She looks at it
comfort
it’s tangible, real.
A sly secret beneath her sleeve
shyly awaiting attention,
providing reassurance when the scarce supply runs out, 
interrupting intolerable perfection,
   a slice
   a sliver
   a sever
   a sigh
    anyway you look at it
   a serious problem
   a scar.
But scars fade over time.
So will she, and everything else.
Nothing is permanent
and she is scared.
She fears the day
her red will fade to fuscha
and fuscha to pink
   and so on
   and so on
   and so she remains
Cherishing
her red
her truth
her Red.

Jeanna P. (High School, 2004-5) (p#360)