Poem of the Day: 18 May 2005

Crisp cold air fills your lungs, you feel fresh.
Dancing down, the leaves fall to the sidewalk,
    they crunch under your boots
    you feel happy.
Shining silver shafts from a full moon spill 
across the floor casting solemn silhouettes
you feel serene.
Happy hay wagons waiting for riders
    you feel excited.
Pumpkin pies reach your nose, 
you feel hungry.
Light little paws hit the ground, you turn 
and the cat looks up at you,
you feel relieved.
Terrible taunting faces of Jack-o-lanterns
    a girl blows one out 
    she’s going to bed
    you feel tired.

India E. (Middle School, 2004-5) (p#190)

I never had any friends, and
No one ever wanted to be my friend, but
For a while I was ok..
Besides, I’m not really into that ‘social’ thing.
I mean, let’s be realistic; I’m the nerdiest,
geekiest kid you ever saw. But it never bothered me.
I mean, hey! I do well in school.
Seriously, would you rather be the CEO/founder of a
multi-bijillion dollar company, or
be a “cool” kid who spends his time hanging
around the corner drugstore smoking?
Anyway, it was one night, well I was watching
A documentary on Egypt and eating ice cream
when I thought, I bet everyone else is at 
a movie, having fun, while I’m sitting on my
couch, eating ice cream. I realized then
that friends are a good thing.
I had 4 weeks to make friends before 
school was out. The first thing I did 
was I stopped tucking my sweats into my 
socks. Then I ordered three pairs of
Ecko Jeans. They were all the rage, an Anarchy
Jacket, a pair of Airforce 1’s and an 
all black Yankees hat.
On the way to the drugstore, I picked 
up a do-rag, like what rappers wear. A lot
of people were into that. The next day, I
was doing a little better. By the end of the 
week, I had plenty of friends, as well as
a date who said to meet her at 7:30 on
McLintontunsonville Street.
     When I got there, she was there but 
she was dead, with a heroin needle
in the arm, her eyes rolled up, and the
faint pitter-patter of teenagers running
as they can run through the pouring rain. I took the
needle out and threw it down on the
ground. Then the cops were there and my
fingerprints were on the needle, so
I was arrested for possession. I was
Only 16, so I went to juvy, where I am
Now, writing this poem.
          Moral
Just be yourself, and stay
out of trouble.

Asher T. (Middle School, 2004-5) (p#191)

My life is like a seashell’s—
it rides every wave
of the deep, unsafe
ocean.

Eliza S. (Middle School, 2004-5) (p#192)