Poetry in Public 2013 Read online



  Poetry in Public

  A Project of Mr. Stewart’s

  Eighth Grade English Students

  April 2013

  Mister Stewart

  Copyright 2013 Mister Stewart

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Please note that the first two letters correspond to the poet’s initials, followed by the class period.

  Period One Picture

  Period Two Picture

  Period Three Picture

  Period Four Picture

  Period Eight Picture

  AA P4 – “A cloudy day, no light, only shade”

  BB P4 – “A hot summer day”

  EB P1 – “Let the hearts beat forever!”

  KB P8 – “Madness”

  RB P3 – “Looking over the whole world”

  AC P4 – “Eagle Eye”

  DC P8 – “FLASH”

  JC P1 – “In the night she shines with all its beauty”

  JD P4 – “Waiting for My Wonderland”

  HF P4 – “Everyone and everything is quiet”

  SF P4 – “Outside”

  IG P3 – “Butterflies”

  IG P4 – “The darkness”

  PG P3 – “A pleasant chill is in the air”

  GH P0 – “Forgetting”

  MH P8 – Art is an alternate universe in my opinion”

  NH P1 – “The world is unfair”

  TH P2 – “Do not take apart your computer”

  SH P4 – “The world would be better without you”

  BJ P3 – “My black box of joy”

  ZJ P3 – “The black canvas covered the sky”

  SK P1 – “On a boat like a boss”

  TK P1 – “The world like us has bad days and good days”

  AL P1 – “Life”

  RL P8 – “Interrupted”

  TL P1 – “You might hate her”

  AM P4 – “Above”

  MM P4 – “The world, a giant rainbow sherbet”

  MM P0 – “Forgetting”

  SM P1 – “The way she walks seems like it has no purpose”

  SM P2 – “The Sky”

  ANP3 – “Morning”

  TN P8 – “The sun rose not even thinking”

  AP P3 – “Hair the color of lions fur”

  AP P8 – “A castle that stands high in clouds”

  EP P3 – “A girl of courage is all I see”

  LP P2 – “School is a jail”

  BQ P3 – “I remember the day of moonlight”

  GR P2 – “Why do people think that life's so great?”

  MS P8 – “Water thank you for taking my thirst away”

  AS P2 – “Soccer is what I play”

  AS P3 – “A Morning”

  YS P8 – “Dreams”

  JT P8 – “The Almighty Queen”

  SV P2 – “Everywhere in the world clocks tick”

  CY P1 – “The sun, warm and majestic”

  Period One

  Period Two

  Period Three

  Period Four

  Period Eight

  AA P4

  A cloudy day, no light, only shade,

  The smell of hurt a chilling breeze, it feels like a war ground,

  I’m at a park,

  Not just any park though,

  One where Colossal structures frolick and tower over,

  My presence is of a mosquito’s to them,

  I stand in their shadows just as Wander did.

  Their looks, they begin to bother,

  I can’t take it any longer,

  His spirit absorbs me and I attack,

  I search for the beacon, it will appear,

  I point my sword right at it, I know that he is here,

  He knows the same of me, it disturbs him,

  He turns, but I’ve already mounted,

  Climbing so high holding on by hairs,

  Reaching the peak,

  My meter is done, the time has come,

  I shoot towards the ground,

  Smashing, flipping, holding on for my life,

  I have come to be the victor and as the victor I will outlast,

  Such a rush! Adrenaline pumps through my veins,

  But I must not stop I know that she waits,

  My beautiful Mono, unconscious and feeling gray,

  Lying on the stone where I left her,

  Enchanted and anything but gay,

  There’s no color where she lay,

  I must change that,

  Fifteen colossi left,

  I must conquer them all.

  * * * *

  BB P4

  “A hot summer day”

 

  There’s nothing quite like the satisfaction

  Of  a radiant sun

  Beaming down own on your skin.

  Sitting by the pool,

  The scorching rays soaking into your arms

  Ever so calming.

  Your headphones in,

  Hearing nothing but the soothing music

  That acts almost like a lullaby.

  Relaxation at it’s finest.

  In the distance you see a few kids,

  Running and enjoying the warmth.

  The water so calm and motionless,

  Scintillating in the sunlight.

  It appears as a glass wall.

  So fragile,

  That even the slightest touch,

  Will shatter the beauty.

  Over by the grill, you hear the sizzle,

  Of the warm, burning steak.

  You smell the fresh cut grass

  On this hot, serene, summer day.

  * * * *

  EB P1

  Let the hearts beat forever!

  Let them run and be wild

  Screaming ‘I love you!’

  As they explore and learn

  They will be broken and scared.

  So it’s up to me to mend their hearts.

  Let the hearts beat forever!

  For scared hearts are everywhere.

  And new hearts are barely spared.

  Teach them that they’re not alone

  And it’s only the cruel game you play with life.

  So it’s up to me to mend their hearts.

  Let the hearts beat forever!

  Because now that your heart is fixed

  It’s up to you to spread the word

  Don’t give up.

  You’re not alone.

  You’ll find love soon.

  So keep moving on.

  So it’s up to you to mend their hearts.

  Don’t worry, you’ll exceed

  In helping the new hearts wondering.

  Warn them ahead; don’t let them look back,

  For love is just a bump in the road

  That leads to paradise.

  So it’s up to you to let those hearts beat forever!

  * * * *

  KB P8

  “Madness”

  As doubtfulness arises.

  You question your existence;

  Antipathy begins between you and your mind.

  You rage and ask, why?

  People call you odd.

  You begin to agree;

  And you rage,

  But still no change.

  You ask, why?

  You search for answers;

  But there are none.

  You keep searching;

  Looking for answers.

  But there are none.

 

  You begin to ask,

  Am I mad?

  You rage,

  But still no change.

  Your mind calls you eccentric.

  You ask, why?

  You search for answers;


  But there are none.

  As the antipathy becomes too much

  You become mad.

  You plead with your mind,

  Please no more.

  But it won’t stop.

  And you blink out.

  * * * *

  RB P3

  Looking over the whole world,

  I could see everything imaginable

  The mist of the clouds

  grazed my face and I inhale

  I blink

  8,000 feet high

  The altitude makes my brain feel nutty

  It might double over in my skull

  An area stuffed with history

  Old and new

  Like a turkey on Thanksgiving

  The words just spill out of the tour guide’s mouth

  He goes on and on

  Filling my plate with too much Quechua

  I turn to the left and

  The vistas steal my breath

  I turn to the right

  I am blinded by llama

  This llama is looking

  He wants a battle

  “Terrazas” my

  Teacher exclaims

  Interrupting our duel

  There is so much urgency in her voice

  So unnecessary

  Relax

  Breath in that chilled mountain air

  Click a picture

  A nice one

  to decorate your Instagram

  Memorize the green

  The green is everywhere

  Say goodbye

  Roll back down the mountain

  Say goodbye to Machu Picchu

  * * * *

  AC P4

  “Eagle Eye”

  Almond shaped

  Round as a freckle on your cheek

  Closing like a garage door

  Or opening

  Like the wings of a hawk

  Perhaps a raven

  Who knows

  It's unperceivable

  Until you turn around

  Let me see them

  Small trees on the top brim

  The trunk so twig-like

  Add a hue

  To fit your pigment

  To lift them up

  So the trunks and leaves

  Face the sky

  And inside

  A white

  Like cracking open a coconut

  A thousand black firecrackers

  Running around a black hole

  And the brim

  A circuit of any shade

  Or many shades

  Like the canvas

  Of frustrated composer

  A cobalt looking glass

  A grassy kaleidoscope

  Chestnut binoculars

  Lavender below them

  You seem so tired

  Saddened

  Two beacons

  Maneuvering me

  To your affections

  Agitation, Anger

  Lust, Bliss

  Sometimes I can't tell

  You hide behind a veil

  * * * *

  DC P8

  “FLASH”

  On that frightful night.

  It was darker then a black hole.

  The only light was from a howling moon.

  I gassed across the street and saw him.

  My shaking hand rose.

  Two quick flashes.

  Bang Bang.

  Those were the last sounds

  he heard.

  The last thing he saw,

  blood coming from his heart

  His face was sad and scared.

  His last words will haunt me

  forever.

  “Why, what for?”

  Now I hear the police.

  They put me in the car.

  The slam of justice

  hit me like a brick.

  Prison is my life now.

  I know nothing else.

  This is my life.

  Don’t make my mistakes.

  * * * *

  JC P1

  In the night she shines with all its beauty.

  The moon knows how lonely it is at night yet,

  She’s there every night watching us sleep peacefully but,

  She’s also there for those who can’t sleep

  And feel alone at 3am.

  She’s beautiful the way she shines

  In the darkness she’s mysterious,

  She’s the queen she owns the night, the stars,

  The sky its all hers.

  No matter how bad the day was when you lay down

  And look at her

  You see how lonely she is and

  How sad she seems

  But she’s still there hanging on

  And so should you.

  * * * *

  JD P4

  “Waiting for My Wonderland”

  It’s had my attention since my first glimpse.

  At such a young age, so easily distracted.

  The bright colors and foolishness

  It made no sense

  But that was the point.

  Dark forest green

  Bright Cheshire pink.

  The brother’s tale of oysters.

  And songs of merry unbirthdays.

  The wonderful land of Wonderland

  Forgotten for years.

  Until found again.

  New perspectives, new knowledge.

  The different reality seen with different eyes.

  Now not only entertainment

  But an escape from other’s realities.

  Today the insignificant girl does not hold my attention.

  Nor does the Hatter or the Hare

  Though they are close runner ups.

  It’s the feline that holds no malice towards Alice

  That is the star of my show.

  He always has his grin

  He speaks the most nonsense of them all.

  Mischief is his entertainment

  And trickery is his hobby.

  I do wish Wonderland weren’t so out of reach.

  Though there seems to be no age limit

  And that offers some relief.

  I’m still waiting for a glimpse of McTwisp,

  And a gathering with Iracebeth.

  Still waiting, waiting for my Wonderland.

  * * * *

  HF P4

  Everyone and everything is quiet,

  no one even blinks.

  The ball is turned three time in the servers hand.

  A long breath escapes,

  like the soft morning wind,

  the ball is thrown, hit,

  than flies through the air,

  as if it was trying to reach the clouds,

  being bumped, set, hit,

  the never ending sound of the ball swimming

  through the air toward everyone as it goes in all directions.

  One final swoosh as it starts to tip over the net,

  a girl jumps with her hands outstretched,

  the fingers fall and smack!

  The ball slams to the floor as the setter lands safely on her feet.

  There is one short moment of silence,

  before the crowd cheers.

  * * * *

  SF P4

  “Outside”

  Outside, the smell of pine by the river

  drifting lazily along in the long summer days,

  drifting past a cabin, cozy, warm.

  The red paint peels slightly from age,

  and the cool breeze comes down from the appalachian mountains

  carrying away the normally stiflingly hot air of West Virginia summertime.

  The green grass of the valley gave it a very peaceful look.

  There was a family of whitetail deer around back of the cabin,

  eating from the overgrown, untended garden, carefully stepping

  over the rusted spade and hoe.

  The ba
ck door of the cabin was broken, and hung off the rusty hinges

  like a broken tree branch after a storm.

  A large crow had started a nest in the hood of a truck,

  rusted and old, without a drop of gas in the tank. Grass was growing

  on the seats, and a hole had opened in the roof.

  In a pine tree by the stream, a raven took flight and glided to the cabin.

  He circled a few times, then landed on the second floor window.

  It was shattered, and the frame had holes in it from buckshot.

  A corpse lay there, a man, striped of his valubles.

  His gun was taken, and his food gone.

  He was shot by raiders in this post-apocalyptic hell,

  Just because he wanted to survive in this overpopulated world.

  The raven cawed twice, then flew away.

  * * * *

  IG P3

  “Butterflies”

  He stands.

  Tall.

  Proud.

  All of his towers, made of stone.

  They come to the window.

  Our orange and black butterflies.

  Our monarchs.

  She wears gowns of silk.

  Adorned with amethysts and diamonds.

  He with robes of purple.

  They both stand like him.

  Like their symbol of power.

  Tall.

  Proud.

  He stands.

  Tall.

  Proud.

  He may be gray,

  But his heart is white.

  The color of the sun.

  Happiness.

  Power.

  His heart holds their seats.

  Holds their butterflies.

  Holds their land.

  He can be seen from miles away.

  He stands.

  Tall.

  Proud.

  He is loved by his people.

  He is loved by his butterflies.

  Because of his beauty.

  His power.

  He stands.

  Tall.

  Proud.

  * * * *

  IG P4

  The darkness,

  Everywhere,

  A never ending beast

  That wraps you up in his cold grip.

  The only resistance is given

  By the faint light of the moon.

  But even that,

  Is swallowed up.

  For a time the night rules

  In total control

  And then,

  The smallest slivers of light,

  Heralding the coming

  Of a new day.

  The darkness resists,

  Clinging adamantly

  To his empire

  Fighting even harder

  As the cancerous light grows.

  The light keeps coming,

  In a never ending stream.

  The darkness,

  Already coming to a close

  Vanishes,

  Without a trace

  When his conflagrant mortal enemy

  Begins her fiery ascension