Monday, February 12, 2018

Twilight Goal by Abbie Deyeso

Only a Face by Danielle Larrabee

Clowning Around by Icaro Souza


Teapot Envy

By Unknown

I sit on the cold stovetop all day long,
waiting to be used.
I watch as you use your Keurig to make delicious hot chocolate and steaming coffee.

It hurts to know you like him better, it really hurts.
I watch the mugs slowly start to enjoy his hot water more than mine,
and I feel betrayed.

I don’t have to be plugged in like does,
I don’t have a risk of technical difficulties like he does,
I am not full of myself LIKE HE IS.

Why can’t you see that I am a classic piece of hardware?
IM IRREPLACEABLE!
You put me on the burner across the counter from that guy,
I have to sit and watch you enjoy him all day.
You know how unfair that is?

I am angry at him for being so much better than me.
I am jealous of all the mugs that greet him.
I am sad because I love him.


Image result for hug
(Photo by IndieReader)

"They invented hugs to let people know you love them without saying anything."
By Bill Keane

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Quotes about spring

~Author unknown

Oceans of Power - Billy Aubrey

Crashing waves, mighty and bold.
A liquid power that’s very old.
Its ancient strength still strong today,
Witnessed in a lake, sea, or bay.
It’s power unrelenting,
And waves unrepenting.
It can take down mighty ships,
And reduce them to chips.
The sea is rugged and rough.
The currents, flooded and tough.  
With waves that can devour,
A crash so strong it can cause a shower.
If the ocean is power,

Then it is no coward...

The Trumpeter
By: Christian Celentano
The beats of the drums shake the ground
The singer sings and the saxes sound
The bass the foundation for the blues of the heart
A man's own expression within his musical part


This band of the heart is quite a sight
With the whole spectrum of colors from black to white
Just a band full of people who want to exist
Led by the conductor with his directing fist


But a man in the back is the main event
People look past his skin and see his intent
He plays with such confidence no fear in his eyes
The blues he plays are as clear as the sky


The vibrations of the bass runs through his bones
The beat of the drums timed with his tones
The trumpeter at this time is no longer black
He's a man with a horn that never looks back


He looks so intense yet sounds lighter than air
He plays so strong yet harmless as a hare
His tones so beautiful in the way they rhyme
The harmony so deep it at points stops time


Yet a man with a horn is all he is
He Lives with his wife and two cute little kids
But his two little kids don’t know their dad with a horn
Lives in a world that's broken and torn


I remember that day could never forget
When his solo began he took off like a jet
The trumpeter played with no fear in his eye
But he didn't know after his show he would die


After it ended I went around the stage
Into the alley where the bricks showed their age
I saw four men with sticks and with bats
All wearing overcoats and small rimmed hats


I peaked around the corner to observe the scene
These men looked unhappy and most certainly mean
I prayed that the trumpeter wouldn’t arrive
And I thought of when he played how he looked so alive


Then suddenly I saw the door start to crack
One man gave a signal and they began to attack
A swift bat to his head hit with such deadly force
The man swinging on his face showed no remorse


The beating was quick but felt like forever
But finally, the men had finished their endeavor
They all ran off I was left in shock
As the trumpeter lay there still as a rock


I sat in the alley where the trumpeter lie
And saw the emptiness within his bruised eye
The warm blood from his face pooled on the ground
And all I heard was a dull moaning sound


I ran to his body took his head in my hands
This was just a man who was in a band
The skin that was black was turned blue and red
The trumpeter died, my lap his deathbed (changed the ground to my lap)


I couldn't remember how long I stayed
I just tried to think of how he played
The tears from my eyes they fell on his face
Oh how I wished I could have taken his place


I sat for a while my heart had such pain
And then I felt the cool wet droplets as it began to rain
I walk home in tears wishing it was a dream
And I would wake to the smell of coffee with cream
(Shortened last line)

On that night the band lost a member
On a  cold rainy night in the middle of September
His two cute little kids lost their dad
By some blinded men who did something bad


But what would be different if this man was white
It would not fix this horrific sight
And if the four men who killed him happened to be black
They still would have killed him and would have never looked back


The man that was killed was neither white nor black
He was a man with a horn in the pack on his back
The world was torn and broken  no matter his race
Yet he played with such tones that floated through space


I was born a man with eyes that are blind
But the scene of that night was engraved in my mind
But by having closed eyes  I saw his intent
I did not use eyes, my ears held my judgment


Either way, a trumpeter was killed
And I felt the puddle of warm blood from his head that he spilled
And the tears from my eyes fell on his face
Whether he was black or white I wish I took his place


I am now a trumpeter in a similar space
But in a world that no longer cares about race
People learned my trick and there was an advancement
They just looked past my skin and saw my intent


I have two little kids and a lovely wife
And a wonderful house and a beautiful life
The trumpeter was a man with a horn in his hand
He died to give me his spot in the band

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

Dear Earth
By Elizabeth S.

Dear Earth,
I am sorry
For what we, Mankind, have done to you
We reach our nasty arm
Over your vast acres
And gashed, lacerated
Ripped, and slashed,
The trees you buried, fixed upon yourself,

Mankind has raped your lavish land,
Oh, Dear God,
Mother Earth, I am so sorry,
To make room for your animals they have to mass produce,
capitalized,
We believe we owned the beast,
But to a shrieking lamb, who sounds of your child,
Man has decided was for your grill,
Who is the real beast?
Dear Earth I am most sorry off all
For your heavenly, humble, animal
We grotesquely, seized them
From your loving side.
We have turned them into a business,
Mother Earth,
Pumping out,
Everyday, Slaughtering them, by the thousands
Throwing our money at the meat industry
Stuffing our bulky, ollied, bellies, with them,
While products shrieks in terror,
And we eat it, we eat their hemoglobin juices, clots, guts, pus, terror,
Mankind is committing a mass destruction of your children
Mother Earth,
I am scared to tell you what we have done,
For it is too cruel, it would make you believe
Mankind a hollow shell, lack of empathy, sympathy,
For the weak, the ones who can not speak,
Call out for help, to stop, beg for mercy
We our Butchering, slaying, wasting,
liquidation of humanity has happend,
For Mother Earth,
We take your sweet nurslings,
Baby cow’s, not even licked by their mothers yet,
Four month old, sent off to farmer john they go,
The baby's mouth fill with foam
There eyes go white, as they are forced with electric prods into their metal barred cage,
Waiting for the bolt gun, to stun them
Hanging them up by their little foolish legs so,
They won't struggle, which they tend to do more than regular money making animals
So they won't bruise,
So their meat is tender, juicy, luscious,
So you can serve it to your hungry customers
Veal, is this heinous, malignant, Manmade meal.
Mankind has told itself the biggest lie, that this is “humain”,
For i know no man who would see his fellow man shot through the brain,
To stun him, and then slit his throat after he has been hurdle up over the world
Hanging upside down,
And call this death “humain”
But that doesn't matter to man
For he can never know what is it like
To be a animal
To be worth less just because you aren't “human”
To be selfless, innocent,
Feel the terror of a pig,
Or a cow, or chicken, or goat, or horse,
Or a sheep, or a buffalo, or a lamb,
Or baby cow,
As they are unloaded off the trucks with electric prods,
And forced to confront a manmade fate decided for them,
The slaughter house,
Because if you could see what happens inside
You would not eat your cherished “U.S.D.A” certified hamburger,
But mankind isn't forced to see
What our ultimate consumption of this living creature does,
Mankind doesn't see inside the slaughterhouse
Or smell the shit fermenting in the leaky lagoons
So we live in ignorance,
Proclaiming it’s our god given right
We own the earth, and it’s inhabitants,
We are the top of the food chain
We are human
We are monsters
Oh, Oh sweet Earth, i am so so sorry
You scream for us to stop
We can hear it from the screams of your animals
And see the blood, piss, and shit leak into our land
But mankind does not stop
Mankind is sadistic, monstrous,
Wicked, deprived,
And i am just, so terribly, terribly, sorry,
Mommy Earth,
For you nor your pure creatures, never even asked for us at all.

"The snow did not even whisper its way to Earth, but seemed to salt the night with silence."
          ~Dean Koontz






Untitled by Mia Salah

Songbird
By: Mary Godwin
There’s a bird in a cage.
Won’t you free it?
There’s a songbird in a cage.
Don’t you hear it?
It sings of a sweet release.

There’s a bird in a cage.
Won’t you help it?
The bird is all alone.
It sings of freedom.
Can’t you free it?

There’s a bird in a cage.
It longs for freedom.
It sings for friends.
It’s the only songbird.

Won’t you sing with it?


Memory
By: Mary Godwin
I used to know him
I used to know his voice
Now I look back
All I see is a vague face
No laughter, only the still picture.

People tell me about him
Only once in a blue moon
His passing is too fresh
The memories are still painful
Even if I don’t remember him well

Eleven years ago today
On the Eighth of December
He died in the hospital
When I learned of this I cried
I never got to say goodbye

I remember very little about him
I was so little when he passed
It’s been so long since I’ve seen him
But I do remember some things
He liked to drink tomato juice with salt in it.

Today we honor his memory
Today we look back and think of him
We think of the man he was
We celebrate the life he had
To us, he’ll always be our #1 Grandpa.

The Man and His Hill
By: Mary Godwin
There was a man who lived on the hill
And everyone knew him well
They knew him up until
He fell

The man suffered a terrible fall
Off of his roof and down the hill
Trying to reach a child’s doll
His screams were short and shrill

Nobody knew what happened to him
Not until the morning after
That morning was grim
And nobody knew him thereafter