Thursday, October 8, 2009

Two Poems by Terri Moody: The Power of a Child & The Wanderlust of Life

The Power of a Child

Sidewalk chalk, Salamanders and Swings,
These are children's things,
Our childhood is pure, white as snow,
Things change as we grow.
Scraping of knees is no longer the definition of pain.
Innocence leaves us just to spite.
I guess it is better this way,
Our knowledge expanding day by day.
Promise me though you will not lose faith,
In the fantastical creatures who used to be our mates
The Fairies who take flight
The Apples that will Poison with a bite
The Mermaids,
The Houses made from Sweets,
The Animals who could speak,
The many people who You could be in an Hour.
Belief will be Your power.


The Wanderlust of Life

Is it just because This is something new?
Or is It something more?
It is scaring me, is It scary to You?
We are landing on an unfamiliar shore,
Our spirits bursting, on Our face a smile,
Their voices full of welcome, and cheer,
But will This all be worth Our while?
Once we venture out, there is no coming back Here,
Promise me now, that This is love!
Or tell me that It is lust,
Or, confirm my fears, is it only part of growing up?
Nothing now is certain, Except This peregrination is upon us.

"The worth of cubical probability" by Eric Brown

The worth of cubical probability
The rotation of flat proportions
The numerical extremes of possibility
In other words, chance

That internal emotion of excitement
The slim opportunity of fortune and fame
If things go your way, in good fortune
You could end up lucky

Luck is a distraction
A word for human's incomprehension
The feeling that the stars will align
To have everything go your way

Does it help, probably not.
I guess it's just hope
For movements to preference you
And not someone else

"I seem to be like something new" by Amy Carpenter

I seem to be like something new,
And I don't know what you go through,
As you try to tie your shoe,
But really, I was once like you,
I once, like you, was four
And I can see right through your eyes,
And how you suck at telling lies,
Your gap-tooth grin is your demise,
When you can't pretend anymore.

And I remember how I look,
To those who still can't read a book,
In awe of those whom time has took,
And how my life was severely shook,
'Cause it's not how it's portrayed.
You can't wait to be like me,
Though the future is too far to see,
You think someone like me is free,
But we all have been betrayed.

So go and look for Neverland,
And build your castles in the sand,
Come and take me by the hand,
And I'll try to make you understand
How we're not much different, You and I,
I still long for other days,
To change myself in different ways,
The world is still a maze,
No matter how hard I try.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Red Death at 6:14 by Bethany Sabo-Brisbois

Red Death at 6:14
by Bethany Sabo-Brisbois

I suppose the closest I’ve ever come to falling in love was with a girl named Helene, I can’t recall ever learning her last name; our relationship didn’t require such things. I met her on July 9th, the sky was beginning to turn a dark shade of grey and the air began to get stiff and damp, a storm was beginning to form. I was walking home especially fast that day, trying to make it home before the rain began to fall; I took the shortcut, through the woods. With my headphones in, Red Death at 6:14, and my hood protecting my head from the slight mist that had arrived. Thunder roared above the tree tops, I looked up hoping the cool splash of rain would hit my face and cool down my body, sweating from the hot summer air that stuck to me, instead of the cool splash of rain, I felt my face meet the ground. A soft chuckle came from my left; I looked up finding a girl laughing at me.

“What’s your problem?! Do you just go around laughing at anybody that falls? Who do you think you are?!”

“Kid, you tripped on your own two feet, and took a face dive straight into the dirt. That is pretty funny, I mean you honestly couldn’t tell me that you wouldn’t have done the same.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say back to her, because well, I knew she was right.

“Look, I’m sorry if I offended you in any way, here let me help you up”

She took out her hand expecting me to take it, and to my surprise; I did. Amazingly strong for her tiny stature she was able to get me to my feet in a matter of seconds, I quickly brushed the soggy dirt off of my pant legs, the girl watched me and I could begin to feel myself feeling self conscious. She took out a lighter from her pants pocket and a cigarette out of a different one, she lit it and put it in her mouth, she breathed in the smoke, long, and deep.

“Hey, do you want one?”

“Umm, No thank you. I’ve got to go right home, and my mother would have a fit if I came home smelling like smoke.”

She laughed again, this time louder, “Hey don’t sweat it, truth be told I wasn’t even really asking you.”

To my surprise I began to feel myself get angry, “Well, why even bother asking me then?!” I could here the bitterness in my voice.

“I was being polite.” She smiled at me, not with her mouth, no, she smiled with her eyes. My nerves began to calm after she smiled, and I don’t quite recall thinking clearly.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Shopping with Abe Lincoln by Jaret Sears

Shopping with Abe Lincoln
Jaret Sears

Abe, buddy, could you grab us a basket?
We won’t need a cart, we aren’t buying that much.

Where are you going? We…no… wait… no, we start over here.
Come back over here, don’t go to the deli, we don’t need anything there.

Ok… do you have that shopping list, Abe?

You forgot it? Where? I asked you in the car if you had it and you said you did.

Do you remember any of it?

You could remember the Gettysburg address, but you couldn’t remember a shopping list. Never mind, I think I remember most of it.

Hey. Whoa there. Abe, what are you doing?
Are you smuggling potatoes in your top hat? That’s illegal, Abe. Shoplifting is illegal.
And they called you “Honest Abe”. Ha. I laugh at that. I do.

Oh you were just putting them in there so you could weigh them easier?

Sure, ok. No, I believe you. Why are you giving me that look? Don’t give me that look.

Abe, look at this. Hormel chili is on sale. Ten cans for $10. That’s pretty good.
What? Well… yeah… I know. I know we don’t need it.

But I mean its nonperishable, so we could buy it now when it is on sale, and store it.

Abe, it’s not a stupid idea. That’s realistic. Fine, we won’t get it.
But when football season starts next month and you invite your pal Rathbone over,

Don’t ask me to make dip for you, cause I won’t, cause we won’t have chili.

Ok… we have to pick up Diet Coke. Not regular Coke. NOT regular, Abe.

You know what it does to your stomach, and I’m not going sit there feeding you TUMS. And you groan and you tell me never to let you get regular Coke again…

And then the next day, what do you do? You get regular Coke.

No. Freeze. Right now. What are you doing? You are holding regular Coke.

Put that down, get the Diet Coke. Just do it, Abe.

What else did we need? Anything… is this about it?

We’ve put a few things in our basket… we don’t need much else.

I don’t think so. But I just know that when we get home I am going to find the list,

And I’ll have missed something on it.

But oh well, whatever it is, I’ll pick it up after work tomorrow.

Ok, we don’t have that much stuff. So we’re not using a regular aisle.

Should we use the “Express Lane” or “Self-Checkout”?
You know what, the self-checkout always breaks when I use it, so we’ll just play it safe.

We’re going to use the “Express Lane”. We have ten items or fewer, right? Right?

Alright… ok… I’ll put this stuff on the conveyer belt.

No, you don’t need to help me, Abe. I can do this myself.

What are you doing? No, you aren’t getting that water bottle, put it back.

We have water in the car. I don't care if the car-water is warm. Put the water back, Abe.

No. Hey. Don’t put that on the conveyer belt. Get that off of there! Now! Abe!

Ok… fine… there you go, she scanned it. Too late, we bought it.

Now you have your water. Are you happy? You couldn’t just wait till we got to the car.

It’s funny that you could run an entire democracy “by the people”,

But you won’t listen to anyone else’s opinion while grocery shopping.

Whatever. I don’t make the money. It’s not my money. It’s yours. You can waste it.

What? Oh. I don’t have my “Shaw’s Card”. I didn’t bring my keys ‘cause you drove.

Abe, do you have your “Shaw’s Card”? No, you don’t? You don’t.

Abe Lincoln forgot his “Shaw’s Card”.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Red Sea by Kaylie McTiernan

Red Sea
by Kaylie McTiernan

Infinite water surrounds me,

The Azorean sunset's passion manifests itself,

The secret ocean hides the wind's whistling might,

Almost forgotten is the wildly jumping jerboa,

The arctic blue narwhal's unicorn-like majesty is concealed,

Dreams of the tranquil stream are distant,

An overwhelming desire surges,

The Red Sea flooded irises gaze back into mine,

Endless water envelops me,

Fiery winds break the ocean with whistling might,

The Venus Flytrap does not snap shut,

No graceful Siberian tiger perches, awaiting its prey,

A blood-red sunrise pierces,

No dream of the tranquil stream,

The Red Sea flooded irises devour mine.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Traffic by Alex Rasmussen

by Alex Rasmussen

The cars all grind to a stop:

one can feel the pressure mount

in ripples through the pavement.

There is, of course, the usual mix of models:

the lumbering herds of Ford Explorers,

the fleet and solitary Dodge Stratuses.

And, of course, most idle

greasy unclean and festering

under the midday sun.

Coffee stains polka-dot every seat.

There is no hurry, no

scurrying through traffic lights,

no joyriding carful of teenagers.

There is no haze of exhaust fumes

through this dissipated air.

But in the breakdown lane

the stolen car with the burnt-out

headlights stalls, its abductor

in a panic with

manic groping sweaty fingers

twisting the impotent key

like the wrist of some

staunch deviant offender

in the ignition

sweating out the crawling, pricking barbs:

the brute caress of freedom.