High School Writing Group at the Gloucester Writers Center

Write?

Write.

prose, poetry, and pizza

high school writing group

(not in the high school)

Gloucester Writers Center

126 East Main Street

(just past Espresso and Richdale)

Mondays at 5:30

email orangeamanda@yahoo.com

Bring what you read.

Bring what you write.

Acrobats and Elephants by Brian Finlay

I can remember a time,

The grass waving hellos at the passing clouds

And the songs of pristine nature playing melodies musicians didn't dare to imprison

The waves would lap gently against my feet, buried in the sand

            Never riled nor enraged

            They rolled onto and over each other

            Like the acrobats at the circus

                        The one where you got to ride the elephant

                        And feed it peanuts as it hugged you tight

The simple things were simpler.

Now I only remember the present

The constant fear of the unknown

            That presses sharply against the mind

The grief and mourning each day

            That weighs too heavy, a burden on my heart

But the most frightening;

Do the clouds ever say hello back?

And are the waves still elephants?

My View vs. Their View by Pauline Cruz

My home has been made famous by artists

But filmmakers show the most in my home

Whether the scenery was the boldest

Or they saw a story within its dome

But they only capture my home in all

Of its bland superficiality

Ignoring the traits that make it stand tall

And making it very unnoteworthy

With my camcorder in hand, I explore

With the adventure calling out to me

Excitedly, I step out of the door

And see my unique home on the blue sea

Determined to prevent this tragedy

I film it in its true identity

The Mist by Sarah Rose

The mist shivers over the glassy water,
Isolated memories painted in each droplet;
Tiny snapshots of a full and nearly distant life.
The moments surrounded, consumed, engulfed,
Dripping with suspense and un-shattered silence,
Too still to touch.
Even so, the air clicked,
Ringing with the camera's echo long past,
Reaching out to grab me with the hands of a clock.
Above the geese shout,
In ecstasy or grief,
Ever tracing a path they're bound never to see.
An ambiguous arrow in the chilled autumn air,
Points south for redemption,
South to troubles,
South to struggles,
A strength grown in the tears.
Elsewhere is---
Anywhere is---
Nowhere is better than here.
Stare down through the crystals,
Move forward in time,
Memories may sparkle,
In darkness they shine;
With light's sweet approach,
They'll soon fade to behind.
Next to the fears,
The sadness,
The years,
The past's welcome escape,
All trickle's away,
In the present's delight.
In dawn's open hand I stand by the lake,
The geese overhead fly on without fail,
I traveled the past,
The pain and pride line memory's long trail,
Leaving not but the face in the glass,
Brimming with fate's grace.