PenmoreKenmore Middle School2016-2017

PenmoreAll entries are in alphabetical order

by Shushantika Barua

DeadBy: Sameen Ahmad

Children crying gazing at their mother.The mother is still, motionless, and a scarlet flood is rushing toward us.Children cry, their salty tears making their clothes soggy.“Mother is dead,” they say, What will happen to the children?  They are only one and two-Survival is impossible.Suddenly, everyone is frozen, still as my father’s grave.Then, I hear fireworks, but there is no celebration, People are falling into the hole of death Collapsing on the cracked gray roadI hear the wail of my neighbors, their child is dead.The mother is weeping, crying for her 6 months old child.Once my mama told me, “We are escaping, heading to Jordan to escape a war.”Is that why these people are running?Where is mama?Unexpectedly, someone collapse behind me,their bloody hand lands on my right shoulder.Soaking my shirt with vermilion life,I rotate to look at the person.The appearance looks familiar,I see my eyes in her eyesHer eyes are trying to tell me something,Her eyes beg me to listenThey force me to look at her I watch as her shaking hand points to the the right,In her last motion she shows me where to run with love and fear.It’s my mama, my mama.She is laying right in front of my eyes,Her green eyes are shut, her chapped brown lips are filled with dark red blood.She was the only person, that I ever loved.The only one.She is gone too, just like my daddy.She is Dead I think to myselfShe is Dead.

Artwork by Britsi Santana-Alonso Photo by Reina Cooper

Palestineby Islam Ahende

When I think of Palestine I think of a peaseful placeIn this peaceful place you will hear “bang! bang!”In this peaceful pace you will heare “ahhhhh!”In this peaceful place you will hear “waaaaa!”These sounds are when people get killedThese sounds are 2hen babies cry because they want their momThese sounds are happening because of the war in PalestineOne day Palestine is going to be freeIn that peaceful place I’m going to hear the sounds of “haha” and “weee”These are sounds of laughter and happiness.

2

My Heart Beat Faster By Aldwin   My heart beat faster and faster every second, I grappled at the sharp rock, I was attempting to scale.  My chest, wet from sweat, pressed against the sharp rock, and I had too many scratches to count.  I took a second to look around, seeing nothing but the growing wilderness below me.  Distracted by the majesty of the forest, my sweaty hand slipped, and then my other hand, and then my feet.  All at once my body was flung off the jagged rock, and I held my breath expecting to be lowered slowly down by my belay.  Instead, unaware of my sudden fall I swung back and forth like a pendulum hundreds of feet above ground level.  I screamed in fright as my unexpected swing dragged me back and forth.  Then I smiled, really smiled, and laughed at my over exaggerated current situation. The last few swings before I was lowered all the way down were ones of pure joy as my fear melted into joy.  Though I have never attempted to climb a rock like that since I will always remember that experience as a moment in my life where I did actually laugh my fear away.     Now, I have to tell you I am not a particularly prolific storyteller, that is to say I don't have many to share.  So, the stories I am telling you are the stories of my life.  A life lead through moments, breath by breath, beat by beat.  The next story taught me the value of those moments.     My eyes focused on my parents faces as I scanned for a sign of what was to come.  Once again, they had sat me down in the large leather chair in our living room.  They looked solemn, and my face twisted into a frown. I contemplated the possibilities for their calling me here.  Finally after what seemed like forever my mother spoke.     “Recently your Grandma was moved to rehab after her fall,”     “I know..” I said cautiously.     “Well, last night she fell asleep and…”     “Most people do.”     “She never woke up.”      A strange feeling washed over me, a mixture of surprise and disbelief.  It took a moment to process the news and I sat in that

rugged chair with a blank stare.  My mother had lost it already, and she was huddled in my father's arms sobbing at the death of her mother, my grandma.  Shaking ever so slightly I lifted myself out of the chair and practically dragged my body toward the stairs.  I felt like I weighed a million pounds.  Everything ached.  Tears started escaping, and before I could tell them to stop, my father called out to me.     “Are you going to be alright?”     I nodded unable to speak and not wanting to burden an already sorrowful mother with my own confusing emotions.  I quickened my pace and started once again up the stairs.  That night I spent curled up on my bed bawling like a child.     As did my Mom.  Because losing someone close doesn't really get easier the more experience. It hurts uniquely each time.  And when you first lose someone you feel it every second that they should be here, but they’re not.  But those moments space themselves out over time and you remember those you lost in pieces, in breaths, and beats, and moments.  Lives lead through moments.

Photo by Abi Burkholder

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Gone by Najla AliTrust is a shiny crystal sheet of glassNot something to take advantage ofNot a little girl’s pigtailed doll  That, when her brother tears its head offCan easily be replaced When you break someone’s trust You almost never get it back It disappears down a road of no return It is limited within a person And it's something that isn't missed Until it’s cracked  ShatteredGone

My Little Sisterby Jessica Antezana

My sister is cute like a little puppy.She is funny as a little kitty playing.She is the light of my life.She is as sweet as a chocolate bar.There is no one like her.She is unique.But sometimes she “waaa”Or “Ahhh”And somtimes she is a monsterShe is like a lion’s cubShe is as smart as a fox.But no matter whatI still love her.

My Sisterby Caroline Aramendia

My sister is like a snowflake. She shows her beauty as my eyes glance at her.  When I need her help she surrounds me like snowflakes on a snowy day.

As she laughs I see a her eyes twinkle, as the sun reflects her.

She melts away as she disappears in her room.

She is my snowflake to keep and love.

She is a shining snowflake to help me.

My sister is like a snowflake.

Artwork by Abi BurkholderPhoto by Catherine Ledesma

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Baseball Night at Quincy Park Under Bright Lights by Jake Arrowsmith

The diamond, my place Sliding into home, I’m safe Stars like gems watch me

Backstabbersby Alexis Avalos

The people you trust the most may turn against youThey were once my diary, under lock and key,

But the dairy  fell open,The key somehow turned, and

The words one spelled out,Exposed,

For everyone to seeThe words felt like knives cutting you

From the backwithout knowing you’ve been just attacked

That's when one learned not to trust anyoneWith many things

To twist on the mortal and immortal Kings;“Our lives begin to erode when we share our pearls

With those who trample them”

Simple Scintillation                      By Christian Alvarado                                              There on the gold beach                               calming blue waves swish and swoosh                               white birds shine the sky                                 

Angerby Nicholas Aparicio                   Anger, frustration         Redness makes my emotions rise           Cindy’s hair spikes up.                             Fist are balling up Chest is pumping Forehead turning red Unpleasant vibe fills the room          Explosive bursts             Furniture around “it” is not safe Anger is the “it” that is disgrace                          

by Tyler Arrowsmith

5

Comprehensiveby Qide Bao

The time has come for the photo to be revamped.  Fingers moving, typing faster than life, my screen blares with tools;  The cut tool is used to splice every even slice of the photo with the sound of clicks …  The stylus is moving and erasing the undos and redos of my multiple mistakes… The lighting of the perfect zones and the shadows of the unseen picture… typing of the board and sliding of the trustful mouse who has both been with me for the decades.  The layers of artificial color covers my screen with unknown purposes alone.   Finally the photo is done.  Now comes the final task before it goes on it’s way… the pushing of buttons make the sound of the whirling jets and the silent sound of the ink splatter over the canvas. Now the rush of completion runs through me.  I’m that editor who took photo’s in the cold breeze mountains. I’m the editor who learns thought the sounds of nature.  The editor who learned through the multiple layers of life.

The world doesn’t always recognizes my labor.  Without me, it’s like a cake without icing.  I’m the entire project: I’m  the cover,I’m the body, and I’m the pages.  Behind the scenes less attention helps you focus on what really matters.

My skills are the knife of the chef, the board of a cook and the axe of a lumberjacks. Inside my tool box are the essentials required for perfected product.  I can deploy them across many media in any field. I’m as sharp as a machete, as precise as a surgeon, and as skilled as a civil engineer. Hail artist, I Am the editor.

My Faith by Shushantika Barua

I wear my faithAs an act of honor and dignity.

 I show my beliefs

As an act of purity and modesty.  

I am not wearing a symbol of oppression.Of  “I-believe-in-restricting-a-woman's-right-of-opinion-and-expression.”

 The cloth wrapped around my head doesn't subjugate me.

I  chose to wear my faith and my beliefs.  

You chose to keep yourincompetent minds,

And judge filled eyes,your stubbornness of not willing to accept and change,

That seeing someone wearing a hijabMust mean, turn the other way.

 Who knew in this world,

That a piece of cloth wrapped around my headwould translate to terrorist?

 But in a world lead by fear and refusal,

Of closing your eyes to realityIgnorance is equivalent to bliss.

 You look into my hijab,

not my mind.You think you know me.That you're always right.

 If the nuns in your church can wear them,

Then why can't I? 

My hijab is my faith,My hijab is my beliefs.

It represents a part of me,But there is more to me underneath.

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Walks and Wonder--Shushantika Barua

 Warm lapping waters

brush slowly against my knees. Soft, cool morning breeze.

 Millions of shells right beneath me,

water stretching as far as the eye can see.The sun sinks down, the sky turns darker,

the perfect balance ofthe wind and the water.

 Bands of red and gold paint the sky.

As if stolen and dipped in bright colored dye.Thousands of footprints litter the sand,

soft jazz music from a distant band.Midnight blue slices the sky

like a dagger, the perfect balance of

the wind and the water. 

The ocean water still warm beneath my feet,the slowly receding afternoon heat.

The cold seeps in and makes me shiver,the tainted balance of

by Anna Bolejack

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Seasonsby Anna Bolejack

The sunshine's rays gleamBeating down on mePiles of angry leaves

That have turned red and fell off their treeWinter’s snow covering the ground

Like a blanket it fallsA new life starting for plants as flowers bloom

Coloring the worldRound and round again The seasons never stop

Each one differentEach one the same

The world's expressions

Umbrella by Anam Brennan 

I am your protector.I am your shield.

I am always there for you.Hiding in the corner.

Waiting for the sound to bring me out. 

I am your protector.I am your shield.

Covering you from the world.Being your barrier.

Hiding your flustered face. 

I am your protector.I am your shield.

You toss me to the side.Hide me in a dark.

Forget that I am there. 

But you always come back.

Mixed emotions you feel for me.It's a pattern I can't break

Put me aside. Care for me.

Put me aside. Care for me.

 But then when you take me out.

You care more than usual.The sound is harder.The world is stronger.You hold on tighter.

 Then the world takes over.

It takes me out of your reach.Out of your sight. Out of your care.

 You have lost me.

And I have lost a part of me.Away from your touch.Away from your love.

 I stand there all alone The world rushes by.

Leaving me in solitude.My heart is broken.

My soul is lost. 

I stand there.Waiting.Hoping.

That you will come back. 

Then another one comes.She looks at me with bright eyes.

All of a sudden she takes me away. She cares for me.

And a part of me is found.

8

ChoiceA Series of Haikus by James Byron

Far back in 6th gradeGym class has ended. We wait

And so, it begins.

The two jerks are poisedBoys walk out of locker room.

They set sights on Jim.

We have all seen itThey are masters of insultSpirits crushed by words.

“Hey, fatso! Hey, Jim!”“Retard! You lost us the game!”

Jim still stays silent.

We all stand awayTry to ignore our horror

Should have been stronger….

We have all faced them.We have all been who Jim is.

But what can we do?

We must speak.When we are silent, our

Lives begin to end.

   

The Busby Shannon Bunting

I get on the bus and sit in the back.All my friends show up, waiting for the attack.

I take all the words, they go straight to my heart.No one backs me up: I just sit in the dark.

A week goes by, still nobody knows.It hurts me a lot, but it doesn't show.

I know I can't fight back; it will make things worseNobody knows how much it hurts.

He follows me to my locker.He was literally my stalker.

All his friends come behind him.They push me into my locker and I hurt my limb.

The teacher sees but doesn't talk.When I push him off me and start to walk,

My books fall to the ground.They make a resounding sound.

Weeks go by.Time doesn't fly.       

Till one day my friend decides to say.“You need to stop being rude. What did she ever do to you?”     

If you don't have a friend by your side,Say something everything will be fine.     

It might be hard to do.But everyone believes in you.  

9

by Abi Burkholder

Never Endingby Ben CassattClimbingA vast frozen mountainI see the summit againThe brightly glaring sun’s tip is within reachThe howling wind blows by meI lose gripEach time I fall it hurts lessSoft as a blanketThe icy plain welcomes meThis time, there’s no pain

My Motherby Amyaha Chiles

Light to dark from when you moveQuiet to loud from when you speakAll the colors I could see just behind something so thin.I chose you to teach me things before I'm brought into the world.I chose you to be myRole model,

Hero,FriendI chose you to be my motherWe’re spiritual connectedOur hearts beats in harmonyLike humming birds singingYour habits become mineAnd your personality becomes who I amNine monthsTwo hundred seventy five days I grew inside you Moving around in slimy, goo listening and turning into a mini youI may be your fifth child, but that doesn't stop you from beingMy mother

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Speak Outby Regan Christensen

Whispering behind her backThey would say,“She’s so weird”“She's so annoying”“She thinks she's so amazing”...

My light was hidden behind a curtainI felt a sting of regret,My own friends avidly talkingAnd me, standing silently on the sidelines

Should've spoken upShould've spoken outMy head down Eyes avertedDoesn't work anymore Push back the curtainsThrow back the hoodNo more flickering candlesSpeak upSpeak out From now on Let your light shineTo all the worldTime to speak upTime to speak outTime for change

Grand CanyonMargaret CloeI stepped out of the carIt was bizarre I looked at the sightIt was better than alright It was wide and deep I couldn't get across in a leap It was all orange and redI felt as if I would drop dead As I left with my companion I said bye to the Grand Canyon

Jazzby Elizabeth Coderre The bass buzzes at a steady beat. 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4 The piano chimes along,Do-re-mi-fa, do-re-mi-fa,Its keys humming a song of their own. Plink-plunk, plink-plink-plunk.  The singer’s voice goes up and down. High to low, high to low. The trumpet alternates betweensoft and LOUD, soft and LOUD The saxophone sings a solo, All together it makes jazz,A chaotic, calming genreFull of possibilities.

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Dear Parent Figureby Tico Cole

Dear Parent Figure, I know babies aren't supposed to come with instructions, but this one does. I'd like to start off by telling you I don't like to be too hot or too cold. I just like to be a pretty chill temperature. Second, I'd like to say I love the apple baby food. I also like milk but I prefer baby food. Now I'm not gonna just tell you what I like I also want to tell you what I don't like. I don't like seeing you sad because that just adds on to your problems. Now you have to deal with me being sad too. I don't like loud noises or bright lights. I'm very sensitive. I just want to let you know that I love you and hopefully you love me too. Sometimes I can be a handful but most of the time I'm chill. Finally, I'd like to say please take me with you when you go places. I like to go places see things I've never seen. I guess you can say I'm adventurous but that's all I have to tell you about me. Ps. I'm a very light sleeper so be cautious around me when I'm sleeping. Your loving son, Tico Cole

by Alex McVicker

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Family Tripby Evelyn Copa

Long rides to the beachSitting still for hours legs are stiffThe sign welcomes usRunning fast as a cheetahOut of the car to go swimFeeling everything around us Smell of salt water White sand: hot under my feetA gleaming pink shell

Left Out                    by Susan Cordova                                                              I flee with nowhere to be; I fly aimlessly with no one to be with, no home to land on.  I am tired of so much struggling to fit in, I have given up on society’s odd rules of being a perfect child with the perfect body and the perfect face, and myself not fitting none.  Yet on a daily basis, seeing everyone follow society’s rules feeling singularly left out, I am a lost bird.I feel like an outcast.  I keep my beak low.  Being the ugly ducking of the group, I try to hide myself the most I possibly can.  My eyes scream for help but my heart keeps my profile low on the horizon.  I feel I am losing my senses like water seeping through paper.  I am searching for someone or even something, not there, but there is no one to rely on, no one to cry to, and no one to talk to.  When I approached her and I felt fear as if my wings were failing me, but at that moment I had realized, I’ve found someone. She knew how to socialize and she had her home.  I flew there everyday, slowly making acquaintances that later turned into the flock I was part of.  They were there for me to cry with and care for eachother.  Other birds who didn’t fit into this perfect image the world wants, I belonged with them.  They were just like me.  We became a flock of birds, all of our magnetic beaks had helped us find ourselves.  I have found my people.

Good Day, Mateby Ervin Crncevic

             It was a spring day--not too hot, not too cold. I live in a house with two rooms. My dad was in the second living room calling me to tell me the game was about to start.“Ervin,” he yelled.  “Doje ove,”  he shouted. hitting the couch seat.        “Okay,” I called back. He points to the moving screen, “Someday you will be there”. In a happy voice, I respond, “I could be there.” I wished in my head.  The crowds, the stadium, but mostly because of my father’s enthusiasm.  Then the game started. 2nd half. “Where is that?” I ask. “Manchester,England,” He said.“Stov oved” I said in confusing.  “They choose it” He said with a smile.  “Okay,” I said. Then the game ended. Manchester City won the game 5-0. I said, “YES, WE WON!”I like Manchester City because of the fans, the stadium, and the excitement for soccer. The fans were going crazy in 2012. For the first time in 74 years Manchester City won the Premier league title. It was the last game. Man City vs. Queens Park Rangers  Man City had to win because Man United won their game against Sunderland, 0-1. GOAl! Man City scores. 1-0. GOAL! Queen Park Rangers scored 1-1. GOAL! 1-2 Queen Park Rangers. 2nd half. Red card Queens Park Rangers down to 10 men. 90+5 extra time. Could Man city win for the first time in 74 years!?!? Goal Man City 2-2 do they still have time?!?!?! 2 more minutes . GOAL! Man City have won the game and won the title for the first time in 74 years I cannot believe it. Man City had done it. Their 1st title in 74 years.That day on, I came to be a fan, and I was so happy to be Manchester City fan. So, there it is for my Manchester dream.

13

Passageby Nathaniel Davis

Forest sounds, silentMy eyesight fading awayColdness like a corpse

What it feels likeMy dreams remember what happenedFlashes of pictures fill my visionThe way it felt It was smooth and goodThere was fear in meBut when I shot at the targetMy thoughts changed at that momentAfter that moment I still feel itThe rage that builds up

by Violet Deane

14

Lost in a lullabyby Hailey Demas

                                                 Breezes through my ears,                                                   in one and out the other,                                                   completely checked out,                                                    the sun blinding me,                                                 sand in between my fingers,                                                   gone with the cool wind.

BALLERBy Adam DembaThe scorching brown courtCold, wet sweat drips down my faceDancing with the sun

Haikuby Lorenz DunbarHeat: Beating my heart                  Bolting: I catch up to the light             Gasping: I say “accept me.”

Chromaticsby Conor Edwards

It is very peaceful, unusually so,Abnormally quiet.A strange tranquility lulls me into false security...But I know what's coming,It's the calm before the storm.Sudden anticipation explodes into violent colorRed to green to blue,lustrous arc cuts through the sky.Time feels unending.

Where I’m Fromby Temuulen Enkhtuvshin

I’m from video gamesFrom counter strike global offensiveI’m from the swimming poolFrom the community centerI’m from a beef steak at OutbackFrom a mixed German shepherd getting lostI’m from Hurry upI’m from lighting a candle in front of my great grandparents’ picturesI’m from collecting toy carsI’m from dad talking on his cellphone

15

Lifetime Routine by Arianna FloresPast memories of Candy inside of my mouth My heart breaks each time

Glucose Is a mission; it needs a lot of training Every moment makes this condition straining The same routine everyday:  Glucose is a lesson.   

Where I’m Fromby Anay Garcia Cruz

I’m from pique machoI’m from Hurry upI’m from familiaI’m from the smell of cleaning supplieswhen I hug my momI’m from missing Wendy’s graduation in HondurasI’m from sketching Naruto with a pencilI’m from chopping onions to add to an omeletI’m from a wooden bench and falling cherry blossoms.

by Luis Galindo

16

Grayscaleby Briana Guerra

Black, white, and shades of greyBigoted people tell us that these colorsare the only ones that should exist.Did they forget about the color spectrum?

They'll try to reduce your colors into greyBut don't they know your persecution will only make you more vibrant?They'll try to paint over you with their drab reasons and their faded wordsBut your vivid reds, yellows, and purples will scintillate brilliant.

Silence settles over the church room filled with girls, Just like every other class here.“There are and always will be these shades,”She pontificates about marriage and to remain chaste.Her words drip with ignorance and colors threaten to burst from behind your face and above your throat.“All others are wrong and not normal.”‘That does it.’

Unease floods the classroomto those who only know and understand grayscale,Your chair scoots back with a screech when you stand up,Storm out,Leaving them with the rainbow on their slate fingertips.

17

Gone by Ayiana Hairston

Black like the night sky he colors speak to meHelp! I need to flee this place The stars lead my wayThe night sparkles brightIntense crazinessBlack the color of nightThe cover of night Now I am gone, gone forever Please just let me fly

Peter Piper the Pepper PrinceBy: Elizabeth Hall          Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. Peter Piper brought his peck of pickled  to his personal pantry where he practiced poaching pickles. While Peter Piper was poaching pickles the Physic Platypus was predicting if Peter Piper was going to become the Pepper Prince. The Physic Platypus told Peter Piper to retrieve the Pepper Pistol to become the Pepper Prince. So Peter Piper is took his peck of pickled peppers and pursued his quest.        Peter Piper passed a Procrastinating Pangolin who pestered Peter Piper plenty. The Procrastinating Pangolin proclaimed that he should partner up with Peter Piper. Peter Piper and the Procrastinating Pangolin where prancing down the perpendicular path.   They paraded past a Pretty Peacock who pecked a pillow meant for pampering. The Pretty Peacock prized Peter Pipers purple pantaloons so Peter Piper politely passed his purple pantaloons to the Pretty Peacock. The Pretty Peacock picked to

pace with Peter Piper and the Procrastinating Pangolin. Peter Piper, the Procrastinating Pangolin and the Pretty Peacock penetrated through a puff of pleather to find a Preposterous Panda. The Preposterous Panda had a Phd in political science. The Preposterous Panda also had a passion for the Pretty Peacock so he poised proximately close to her.        Peter Piper had the perfect posse! Peter Piper, the Procrastinating Pangolin, the Pretty Peacock and the Preposterous Panda all saw the Pepper Pistol propelled in plain sight.   Then a Psychotic Philosoraptor promptly prevented Peter Piper and his posse from pursuing the Pepper Pistol. So Peter Piper’s posse perplexed the Psychotic Philosoraptor while Peter Piper retrieved the Pepper Pistol. Peter Piper shot a Pot Primo Pepper into the Psychotic Philosoraptors mouth. The Psychotic Philosoraptor perished due to the piping pepper.  Then Peter Piper progressed to his personal pantry where he was pronounced Peter Piper the Pepper Prince!

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One in a Million By: Elizabeth Hall

One in a million One person will choose itOne person will see itAnd another will walk right past it It is one in a millionThink wisely before youTrample it or pick it For once you doYou will have to waitFor a million more to growBefore you see it again Even the simplest of thingsCan bring you joyIn this simple dull world

Yesterday by Lukai Hatcher

Cool,crisp,clear water Washing me clean of my dayWashing sins away.

Where I’m Fromby Rey Hernandez

I am from enchiladasThe smoke came blowing in my face From my soft cloud bed in my homeI am from karate kicksand from rocket soccer goalsI am from Reynaldo and MaribelI am from No drugsFrom not going to church but still believing.

Autumn Danceby Emory Ibrahim

A whirlwind of leavesDancing to silent musicPirouette at dusk.

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The Ringingby Conor Hogan

I sit upon my desk one night, not a sound, not a tuneTo be alone, drowned in the darkness of souls

Guilt thrown upon my shouldersWaitingWaitingWaiting

“Tick Tock” Says the Clock,As it whispers to my ear

“Listen to what you find, dormant in your mind”Then I heard it

Oh, here it is, this Ringing in my earIt is loud enough to reach me so I can hear

This Heavenly song singing in my earI feel it upon me, as I listen and close my eyes

Oh this Ringing, ever ringing inside my earI want it, I want it so bad

What is the sound that is so queer,Loud enough to reach my ear

“Tick Tock” says the Clock12 upon the bell

The ringing plays on singing, singing in my earOh this ringingI need it more

I feel it calling me to the window above the yellow road

More and more I hear itThe dearest sound

I yearn, oh I yearn for itIt calls me out the window

I need this sound.I walk towards it, as it calls me more

I look to the heavens as they call me moreI walk, and step off the window door

As I fall, with that ringingThis peculiar ringing

And I hear “Nevermore”

20

La Boucherie By Ben Jacobs

Life is not easy being an actress, especially when the only money you earn is from doing commercials. I’ve always dreamed of becoming a big movie star, but right now, I’m not living that dream. What I am doing is living in a cramped, yet kind of cozy duplex in New Orleans, Louisiana, right below a barista, or at least that ’s what he says he is. We both share some chores, like I help do his laundry, and in return he makes me coffee in the mornings. Although I own the duplex, I still don’t remember the barista’s name very well, since the time I spend talking to him usually involves us arguing. Before, it ’s been about him making too much noise, or bringing suspicious peo-ple near the building, but this time, I thought I’d bring up something else that has been bothering me.    Over the past few days, I’ve noticed that everytime I see him come back from work, he leaves a very foul and slightly rotten stench right outside the entrance. When-ever I leave the duplex, the smell catches onto the costumes that I would wear for the commercials, and the whole time we would be shooting, I would try to suppress my gag reflex. So, I decided to call him up while he was on break and figure out why he was leaving such a bad stink.    It had taken me quite a number of tries to finally reach him since he usually ig-nores my calls. I don’t know if it ’s because he is really busy or just despises me. I hope it ’s not the latter.    “Hey, I’ve been trying to reach you for a while now,” I tell him.    “I was still working,” he explains, “I had to start my break later than usual.”    “Ok. Well, I’ve been needing to talk to you about something that includes you and the duplex,” I mentioned.    “Ugh, not another thing,” he moaned.

    I ignore him. “Every time you come back from work, you leave a stench that finds its way everywhere around the building!” I exclaimed.    “Well, I don’t smell it. What does it smell like?” he asked.    “It sorta smells like blood. Because of this, it's got me worrying,” I tell him.    “Oh. That ’s because-” he paused for an awkwardly long amount of time.    “Yes? You were saying?” I reply as I waited for him to respond.    “That ’s because I work at a butcher shop! Don’t you remember?” he answered back empathically.    “No. Last time I asked you told me you worked at a coffee shop,” I remind him, which is the truth, since that was just about a week ago.    “That was before I changed jobs,” he clarifies.    “Ok. Let me get back to the point. Can’t you do something about that smell? It ’s ruining my costumes!” I insist.    “The ones you wear in your commercials?” he grills.    “Yes! Could you at least do something about it, like wash your work clothes?” I recommend.     “There’s no point in washing them if they will get dirty later!” he argues.    “There’s no point in breathing either, huh?” I shot back.    “Ok, fine; I’ll go and wash my working apron,” he says with a very loud sigh.    All of the sudden, I remembered something. Out of all the times I’ve done the laundry, never have I ever seen an apron in it. That made me a little suspicious.    “But I’ve never seen you wearing an apron, nor have I seen it in the laundry that I do,” I retort with a very suspecting voice, “You don’t actually own one, do you? And if that ’s true, you wouldn’t be able to work at the butcher shop, so you don’t actu-ally work as a butcher either, do you?”    Suddenly, he hangs up.

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On the Hardwoodby Miles Jordan

The blaring sounds of the shot clock The bang of the ball on the courtThe screeching of the shoes on the hardwood And the smooth swish of the netParents are cheering All the coaches are yellingMy favorite sport

by Alex McVicker22

Uncle Epicurus’s Box o’ Thoughtsby Eleni Klissas

Yin and Yang.Dark and light.       Hate and love.Day and night.                                                            Opposites attractOpposites are legendary pairsThe world just seems to unite

Death is longLife is shortSo as you sit on your stool and workThink of all that could be doneThat might be doneThat should be done                                      Time is both the friend and the enemyWhile your thoughts become your dreamsAnd your dreams become your ideasAnd your ideas become your passionAnd your passion becomes your lifeAs it slowly ticks away.

Don't worry what will happen in the end.Don't fret for lost causes.                                       Four-part recipe for happinessDon't think you're not strong enough.Don't stop searching for the good in people's hearts.

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Wavesby Mickey LakewThe sun's rays pound down on youAs your feet tread the hot sandYou feel nothing but heatWhen the cool ocean breeze hits youSlowly, your feet test the waterThe waves tackle you   Cool ocean submersionAs the water overcomes youYou're under her will

Sculpting Mud Pies with love from Virginia Beach, 2017by Ameerah Little

Soft sand-made pancakesDamp sand as soft as his kissWaves bring in summer

Untitledby Diego Lizama

RenatoUnique, Intelligent, entrepreneur, CharismaticSon of Rigoberto Lizama, Father of Martial ArtsWho loves trying his best, and benefits of working out, and good nutritionWho hates crooked people, fake people, and procrastinating Who accomplished peace in his mindWho wanted to see poverty end and peace in the whole world riseBorn in San Miguel, El Salvador

The Wind and the Girlby Maria LopezThe wind blows on her faceThinking about her mistakesWhy would anyone dwell on thatShe could be having funBut that’s not herShe runs and runs trying to escapeBut the wind blows her awayIt's hard to accept realityWhen you see that face everydayWhy would she want to escapeDid she ruin somethingOr did she make a mistakeThe wind blows harder and harder

by Catherine Ledesma

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Mother to Son                              By:Aleyda Lozano

Grandmothers POVWell, Aleyda, I’ll tell you:Life for me hasn't always been a James Madison University education.It's had lousy teachers.And dropping out, And failing everything,And also bad grades, FAILURE.But……. Im still studying Saving for tuition, Still in school, And getting/reading books. So, right now, don't you give up-For I will still keep’ on climbing’ I’m still not giving up’ And life for me hasn't always been a James Madison University.

Darknessby Lumen

DarknessShadowsNo EscapeShadows jumping out at me.Hunting me.Hunting.The only light is defining walls and objects.Twisting them.Twisting.Everything so still in the dark.Waiting for something.Waiting.I see motion.

Contagiously BuoyantBy: Rafay Mahmood

I saw Buoyant from a distance.All the crazy colors surrounded her and thenthe sun struck without a warning on that Monday morning.The houses gleamed like a knight's armor and it got warmer.I could hear the kids play and the water balloons splash!I felt happy seeing all these smiles, but thenshe walked over to me and smiled with her Diamond teeth and said,“Hi, I am Buoyant.”

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Summer By Achraf Majid

A hot intense day hopefully it cools so I don't have to payThe heat is really burning up I hope it ends so that way I don't throw upDays of intense heat from the sun please make it end so I don't have to eat chum which would be a bum.Wait I know how to keep cool I can go swimming in my pool.Hopefully the ac keeps me cool more than my swimming pool.

DesolationBy Ethan Mansour

I saw Desolation Last night I swear,He was out on the shore Isolated, like a prison with no doors,He runs away from day and nightuntil there is nothing left, but a soul,Maybe one day he will find a homeAll empty and bare

I saw DesolationLast night I swearOr maybe it was me Just looking in the mirror

Milk and Honeyby Naomi Mansour

“It’s just easy to be Jewish there,” my mom has told me too many times to count. “Everything is closed on Friday afternoon for Shabbat.” I hear stories of when she visited. I wonder when it will be my turn. I wonder when I can go visit the Holy Land; when I can float in the Dead Sea, and and pray at the Wall. I often wonder when I will have the opportunity. I want to visit Israel.I want to go to a place where anti-Semitism isn't tolerated. I want to visit a country where Spring Break isn't based off of Easter and where Passover  isn't during school.  I want to get through the holidays without having Christmas projects at school. I want to visit a country where I'm not constantly explaining why my wrapping paper has dreidels on it. Israel is where I am culturally home.Israel is a shining jewel. Its land is beautiful. The sun is a warm hug over Tel Aviv ; the breeze is a soft kiss over Jerusalem. The sweltering heat grasping onto your skin. The sun waking you up with its gentle touch, every morning just the same. The trees sway side to side. On Tu B'Shevat we thank god for the trees. The community comes together to recognize young adults at Bar or Bat Mitzvahs. We celebrate the state of Israel together.I want to go to the land I call home; Israel. The land of my past becoming the land of my future. Israel is a beauty. I have learned so much from my synagogue. I don't want to just learn. I want to visit Israel. Maybe live in Israel. If I could visit one place, I would visit the land of milk and honey, Israel.

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Metamorphosis by Anthony Martinez Over the wintery Forest, winds howling in rage with no leaves to blow            Trusting the Buddha, good and bad, \I bid farewell To the departing year As the wind now blows Across the trees I see the Branches blossoming.

Shrouded by Dalila MartinezEvery problem that I’m going through bends my mind, casting a shadow to torture me.  Letting go of problems and to surrender completely to our innermost selves and to gain a deeper understanding of our subconscious is not easy in the life of a teenaged girl.  Unexpected things happen, falling all at once like rocks falling down a mountain. We all have realize the possibility  misfortune and the cruel slings of unexpected tragedy.  We should be prepared, and we have to be flexible.I have suffered and continue to experience the pain of almost unspeakable sadness.  I am a weeping willow watching over the river, all alone.Life hits hard, like a comet coming down from space. Wind blows so slow sometimes you can’t even feel it, like time passing by. My dad left me all alone next to a river, and I don’t where to look or go.  Not knowing why he left this big world, haunts me.  Memories return like a boomerang.  Leaving me was his choice; he made a mistake. People leave, nobody sticks by when you need them.  Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong in this world, that I shouldn't exist anymore, I should be extinct like a dinosaur.  I’m all alone like a weeping willow, people surround me, but they are invisible to me.  I don’t wanna be here anymore, there’s too many things going on, that I would just want to crush like crushing leaving from the ground.

Cheat Sheetby Richard Martinez

My friend nowadays feel the need to cheatMaybe he just can't take the heatHe needs to be a liarTo get his grades higherIt makes school easy to beat.

I told him his plan wouldn't workAll he did was laugh and smirkHe thought he had won--Something had to be done--He was just being a jerk.

I went to go talk to the teacherAbout this unethical creatureI warned her of the answer sheetShe needed to stay on her feetTo stop him before he could cheat her.

I figured I gave him a shotTo amend the sin of the answers he broughtI felt kind of downBut not once did I frown--And to this day, I still don't know what he got.

Speaking out can be a hard thing to doPeople can be audacious, in my view Cheating will never truly endBut maybe you should ask a friendSo you never have to feel blue.

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You Don't Know Me by Natalie May

You see me You don't see who I am You know my nameYou don't know what it means  You look into my eyes You can't look into my mind You see my smileYou can't see my scars You hear me laughYou don't hear me cry  You understand how I appearYou don't understand me You bother to notice my mistakes You don't bother to notice what I do right You see that I am giving upYou can't see that I am trying You think that I am tiredYou don't know why that might be You see my eyes, dark and empty You wonder why that is You think that this is all my faultYou don't know, you're the one that caused it You see that I don't talk a lot, I don't have much to say

You don't see that my mind is a nightmare You notice I look fine on the outsideYou don't notice I am broken on the inside You look at meNo, turn awayI feel hopelessYou don't knowYou know who I am on the outsideDo you?NoThere's more that you can't seeThere's things that you will never know But maybe if you looked a little closerYou would see the half of meNo one ever sees So who am I?You don't know meMaybe I don't either

Boardwalk SummerscapeRobert C. McEwen

Children laughing loudBeaches crowded with peopleUrban carnival

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God’s Gasolineby Alex McVicker

Sunlight glimmering through an unseen crack,Dusting this miserable prison.

It's an expressionless cell, with cold floors, and stone walls. Shadowed men slurring;

Foreign phrases, chaotic murmurs.Beyond the rusted, iron door.

Faint voices residing in my mind, bickering and quarreling, Please send me to perdition already. I need to leave.

I see now,There was no point in running, there was no point in hiding.

It's punishable to be different.Punishable for being psychotic!

This is how it was supposed to be... I guess. I have but no reason to deny it.

That the crazy, like me, are sent beyond death. Those dark figures, I knew them to be my friends.

They all thought I was lost, and frightened of harsh realities. But she was the one living in dread, my mother that is.

She told me I was a demon, a witch, a monster. Speaking only the tongue of fear, in my name.

Her unforgiving tone, an icy frost.Hiding me from the real world and confining in the solemn silence.

My vacant cell and my crushed dreams, We’re stuck!

Smothered by my mother's clear lies.My faith falling to that frosted glass floor. Eroding away into man made damnation.

She's leaving me to aimlessly wait. Trusting in a world of unimaginable purgatory,

Where everything feels like fire.Ignited by a gasoline sky.

But, I'll do it for God. He says,

It'll Wash Me Clean.

BlindBy: Shea Messman

They think they can say things about me Tease mePut me downI'm not deaf I hear the remarks I hear them say things I am not dumbI hear a laughI feel a shove As I walk down the hallway I realize I may be blindBut I am not the one whose eyes are closed

Musicby Kalkedan Mulugeta

I heard voices in my head that say“Music can make you a star”Music to me is life.Music to me is when you can see who I really amIt’s like a tornado and thunder hitting the floorWhen I smile music comes to my mindIt makes people to get up and moveYou can hear the music so loud boom!The pop music makes a Dom Dom sound.

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Raging Riverby Timmy Naff                                                           

I am a river running through the land, cold and relaxed like the rolling hills along my banks. Sometimes overflowing with water and filling up like a baby’s eyes while crying. Whenever my brain overflows in thoughts the edges flood and water flows everywhere like a river during a hurricane.

My skin is the rocks and my hair the grass growing throughout the river. The constantly flowing liquid is my blood flowing within the river and out into the ocean. Every time I cry. Everytime I get mad the stream of water gets uncontrollable and compelling. The water becomes white and the rocks and undergrowth gets swept away. When I am jubilant and joyous the water is relaxing like a lagoon during sunset and the current is weak but just strong enough to float along.

I am a relaxing chill person but can easily be irritated at a slight infraction. I am not a big talker and a short small person, but I am very competitive and strong. I do get hurt a lot but always get back up and return.

The BeachBy Joseph Nixon

Walking over crunchy sand,Looking at the sea shells by the seashore.

The glistening blue waterJumping up and down with anger.

Watching dolphins and fish move swift in the water like a cheetah,Wishing that I could swim like them.

Swimming in the cool salty water,I feel as if I'm a shark, waiting for my prey to come

And when the water towers over my head,I jump and ride it to the shore

Like I'm a bull rider and my bull is the wave.We finally have to go when darkness is poured all around us and

Watching the beach disappear from sight until it's, Gone.

A Dream of Paradise by Mac Nowalk

In the bright blue skyAn island where nature flowsRobins chirp freelyA place only seenIn the mind of a dreamerA land so sereneLight pours through oak treesClear waterfalls stream calmlyWind tickles my face

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Re-Naissance  --Elena OgbeShadows are longerLeaves are dancing in the skyThe world is shifting

Where I’m From by Yari Oliva

I’m from homemade flour tortillasI’m from mejora las notasI’m from learning lessons from churchI’m from big boxes of Christmas presentsI’m from watching a novela and hearing the door click openas my mom comes home from work at 10:00 pmI’m from Facetiming in my room while putting on foundationI’m from Forever 21 and McDonald’s Big MacsI’m from Home sweet home

by Yari Oliva

Write the Journey Down by Danielle Oliver

Take your twisted fateAnd turn it upside downRewrite the history booksTake back the stolen crownJump into the future Where fulfilled promises lieWe must always look forwardsAnd aim for the skyThe past is our professorWe’re learning more and moreNo longer will our be potential dormantNor will we be cast to the floorThe key of destiny rests in your handNow, you must open the doorWrite the journey downFly with stories on our wingsHow far can you dream?

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Contradictoryby Daniel Oliver

You’re contradictory, they say.You write poems superimposing picturesque perfectionsYou unabashedly verbally bash yourself and bask in self-pityYou’re contradictory, they say.Your will stands in the middle of a room you linger in the outskirts ofYour mind crawls towards the fire of curiosityYour heart is afraid of an open flameYou’re contradictory, they say.You know who you are as well as you know a perfect stranger you’ve known your whole lifeYou know who you are as well as you know who you will become You’re contradictory, they say.The blankness of the pages of your story are as colorful as the place where your past met your futureYou’re contradictory, they say.You’re the game changer of a game no one else is playingEverybody's seeing, but nobody’s perceiving.You’re contradictory, they say.You fully believe in yourself and your ability to failYou're contradictory, they say.

You’re happy.You’re empty. You’re contradictory.

EquadorKevin Ortuno   I approached the building with a small key in my hand, waiting to meet my grandparents for the first time in Ecuador. I was nervous,  my heart beating so hard. I couldn't wait to meet them.  I was ten back then and it was an amazing experience, Ecuador is the place I want to visit again. I remember the first time when I went to Ecuador.  I opened the door and my  grandparents greeted me with a big smile on their faces, I gave them a big hug. They started to ask me all these questions; “Como estas?” or  “Como esta tu familia?” We talked the whole time until my parents and sisters came. After that my parents sat with my grandparents at the kitchen table. My sisters and I played in the livingroom. It was nine o’clock and my dad told my sisters and I to go to bed. I asked him “why?” He told me; “ Manana vamos ir a la playa.” I was excited.I woke up and I heard my dad yelling; “apuranse vamos a estar tarde.” We got in the car, a few hours later we finally arrived. I stepped out of the car door and felt the strong breeze. I started putting on sunscreen. I was waiting for my sisters to go swimming but they took too long putting on their sunscreen.  When I stepped on the sand my foot was burning so much I sprinted straight to the water. The water was clear as a glass. The smell was horrible; it smelled like rotten eggs. After we went to the beach we went back to my grandparents’  house.  It was time to say goodbye to my grandparents. I wish I could go back soon. I could visit more places and learn more about my culture. I feel as if Ecuador is the place where I belong. I wish I could learn more about my family and ancestry. I'm really looking forward to going back to Ecuador.  

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The Tempest by Cindy OvandoSwirling in the eye, I send silent, warm vibes into people’s souls.  I swirl round an around in the fresh breeze until I reach the edge; from there everything goes downhill, it is crashing down, BLASTING my voice.  Wind flows through my hair, the lightning in my eyes, the clouds on my skin cover every inch.  My words burn like bolts.  I am the storm. Like the winds, my words are powerful.  I’m a tornado that's never quiet. During a debate, I argue as turbulently as the winds.  I fling epithets out like a tornado throwing people out.  My opinions thrash through my mind, wanting to erupt.  My voice floods people's minds as I talk.  Suddenly the tempest quells, an eerie silence descends. Before pronouncing my beliefs; I put myself in the eye of a hurricane, warm but dangerous.  My anger shifts to a calm breeze, making me feel like soft sea winds. “Great job”, I tell myself, seeing the people's faces, as they understand with full force my passionate beliefs.Sometimes I am powerless wind.   I’m like a gentle breeze passing through the flowers, weak as a baby sapling.  Flowers dance with wind.  Leaves spiral like a staircase.  Other times, I’m a alarming,raging cyclone.  I crash intensely into trees as I’m furious, fueled with rage.  I tear them down with intense anger, like a bull.  Flowers are ripped from their roots seeming like a machete did the job.  My vortex always changes speed as my fury mounts.  I am the hurricane.

Otterby Claudia Palacios

I am an otter, calm at times and hard working. Quick at times and playful at any moment. Yes i'm short but with a great mind thriving through tough currents. I become determined when it’s needed and playful at the right moment. Otters don’t always live in a happy place. When the wind comes gushing in and scratching their fur, danger is coming. When their hard work get destroyed they feel a gunshot in their throats.They feel heartbroken when they see their hard work crumble. They live in a constant storm, while their are just trying to survive. I try to stay in a happy mood but there is chaos everywhere. But when the family unites everything is forgotten and you are happy. There are mini otters everywhere but they are happy and playful. Sometimes playing something makes me go back to the good old days. They might underestimate you, but you continue play as long as you're happy. When it’s time to work, it’s time to work! As a family we get through things, good or bad.When a time period of misery comes along we work harder than ever. We work faster than the wind. But yet i'm an otter, calm, quick, and thoughtful. I’m an otter living in a constant storm but with happiness involved. I’m an otter thriving through those tough currents. I’m constantly hyper but calm at times. I’m an otter building and building to a wonderful goal. I’m that otter that doesn't give up to live in paradise later on.

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HauntingBy Sully Peillet-Long

I saw hauntingA translucent figure of a manWith eyes like pools of oilShimmering as the moonlight struck them

He stood with slumped shouldersHis clothes,seemingly old, tattered and frayedHe had a blank expression, no emotionsHis hat, full of holes, and on his hip, a blade

The figure stood there, staring into meNever blinking, never breathingA single leaf blew through himBut he never reacted, never flinched

Baseball By James Pilot

CRACK!The ball soars into the outfieldI run past first base The outfielder picks up the ballI round secondThe outfielder gets a running start I round third and head towards homeThe outfielder throws a bulletI slide The catcher catches the ballThe umpire says, “SAFE!”And the crowd cheers with joy.

5/22/2017 Hand in your piece to WORKSHOP here! (Saturday March 4, 2017 4_00 PM, EST).jpg

https://classroom.google.com/c/NDQ3Mzc3MzUxNFpa 1/1

by Lauren Puttock

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by Holly Pulsifer

Where I’m Fromby Luis Ramos Recinos

I am from my mom’s cheese pupusasI am from all day Saturday church on 7th Jeffy StreetFrom a pepperoni pizza full of olive gardens on topI am from Nelson laughing with my unclesI am from Dimelsa talking about me with my auntsI am from my sister playing Mario with meI am from football with my uncle on a big fieldFrom my PS4 and Call of DutyI’m from Sergio playing Mario KartI am from soccer with my friends

At the Trailhead behind Arlington Mill ; Summer, 2017        by Alexa Reyes

Rapids chase the rocks, Walking by the creaking trees, Here I feel at home

Where I’m Fromby Brayan Rivera Betanco

I am from a farm full of chickensFrom my aunts’ weddingsI am from my cousin’s birthdayFrom lessons at church on Saturday I’m from running at the parkI am from my mom’s Don’t do thisForm my uncle in white pantsI am from spaghettiI’m from playing games at Arlington MillI am from salad at Burger King

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Intrepidus Decoremby Ann Rodriguez

Rome is the home of dozens of blood-loving emperors; the start of so many wars, and the end of so many lives. But you can always find the good things along with the bad. Rome has always had beautiful paintings, sculptures and mosaics-- still up to this day. “Intrepidus decorem” it means fearless beauty. That’s the reason why I would pick this place to visit.I’ve always loved art since I was a kid. So when my teacher taught us about Rome, I was so impressed by every detail she had to say about the place. I noticed that Rome had two faces: one face was beautiful with classical structures and the other one was full of bloodthirsty warriors that went insane because of what their emperor wanted them to do. I could not stop asking questions:“Why couldn’t Romulus and Remus share the throne?”;“Why were the Roman gods so similar to the Greek gods?”;“Why was Rome so problematic?” I asked.Then I saw the most beautiful pieces of artwork, breathtaking landscapes, fascinating constructions, and sculptures that were so realistic, it almost seemed like if they were breathing. All of the buildings that they’ve ever made were all so perfectly architectonic. I was surprised by the fact that the Romans could create so many beautiful works as well as many horrifying atrocities.I can’t help but imagine myself under those gigantic structures, learning more about Roman art and understanding their culture. Right now, I can only hear the clickety-clack of my keyboard researching Roman life. But I know that one day, I’ll walk through the streets of Rome with the biggest smile on my face, breathing the same air that the insane emperors breathed, seeing the same sunset that the Roman artists admired. Rome, for sure, is the one place in the world that I would love to visit.

The Truck By Kevin Rodriguez

I remember being 4 years old in my living room on my cafe brownish soft carpet, crouching. I was crashing my fire truck into my gravedigger monster truck. I was rolling the trucks, and when they crashed they made clanking noises like two pans hitting each other. The fire truck was my favorite because it has really cool features added in like siren noises and a water squirter and lights that flash on and off. I loved the truck so much I told  my dad  I wanted to be a fire truck when I grow up. When I told him, he didn't answer. He was confused. I was still playing, crashing the trucks together  and then one minute  later my dad calls me over by my nickname. He says ‘Kevinator…” and then says “son you can't be a fire truck.” At that moment it felt like he woke me up from a dream and threw in the trash.When I hear this, I’m thinking, why not? It's my dream to be a fire truck. I know if I were a fire truck I would squirt stuff with water, and make siren noises, and crash and bash anything in my way. I felt mad sad and so angry and furious. In my mind I always thought if I try I can be whatever I want to be in life. “I can be whatever I want,” I say.Dad explains why I can’t be what I want to be. I’m trying to listen but i'm distracted by my fire truck and the bad news. Also, I’m trying to forget I feel mad and sad. Dad explains about firefighters. I hear him say that they ride in the truck  and also squirt water but with a big hose.I still feel sad  but I start to think it over in my mind. I accept that I can’t be a firetruck and so i think to myself that a fire truck and a firefighter are the same thing I'm still helping out stop the fire. I decide to be a firefighter.Now that I’ve grown up, I changed my mind. I was still sad but over time I got over it. I learned that you have to plan for what you want to be.  I was ready for something new like being a gamer.  I will need a camera, a console to play on, and a channel on Youtube. If I do make a channel, my name will be Papabean.

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The Perfect Place                                        by Katty Rojas It was an ugly Sunday morning; the wind was whistling. My entire body was trembling. My mother was on her computer, working hard. I could tell she was stressed by the wrinkles on her face she never had. Her eyes were glued to her computer and her fingers were typing non-stop. I have to admit, I felt bad for my mother; she's been working 24/7 lately. I wanted to relieve her, so I made her favorite snack-- ham with bread. I handed her her snack and asked her a question I've been curious about. I asked my mother, “¿Mami, cómo es tu país, Bolivia?” Bolivia, the place I most want to visit.          She thoughtfully answered, “Muy bonito, vivía en el campo. Es muy diferente de aquí en Arlington ”        “¿Cómo?”        “Bueno, aquí en Arlington es muy lleno. One day we're going to visit Bolivia!”        “Tienes razón Mami. Once I get there I'll run until my legs fall off!”        “En Bolivia tendrás un montón de animales para cuidar. The food over there is one thousand times more delicious than here. Los carnavales son fantásticos.”        “I can't wait to hear the animal's unique voices every morning and feel their different fur. I can imagine the food tasting savory and making me salivate. At the carnival I'll dance to the music like nobody's watching.”       My mother giggled, “Estoy seguro de que te encantará allí”      “I'm sure I’ll love it there too, Mom”       I loved that conversation; every single bit of it. I can hear the animals calling my name with delight. When I get to Bolivia, I'll feel free for once like a bird. Comparing Arlington to Bolivia is like comparing a dry salad with no taste and a fresh home-made steak. I can't wait for the moment I arrive there!

Artwork by Britsi Santana-Alonso Photo by Reina Cooper

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Right HooksBy Carson Ruth

When I was in the fifth grade.The final grade of Elementary.I knew a bully.Someone who would pick on other kids just for a kick.I didn't do anything for most of the year because he wouldn't go near me.But one day he picked on one of my friends. I kinda got involved then.I told my friend to stand up to him.Because the school hasn’t done anything. Sometimes street justice has to be the answer if that is what it comes to.Sometimes you have to fight for yourself and what you believe in.So that's what I told him.

I also gave a slightly more lighthearted piece of advice. “Confuse him, say something that’ll throw him off before you go for it,” I whisper.The next day was a special one.Everyone coming into school on Friday, excited for the weekend.The big bad bully was doing his usual thing at recess. My friend was shaking.I even thought that he wasn't going to do it for a split second.I knew, though, as I saw him go up to the bully.That something big was about to happen.“I can taste colors” he said.

The bully just stood there confused as the explosive punch connected with his jaw.The whole fifth grade lit up with surprised faces.The bully just rubbed his face before beginning to cry.That was the end of that issue.The bully stopped bullying and the school was safe again.All because of one single punch.

I learned a lesson that day.A really important lesson.When bureaucracy fails to meet in loco parentis things can be ended with a clean right hook.

Instructions Includedby Luqman Salahadin

Here I am at the age of 14.Conceived on the 4th Sunday of February in 2002.

Those 9 months went like zoom!!This is what I should have told you in the womb.

I may have been light skinned, skinny, and shortIf I caused you any pain you can take me to court

I may have not spoken for the first five years I bet this caused you so many fears

But I didn't understand why the heck you was talking Inside the womb I would have recommended

Some different kind of food that I never had expected I may have been quiet

I just didn't want to talk

I wanted someone who didn't chase me But it wasn't your fault

I was just too smart but I don't want to bragBut I remember taking things out of your bag

What could you do?I was five So you tamed me

So I was told bad NEWS So what and that changed me

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Silly Billyby Jose Salmeron

There was a old man named BillyHe went out and it was chilly

Two dogs to be fedHe soon went to bed

And did I mention he’s silly?

Ferretsby Richard Sanchez-Candia

There are four pet stores with ferretsFerrets like to eat carrots like parrotsFerrets like to have funLike horse playTaking care of a ferret is a meritI buy a ferret with a credit cardFerret are small or large and cuteWith furThere are white ferrets There are brown ferretsThere are coffee-colored ferretAnd all ferret are my favorite pet

Where I am Fromby Jennifer Sanchez Martinez

I’m from watching pandas at the National ZooFrom Pupusas and chicken soupI’m from sitting on the red sofa and my grandma coming over celebratingHappy to be homeI’m from going to church and listening to prayersI’m from watching makeup tutorialsI’m from painting my face every color of the rainbowI’m from vanilla cake slicesI’m from Facetiming friends to make them giggle

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Soccer in My Roomby Edgardo Excobar Santos

“Hey!” Mom says when I play soccer in my roomBecause she doesn’t like that.When I visit my grandmother my mom talks to meTap tap on the door,Then she talks me one more timetap tap on the door “before I slap you!”I said “goal!” when Barcelona scored a goal.

Havenby Athina Sarreas

Crashing of the sea sounds sweeter than any melodyWaves clear like glass

Im at rest on the pale soft sandSeagulls call

The ocean respondsThe sky is an art pallet

Colors clashing in perfect harmony The sun falls asleep

Into the ocean

Bequeathedby Jack Sasaki

Short cloudbursts of rainThe sun peeks over the hills

Gifting a rainbow

Hades’s Releaseby Quinn Schroeder

early seeds sproutingPersephone emerging

icy air recedes

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Where I am Fromby Yeliltza Sejas

I am from soccerFrom pique macho and asado

I am from the pencil under the drawingI am from the soccer field and park

From Do good in schoolI am from HispanicFrom soccer gamesFrom a safe school

I am from loving friendsI am from family to love

Dreams by Kara Shapiro

I had dreamsDreams were always a part of me.

Those dreams let me escape my world and set me free. I could breathe again.

I felt like I could soar through the sky, Or sail away to the middle of the sea. Those dreams were my time to shine.

My time to be myself. I wanted to share my dreams so I did.

“You're not good enough.”“You won't make it far.” “Try something else.”

“Who encouraged you to do this?” “You have no talent.” All the people said.

I never knew people could be so cruel. But I promised I would never believe them.

Then all of the sudden Out of nowhere

They disappearedVanished.

I searched for them,I waited for them.

But,They left.

And they never came back.All because I let myself believe

What everyone said.

Sometimes sharing your heart with the world is a bad thing.And silence is a good thing.

Like the Bible says: ‘Don't throw your pearls before the Swine’

Meaning don't throw your heart to people that won't appreciate it or don't deserve it.

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Schoolby Fahmida Sokhonna

The bell rings “ding ding”Open the door adn say “welcome back”

Everyone screaming and laughing “hahaha”Teacher says “Shhh Shhh Shhh”

Cafeteria hummingFeet getting ready to play

The bell rings and says it’s time to go home

GloomBy Jonathan Stewart

I saw gloom.A storm had started as I was midway through the field.

It stood like a fence.Iit seemed that it was the only thing in between me and a city.

Their would surely be sound shelter there.It seemed to have low buzz, self-contained within,

Unknowing of the outside world.A tree I didn’t notice before came into sight.

I ran over to it, desperate for shelter.Under the tree, I saw a tiny wilted flower.

So, I waited for the rain to pass.Waited, waited, and waited.

And after waiting so long, my hope of leaving wilted too.

Fortunate Oceans    by Zahra Qureshi                  Variation of twists and turns          Shapes seem to float like a boat           In an ocean full of colors                   Wait! There is a spot of space             Where I can see the powdered ground              And I will find many of my fortunes           My eyes are searching              As I scour the shoreline                                            Sure, I will find them

Untitledby Aarati Tandukar

Don't tell me to goBecause I will say noI live my life like this I will make a dissThat may cause you to breakOr make you awake So leave me alone Cause I am in the zone

Let me dream So i can screamLet me forget So i don't regretLet me fearSo i can cheerLet me lieSo i can flyLet me cryLike a skyLet me smile To be worthwhile

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Deauville Beach, Normandy, 2016 by Belen Tesfaye

On a salty beachWe dashed towards the ocean Galloping like stallions

CucumbersBy Rose Torres

I see mellownessI see the furry white towel draping down my shoulderI see a fountain made out of stones,marbled stonesMellowness, a shimmery gleam granting every part of my skin a warm and glistening feeling Mellowness, it invites me in, like a hugMellowness, it’s silky and tender, it’s there for me when everything is concealed away by mistMy mellowness consists of cheesecake, everywhereIt’s my safe haven, where my thoughts and ideas wander

Natureby Henessis Umacata

Nature is such a beautiful creationIt has animals that makes up its nation All they want is a beautiful land Why can't we just give them a hand And oh how I hear those singing birds Or maybe some sheep traveling in their herdsOh what a wonderful place this would be If we could leave the ones in peace living on land or sea

Loveby Ashley Calix Villeda

When I think about loveI only see your faceLove is like red rosesLove is like butterfliesLove is as beautiful as the sunsetLove is like warEasy to startHard to endImpossible to forget.

Loving PoemBy: Brandon WarnerI saw love.Love has many friends and is always right by your sideWhenever you feel down Love is always there to pick you up.Love makes you feel like you're the most important person in the world.Love is the reason you get up in the morning, Love is why you care so much if you lose,Love is why you fight your way to the end.Love is like a brownie you can't stop till you finish it.Love is life changing and deep down inside everyone has it.

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On the Fruits of Delightful Diligenceby Lily Watson

Rip out intrudersA small grain of life is sownRiver time flows by...A bud appearsAjuga, blue like wildfireRed primroses poppingTulips unfurl their golden petalsIn this garden choreography.

Dark, Mysterious  Whirlwindby Emma Weaver

The room was as loud as the zoo on an easygoing summer day. As I walked in, the new girl, the class got silent like a presentation was going on. I took a seat next to two girls-- One as blond as the sand on the beach, The other auburn, like the deer running through the forest.

We connected like puzzle pieces. We whispered secrets like the wind.We joked, We gossiped,We laughed,Until the winds turned.Somehow the winds picked upand got harder, stronger to bear.A storm was brewing. The wind turning into a  mysterious black funnel cloud.Depression

DarknessThe deer was hurt.She was wounded.Self-harmNo one could help.She pleaded, “Please don’t tell.”

We kept it that way.But problems got worse. Cloaked in her own veil.Trapped in a full hurricane.We were drowning in her secret. We needed to swim.We told.Heads bobbing above the waves,Deep breathes.The deer fought us, at first.Help came to her.But slowly she got up on her wobbly legs.Newly born, took her first step.

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Tented Soulby Nora Wien-Herman

Camping among the blackA white orb, looking down on you from the far horizon

Even though danger still lurks                                                                                                      

That is where you long to be Among the open sky and the rustling grass

You are free to soarLet your heart beat to a drum

Be at peace once more

That's Whyby Samantha Wiener

You ask why,I say I'm just tired.

It's not wrong, But you don't know what ‘tired’ means.

Sure, I don't sleep,But there's so much more to ‘tired’.

I'm tired of being disposable,Tossed away like some used tissue

You empty your problems and feelings into,Crumple up, and throw away.

I'm tired of being cut out of conversations,Your sentences like scissors,

And me, the worn, unraveled string That hangs off your shirtsleeve.

I'm tired of being left behind, My existence forgotten and faded Into the background of your lives

That I so desperately wanted to be a part of.

That's all I ever wanted, really.

I'm tired of being talked overEvery single time I open my mouth.

Like an idea sprouts in my mind And you trample over it.

I was full of wishful thinking, And now I’ve come to rethink what I wished for.

Nobody here is who I gave you credit for.

Who I thought you were Shouldn't render themselves terrifying

In the eyes of someone who's only hopeWas people like you.

Who I thought you were Shouldn't make my anxiety flare up

When I lay my head rest And leave me the real definition of “tired”

Because I lie awake Fearing you'll eventually tear down your illusions

And speak your true mind.

So yeah. I'm all kinds of tired.

You wanted to know why?

It's because I don't trust you anymore.

That’s why.

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by Samantha Weiner

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More Than a Quiet Wave By Chiara Willson

    I am the water that runs towards the shore at the beach.  I don’t always feel like running to it, but gravity forces me to. I am seen as uninterested, but my memory captures every detail.  I

always notice everything and everyone.  I am reserved but can be extroverted at times.  I am an ocean wave.

   Education is important to me because my desire is to be successful in my chosen path.  Like a wave rippling against the

shoreline, I will achieve my dreams.  I am constantly asked, “Why are you so shy?”  I seem quiet and introverted like a tranquil wave but I can be strong and forceful like a crashing force.  Only a few people who are close to me, see me as a crashing wave.  With

them, I speak my mind like water that rushes to the edge without thought.  I strive to become a balance of relaxed and intense

waves one day.    Everyday, I am surrounded by different types of waves.  Some are calm, like me, but most are fierce waves.  At school, it seems

like there a lot of robust waves, crashing the shoreline. It is sometimes challenging to be a quiet wave in the middle of all the other ones.  I try to surround myself with other waves like me. I

hope to push towards the shore in a strong way like those forceful waves.  Little by little, I plan to gather strength from both the

crashing waves and the weaker ones to become a strong, brave wave crashing against the shoreline.

by Yesley Vasquez

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 Rise and Fall by Julia Van Lare

I used to floatWith the breathing of the waves,With sand dollars beneath my feetAnd the neverending horizonThe familiar smell of sweat, of seaweedThe sun melting into the depthsAnd me, bobbing, diving, dunkingWith a final glance I sunk, with the ocean stillBreathing in my wake

Where I’m Fromby Yesley Vasquez

I am from outside.From the cherry blossom trees and the sound of the birds.I am from the city where I see a car pass every time I look out the window.I am from the summer with longer days and bright colors.I am from the playground swing watching smiles on kids’ faces.I am from fall with the smell of pumpkin and dressing up for Halloween.I am from the good smell of tamales cooking with my family in the kitchen.I am from December’s cold snow outside my door while I am inside my warm room.

Loveby Ashley Calix Villeda

When I think about loveI only see your faceLove is like red rosesLove is like butterfliesLove is as beautiful as the sunsetLove is like warEasy to start Hard to endImpossible to forget.

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Literary Magazine Staff

Caroline AramendiaShushantika BaruaAnam BrennanElisabeth CoderreElizabeth HallAlexander HemelConor HoganNatalie MaySofia MillerDanielle OliverDelaney PriceLauren PuttockRa’Nya TaylorElizabeth Tippens

Advisors:Michelle Van LareMeg Hunter

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