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    Poetry in Public 2013

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      Poetry in Public

      A Project of Mr. Stewart’s

      Eighth Grade English Students

      April 2013

      Mister Stewart

      Copyright 2013 Mister Stewart

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

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

      Period One Picture

      Period Two Picture

      Period Three Picture

      Period Four Picture

      Period Eight Picture

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

      BB P4 – “A hot summer day”

      EB P1 – “Let the hearts beat forever!”

      KB P8 – “Madness”

      RB P3 – “Looking over the whole world”

      AC P4 – “Eagle Eye”

      DC P8 – “FLASH”

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

      JD P4 – “Waiting for My Wonderland”

      HF P4 – “Everyone and everything is quiet”

      SF P4 – “Outside”

      IG P3 – “Butterflies”

      IG P4 – “The darkness”

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

      GH P0 – “Forgetting”

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

      NH P1 – “The world is unfair”

      TH P2 – “Do not take apart your computer”

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

      BJ P3 – “My black box of joy”

      ZJ P3 – “The black canvas covered the sky”

      SK P1 – “On a boat like a boss”

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

      AL P1 – “Life”

      RL P8 – “Interrupted”

      TL P1 – “You might hate her”

      AM P4 – “Above”

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

      MM P0 – “Forgetting”

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

      SM P2 – “The Sky”

      ANP3 – “Morning”

      TN P8 – “The sun rose not even thinking”

      AP P3 – “Hair the color of lions fur”

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

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

      LP P2 – “School is a jail”

      BQ P3 – “I remember the day of moonlight”

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

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

      AS P2 – “Soccer is what I play”

      AS P3 – “A Morning”

      YS P8 – “Dreams”

      JT P8 – “The Almighty Queen”

      SV P2 – “Everywhere in the world clocks tick”

      CY P1 – “The sun, warm and majestic”

      Period One

      Period Two

      Period Three

      Period Four

      Period Eight

      AA P4

      A cloudy day, no light, only shade,

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

      I’m at a park,

      Not just any park though,

      One where Colossal structures frolick and tower over,

      My presence is of a mosquito’s to them,

      I stand in their shadows just as Wander did.

      Their looks, they begin to bother,

      I can’t take it any longer,

      His spirit absorbs me and I attack,

      I search for the beacon, it will appear,

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

      He knows the same of me, it disturbs him,

      He turns, but I’ve already mounted,

      Climbing so high holding on by hairs,

      Reaching the peak,

      My meter is done, the time has come,

      I shoot towards the ground,

      Smashing, flipping, holding on for my life,

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

      Such a rush! Adrenaline pumps through my veins,

      But I must not stop I know that she waits,

      My beautiful Mono, unconscious and feeling gray,

      Lying on the stone where I left her,

      Enchanted and anything but gay,

      There’s no color where she lay,

      I must change that,

      Fifteen colossi left,

      I must conquer them all.

      * * * *

      BB P4

      “A hot summer day”

     

      There’s nothing quite like the satisfaction

      Of  a radiant sun

      Beaming down own on your skin.

      Sitting by the pool,

      The scorching rays soaking into your arms

      Ever so calming.

      Your headphones in,

      Hearing nothing but the soothing music

      That acts almost like a lullaby.

      Relaxation at it’s finest.

      In the distance you see a few kids,

      Running and enjoying the warmth.

      The water so calm and motionless,

      Scintillating in the sunlight.

      It appears as a glass wall.

      So fragile,

      That even the slightest touch,

      Will shatter the beauty.

      Over by the grill, you hear the sizzle,

      Of the warm, burning steak.

      You smell the fresh cut grass

      On this hot, serene, summer day.

      * * * *

      EB P1

      Let the hearts beat forever!

      Let them run and be wild

      Screaming ‘I love you!’

      As they explore and learn

      They will be broken and scared.

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

      Let the hearts beat forever!

      For scared hearts are everywhere.

      And new hearts are barely spared.

      Teach them that they’re not alone

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

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

      Let the hearts beat forever!

      Because now that your heart is fixed

      It’s up to you to spread the word

      Don’t give up.

      You’re not alone.

      You’ll find love soon.

      So keep moving on.

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

      Don’t worry, you’ll exceed

      In helping the new hearts wondering.

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

      For love is just a bump in the road

      That leads to paradise.

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

      * * * *

      KB P8

      “Madness”

      As doubtfulness arises.

      You question your existence;

      Antipathy begins between you and your mind.

      You rage and ask, why?

      People call you odd.

      You begin to agree;

      And you rage,

      But still no change.

      You ask, why?

      You search for answers;

      But there are none.

      You keep searching;

      Looking for answers.

      But there are none.

     

      You begin to ask,

      Am I mad?

      You rage,

      But still no change.

      Your mind calls you eccentric.

      You ask, why?

      You search for answers;


      But there are none.

      As the antipathy becomes too much

      You become mad.

      You plead with your mind,

      Please no more.

      But it won’t stop.

      And you blink out.

      * * * *

      RB P3

      Looking over the whole world,

      I could see everything imaginable

      The mist of the clouds

      grazed my face and I inhale

      I blink

      8,000 feet high

      The altitude makes my brain feel nutty

      It might double over in my skull

      An area stuffed with history

      Old and new

      Like a turkey on Thanksgiving

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

      He goes on and on

      Filling my plate with too much Quechua

      I turn to the left and

      The vistas steal my breath

      I turn to the right

      I am blinded by llama

      This llama is looking

      He wants a battle

      “Terrazas” my

      Teacher exclaims

      Interrupting our duel

      There is so much urgency in her voice

      So unnecessary

      Relax

      Breath in that chilled mountain air

      Click a picture

      A nice one

      to decorate your Instagram

      Memorize the green

      The green is everywhere

      Say goodbye

      Roll back down the mountain

      Say goodbye to Machu Picchu

      * * * *

      AC P4

      “Eagle Eye”

      Almond shaped

      Round as a freckle on your cheek

      Closing like a garage door

      Or opening

      Like the wings of a hawk

      Perhaps a raven

      Who knows

      It's unperceivable

      Until you turn around

      Let me see them

      Small trees on the top brim

      The trunk so twig-like

      Add a hue

      To fit your pigment

      To lift them up

      So the trunks and leaves

      Face the sky

      And inside

      A white

      Like cracking open a coconut

      A thousand black firecrackers

      Running around a black hole

      And the brim

      A circuit of any shade

      Or many shades

      Like the canvas

      Of frustrated composer

      A cobalt looking glass

      A grassy kaleidoscope

      Chestnut binoculars

      Lavender below them

      You seem so tired

      Saddened

      Two beacons

      Maneuvering me

      To your affections

      Agitation, Anger

      Lust, Bliss

      Sometimes I can't tell

      You hide behind a veil

      * * * *

      DC P8

      “FLASH”

      On that frightful night.

      It was darker then a black hole.

      The only light was from a howling moon.

      I gassed across the street and saw him.

      My shaking hand rose.

      Two quick flashes.

      Bang Bang.

      Those were the last sounds

      he heard.

      The last thing he saw,

      blood coming from his heart

      His face was sad and scared.

      His last words will haunt me

      forever.

      “Why, what for?”

      Now I hear the police.

      They put me in the car.

      The slam of justice

      hit me like a brick.

      Prison is my life now.

      I know nothing else.

      This is my life.

      Don’t make my mistakes.

      * * * *

      JC P1

      In the night she shines with all its beauty.

      The moon knows how lonely it is at night yet,

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

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

      And feel alone at 3am.

      She’s beautiful the way she shines

      In the darkness she’s mysterious,

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

      The sky its all hers.

      No matter how bad the day was when you lay down

      And look at her

      You see how lonely she is and

      How sad she seems

      But she’s still there hanging on

      And so should you.

      * * * *

      JD P4

      “Waiting for My Wonderland”

      It’s had my attention since my first glimpse.

      At such a young age, so easily distracted.

      The bright colors and foolishness

      It made no sense

      But that was the point.

      Dark forest green

      Bright Cheshire pink.

      The brother’s tale of oysters.

      And songs of merry unbirthdays.

      The wonderful land of Wonderland

      Forgotten for years.

      Until found again.

      New perspectives, new knowledge.

      The different reality seen with different eyes.

      Now not only entertainment

      But an escape from other’s realities.

      Today the insignificant girl does not hold my attention.

      Nor does the Hatter or the Hare

      Though they are close runner ups.

      It’s the feline that holds no malice towards Alice

      That is the star of my show.

      He always has his grin

      He speaks the most nonsense of them all.

      Mischief is his entertainment

      And trickery is his hobby.

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

      Though there seems to be no age limit

      And that offers some relief.

      I’m still waiting for a glimpse of McTwisp,

      And a gathering with Iracebeth.

      Still waiting, waiting for my Wonderland.

      * * * *

      HF P4

      Everyone and everything is quiet,

      no one even blinks.

      The ball is turned three time in the servers hand.

      A long breath escapes,

      like the soft morning wind,

      the ball is thrown, hit,

      than flies through the air,

      as if it was trying to reach the clouds,

      being bumped, set, hit,

      the never ending sound of the ball swimming

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

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

      a girl jumps with her hands outstretched,

      the fingers fall and smack!

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

      There is one short moment of silence,

      before the crowd cheers.

      * * * *

      SF P4

      “Outside”

      Outside, the smell of pine by the river

      drifting lazily along in the long summer days,

      drifting past a cabin, cozy, warm.

      The red paint peels slightly from age,

      and the cool breeze comes down from the appalachian mountains

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

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

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

      eating from the overgrown, untended garden, carefully stepping

      over the rusted spade and hoe.

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

      like a broken tree branch after a storm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      His gun was taken, and his food gone.

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

      Just because he wanted to survive in this overpopulated world.

      The raven cawed twice, then flew away.

      * * * *

      IG P3

      “Butterflies”

      He stands.

      Tall.

      Proud.

      All of his towers, made of stone.

      They come to the window.

      Our orange and black butterflies.

      Our monarchs.

      She wears gowns of silk.

      Adorned with amethysts and diamonds.

      He with robes of purple.

      They both stand like him.

      Like their symbol of power.

      Tall.

      Proud.

      He stands.

      Tall.

      Proud.

      He may be gray,

      But his heart is white.

      The color of the sun.

      Happiness.

      Power.

      His heart holds their seats.

      Holds their butterflies.

      Holds their land.

      He can be seen from miles away.

      He stands.

      Tall.

      Proud.

      He is loved by his people.

      He is loved by his butterflies.

      Because of his beauty.

      His power.

      He stands.

      Tall.

      Proud.

      * * * *

      IG P4

      The darkness,

      Everywhere,

      A never ending beast

      That wraps you up in his cold grip.

      The only resistance is given

      By the faint light of the moon.

      But even that,

      Is swallowed up.

      For a time the night rules

      In total control

      And then,

      The smallest slivers of light,

      Heralding the coming

      Of a new day.

      The darkness resists,

      Clinging adamantly

      To his empire

      Fighting even harder

      As the cancerous light grows.

      The light keeps coming,

      In a never ending stream.

      The darkness,

      Already coming to a close

      Vanishes,

      Without a trace

      When his conflagrant mortal enemy

      Begins her fiery ascension

     
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