3rd Period's 2017-18 Poems for Poet Laureate's Contest

By Seth Arnold

Trees

Away from the hustle and bustle

Far from the danger and perils

Are the elders of our world

Ever growing

Giving us air

Giving us life

Ever growing

Slowly disappearing

Destroyed by greed

Ever growing

Towering fall

Rooted strong

Ever growing

Soon lost forever

 Consumed

Ever growing

Giving us safety

Hoping to get it in return

Ever growing

But soon no longer growing

i n  t  h  e   d   a   r   k

By Emma Hill

it’s easier to tell the truth in the dark

when no one can see your face

or how much your hands are shaking

there is safety in the nighttime

when almost nobody is listening, watchING, STARING, judging

your every move

in the light every emotion is achingly clear

and your face can betray you (don’t crysmilelaughfrowncry)

with the slightest of expressions

the light illuminates your thoughts

and you become a stained glass window

your colors and your motives plain for all to see

but the late (or early?) hours

disguise all of your features

flattening the landscape, and by extension, you

your whispered confessions to the ceiling

if heard by hungry listeners gossips

can be misconstrued as nonsense spouted from a dream

it’s easier to tell the truth in the dark

when your face is cloaked in shadows

and no one can see your tears

By Kevin Jessup

It all started on that one summer day,

when “Bye Kevin” was always the thing you say.

No matter how you felt or wanted to feel,

I saw your eyes on me every Sunday meal.

Not long after, we formally met,

and our friend helped us get set, also since

you thought of me as a prince,

and loved me like no other.

But now I’m not even a brother, to you

For doing the right thing with you.

It’s amazing how fast it may seem

when your reality births another dream.

But when dreams end, it’s time to wake up

and continue your life against the corrupt.

Then again, a dream awakens from slumber

as in harmony, with the brain going dumber,

knowing what you had yesterday will be there tomorrow,

even when you feel dead, misfortunate, or in sorrow.

Your life may not matter to the broken ones,

To all the haters and have-dones,

but know you are important to this society,

which only functions if all acts mighty.

Most of us know who we are whether we want to or not,

we want to be free, to soar as the ones with hearts.

Do not be belittled by your own love,

for it only wants what is best for your love,

and keep it on a leash,

for you never know when it may increase.

By Anna Johnson

in the dark

i can see the light

it’s just out of reach

mocking me

the more I run

the longer the distance

i can hear the voices

calling out into the nothingness

i strain to listen

it all goes quiet

silence is loud

i can feel them all around me

pulling me, pushing me

dragging me around

pinning me to the ground

so tired of fighting, i let them

i tried to run, but i am blind

fumbling through in the darkness

until i could find a way out

the problem was, there was none to be found

in this strange yet beautiful place i now call home

“The Trip”

            By Jackson Paulk

            The day was young,

            The sun stood high in the sky,

            The morning was sightful,

            It could make almost all problems fade away for a while.

           

            The Large boat’s engine hummed in the quiet day,

            Farther and farther it carried us into the bright blue sea,

            Land was so small very hard to see,

            Onwards to America yes we went with glee.

            The land of the free,

            There was nothing in the world that i’d rather see

            Our old home was torn by war,

            Safe and homey no more.

            Days and days passed how long would we be,

            Land was upon us as the eye could see,

            People began cheering loudly,

            We were going to America proudly.

            Our lives would soon change for the better,

            We arrived upon land and we all received a letter

“Welcome to The U.S.” the letter said,

            A fresh start at life there was nothing better.

“Broken House”

By Kathereyne Purser

One long road it was that lead.

Overgrown vines and trees lay about,

That beautiful day went quiet,

As I saw that house which was silent.

Violets, hundreds of them, lined the side

Beautiful they may have been,

But not with that house.

Little by little the darkness tok what was left of the broken house.

Dust filled the air as the light rained in;

Glistening the atmosphere

Silent it was yet silent it was not,

As creaks filled that silent broken house

Pictures frames broken like the hearts of this family,

Untouched for years by the devastation.

Memories rushed back to the mind.

“Smoke filled the air as the fire burned, the fire that took it all.”

Stepping closer to that room came consequences.

“Don’t go!”, I screamed, “Don’t go!”

I could feel the heat hitting like bricks,

One wrong step and the house would take it all.

The air was heavy

Walls black with ash

One room. Gone.

He’s gone forever.

“Determination”

By Dominic M. Sasser

The turf is the only thing between them and us.

Fifty yards of a hatred that has been overwhelming us.

A rivalry that has stood for generations.

The whistle pierces through the dusk into their minds.

For us, it is a permission slip to go light up their world like the Fourth of July.

Adrenaline is the driving force of the pounding that we give and receive.

We remain relentless in our efforts to succeed tonight.

Back and forth, we push through the pain.

The extreme high of scoring is what we feed our energy off of.

The battle for the crowning of “Region Champion” is underway.

It is halftime, and we rush into the locker room, battered and bruised.

There is no time to feel sorry for ourselves and no time for pity.

There is still a war to be fought out on that field.

Bloody and tired, we stride out there with a smirk on our face,

Because we both know that it was a mistake to challenge us with a home field advantage.

Only seconds left and the game is on the line.

Emotions flowing, we give one final push towards the goal.

Our final efforts were not rewarded.

Down on the goalline, our hearts sank with defeat.

This is not a tale with a “happily ever after.”

“Game 2”

By Connor Senters

Listen up and open your ears,

And remember it now;

For this game was played but how.

We arrived around four-ish or so,

But we had been ready days before.

While warming up our arms felt alright,

With our opponents watching.

Then it started,

They scored first with three on the board,

But we answered back with three of our own.

A game like this would be a good nailbiter,

Each team matching each other inning for inning;

Until the fifth when the momentum shifted.

With a few bloop hits we couldn’t defend,

Our opponents gained back the lead again.

All wasn’t in vain however,

Everyone was truly giving their best;

With diving catches and great hits.

Our team was solid a point you couldn’t miss.

Next time we’ll play better than before,

This time we won’t lose, we’ll win to make it up,

And then we’ll win more and more.

“Tears of the Broken Hearted”

By Molly Sims

A poem to my one true love,

you will truly be missed,

I write this as an oath to you,

your lips, the last i’ll kiss.

My darling your smile shined so bright,

your hair: the ocean waves.

Your essence never leaves my mind,

and stays there every day.

On that eerie September night,

the darkness took your life,

and with your life it took my soul,

my dear beloved wife.

I long to see you just once more,

your deep ocean blue eyes,

to hear the sweet sound of your voice,

lovely like the sunrise.

But with the remembrance of your beauty,

comes remembrance of pain,

and that dreadful September night,

when all life in me was drained.

“A Fairy Tale”

By Adalyse Smetzer

It may be that

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,”

And it was a tuffet Miss Muffet sat.

Mad Hatter acts likes he’s still in boyhood.

Even Little Red Riding wore a hood.

But all they are is fiction,

A Fairy Tale.

The stories can become an addiction.

But it’s not a tale when she bails

Standing in her gown and veil.

She ran away,

Scared of her feelings.

While in hiding, she’d pray

For forgiveness as a way of dealing.

Still she felt so much while kneeling.

Emotions are hard to identify,

But a decision needs to be made.

All she can do is stare at the sky.

Yet it came to her while a cloud started to fade.

She should have stayed.

“Squirrels”

By Nicholas Smith

Up in a tree,

Scurrying from branch to branch.

Every now and again they run  down the trunk,

In search for an acorn,

That they will stuff in their cheeks.

What is their purpose,

Or meaning of life?

Maybe God planned them to bury acorns,

So that trees will spread across the land.

Maybe they're just here to look cute.

No matter what they're for,

Their presence here is still quite nice.

You can view them from your backyard,

And watch them as they go,

And even feed them a little snack.

Some people on this earth

Have bad intentions for small creatures.

They seek out just to be cruel to these cute fellows

Some just kill them for fun,

And some kill them for food.