Poetry
I’m very happy today.
I found a gold dollar
I spent on a soda.
Maybe it’s me
Or am I really crazy?
I don’t think I’m 42.
I have a very joyful soul.
My heart is gold like corn.
Or is it the sun on my shirt?
Like some kids
I’m very sad
when it’s not my birthday.
I can’t figure out
why I’m full of doubt.
Should I choose the red or blue cup?
Keyerra Hamilton
Coffey Middle School
Article# 851, Created Jun. 6, 2006 :: Last Update: Jun. 5, 2009
Poetry is water.
Turn on.
Pick it up with your hands and swallow it down your
throat.
And now it spills.
Turn on more water.
Anthony Cheairs
Bunche Elementary
Article# 850, Created Jun. 6, 2006 :: Last Update: Jun. 5, 2009
Trying to have some peace
you can barely go to sleep
because your eyes open up
every time the horns beeps.
No stopping cars rocking.
Don’t you hear the bass?
Driver bops in black tints
so you can’t see his face.
People scrapping. Goons jacking,
Oh the low down dudes macking.
The wind blows, full of
trash talking in the air
It’s all good in the life of the hood.
Whips pass. What you asking for?
You better keep your mouth closed
You don’t want to end up a victim of Joy Road.
Rashad Williams
Cody High School
Article# 849, Created Jun. 6, 2006 :: Last Update: Jun. 5, 2009
Archers standing guard
with piercing red, black and purple arrows.
Blues, oranges, yellows and pinks.
Stretches beyond my imagination.
I smell paint.
Tick Tock
soothes yet annoys me.
I smell green.
Green is reachable.
One two three
made it up.
Glow rests upon Cherokee.
Indian red beauty
higher than comfortable.
Windows are clean.
Cleaner than yesterday.
Blues, yellow, limes, orange and pink
beauty.
Tick Tock. Thump Thump.
The drummer boys appear.
Little Drummer Boy.
Blues, yellow, orange and pink.
The wind allows gold to sing beautifully.
Tug of War!
I declare war!
Children or not. Jump ropes,
arched brows,
mathematic symbols.
Not good at division.
Number 10 with this one, and that one, and another one.
Running... I feel it.
Tick Tock.
Peach blue.
Thump Thump.
Excellent artist,
Big Red!!
Reigns are being pulled.
So I pulled the reigns.
Dark brown saves and pure gold.
The book balanced on her head.
I wait.
( sigh )
Brittany Kellum
Crosman Alternative High School
Article# 848, Created Jun. 6, 2006 :: Last Update: Jun. 5, 2009
Walking into this dark dead end room with these lights flickering on and … and off and … and on and I’m so nervous that my hands are sweating as if my fingertips were lighters feeling all alone and all I want is for someone to understand my fear and pain and to console me and blow out the fire on my fingertips and tell me he won’t drop my tooth in my mouth like his hands were sweating too and to tell me that I won’t die from being stabbed by a surgical tool and for them to lift my chair that is dipped so steep and for them to turn on the lights so when I’m walking in the room it’s not dark and it’s not dead end and when it hurts I can move.
Norman Shepherd
Mumford High School
Article# 847, Created Jun. 6, 2006 :: Last Update: Jun. 5, 2009
Blood courses
through my fingers
numb
forcing its way
down from
under my fingernails
sweeps into my pen
overtaking the ink
and bleeds into
words on paper.
Robyn Arnett
Osborn High School
Article# 846, Created Jun. 6, 2006 :: Last Update: Jun. 5, 2009
I remember when the wonderful beats
first reached my ears,
my world changed.
The definition of music converted to so much more; I remember hearing
the Chicano rhymes, blast full pace
and the words explode with aggression and grace.
Rhyme after rhyme
the scenery in my mind
became more than a blurred vision
frozen in time.
I closed my eyes and let my heart
reminisce in
sand while the waves of the sea moved in patterns,
from one second
to another my world was
caught up in a hurricane
of wonderful notes, words, voices.
Chicano Rap is a beautiful trillium in a pasture of roses.
A unique flower of three petals in the midst
overexposed red,
glowing imminently.
However
looked over with
hot anger, lush hate and
disgust at difference.
Chicano rap speaks of situations
we Latinos go through:
Drama, Pain, Love and Familia.
Within the creation
of intricate beats,
new ears are born to listen.
Listen.
Angeles Gavia
Western International High School
Article# 845, Created Jun. 6, 2006 :: Last Update: Jun. 5, 2009
