Imagine a love

A love so wide

One that comes from above

And is with you side by side

A love that builds

A love that gives peace

A love that heals

A love that will never cease

A love that is so pure

You can make it your foundation

It can also be the cure

To all of humanity’s situations

One that makes you feel secure

Like in the arms of a loving Father

And keeps you rest assured

That it’s with you forever

A love that can be a friend

A present help in times of need

A love that will never end

And can also be received

One that can’t be compared

Even to the treasures of this generation

But it can also be shared

With people from every nation

doubt is when you place too much faith in someone’s else’s convictions. when you use that lowercase “i,” when you won’t own up, won’t speak your mind. and you feel like you’re drowning, drowning, falling under the waves of their harsh stares and criticizing glares. and you feel like you can’t breathe, breathe, exhale even though you’re the one holding your breath. and you let their words replace your own until your words are no longer yours anymore.

and that’s because you let them. 

you let them bully your hopes and your dreams while you stood idly by and let them suffocate the very thing that could’ve changed the world. you made yourself believe that they were superior and placed them on a pedestal of your own making until all you could hear was a cry for conformity and a “you can’t, you can’t, that’s dumb.” you let them plague your mind with doubt and uncertainty and you refuse to speak anymore.

but perhaps you never though to consider,

that maybe they were wrong. that just because they say your words won’t float doesn’t mean it won’t float and rise up to make a difference. and you’re going to be okay because you’re going to stand up and pull those weeds of doubt from the crevices if your mind. and when you look across that battlefield and you see them pelting hateful words and seeds of doubt at your feet, let it be a reminder that you are only human. that you are alive, that you are full of ideas, of love, of hope. that you refuse to succumb to the darkness of doubt, that you are worth listening to, and that you are no less than 

a capital “I.”

“Now listen here” she said to him

Whose mind is naught but poetic whim

“I see what you ain't ought to see,

“I live a life that's not for me”

She looked at him, his restless hands

Gestured ‘round the endless lands

“It seems as though our life’s a book,

Whose protagonists aren't off the hook”

(and still she spoke)

“Our roof’s caved in, our table’s broke”

“What could it be”

He said to she,

And stared off with empty eyes

possibly at the greying skies

“Is there any chance

That the fields know how to dance?”

Is it when the raindrops fall

that we finally look at it all,

 and as the storm comes rolling in

 not simple, proper

 but air so thin

 as the sky starts to dim

we see that life is so, so grim.”

and

so slowly,

he looked at her,

his eyes dull but his mind a whir.

“I need to know that you're still there,

behind that face, that shaggy hair.

“I need to know”

she said, and so

he took her hand

ignoring chance of reprimand

“it’ll be okay,

be it tomorrow or yesterday.

you'll be here if I fall”

She scoffed, he had the gall

he continued on with

no stop

“I know that you're about to drop

I know you aren't happy here,

I know, you know

I see your fear.”

“you can't know how I’m feeling

I can barely tell how you're dealing,

You tell me nothing and still demand

I understand the special brand

which is your mind

and sometimes you're almost kind…”

she trailed off here

(the) air thick with fear

and, so slowly, he dropped her hand

and slipped back off to cuckoo land

Dance- Emma Nord

Spinning and twirling is what people like to call it

But dancing is much more and can be such a hit

With many options to choose from such as jazz, ballet, and hip hop

There are also many types of music including blues, rock, and pop

It can be hard at times and make you want to quit

But you have to get back in the game and show some grit

The technique has leaps and turns that you just can’t stop

Even though you may fall and have a big flop

Costumes are always the best part knowing they will fit

With the sparkles and glitter everywhere you sit

When the day finally comes to show what you’ve got

A nervous feeling comes into your stomach so quietly that you can hear a pin drop

The makeup and hair complete the outfit

And if we don’t win in the end, all that matters is that we showed our best spirit

So,

You’re eleven years old and you’re at baseball camp

Because that’s the summer your parents decide they can’t stand to pretend to stand

One another anymore

So you’re in the outfield with your brothers’ old glove

Just watching it all

And everything is miles and miles away.

And then it’s August and you’ve come home

And the world has shifted in imperceptibly remarkable ways.

We bike downtown to the beaten down book store beside the 7/11

And you’re flipping through a old Batman comic

As you tell me you don’t think you like baseball.  

Middle school with its flitting fancies and flights of ill humor

Sends you shooting up out of all your old clothes and inclinations.

I watch you give your heart to a pretty girl

As my veins are chock full of ice.

July sees me kissing a girl in the dark of a theater sticky with popcorn butter,

And it’s crude and I’m clumsy and I walk out feeling emptied and squeezed so dry

I don’t think I could shed even a tear.

And then

You’re flying and it’s so

So wonderful

If even for just a moment

As the wheels of your red bicycle

Skirt the laws of gravity and leave the earth in a blaze,

Kicking clouds of dust up in your wake.

You wonder that the sky has always been this close,

And you go one mile, and then three, and then seven

Until all becomes a speck on your horizon.

When you reach where you are going,

Will you ever turn your head back and look for me?

I remember the afternoon they found you

The sky was a patchwork of red and the lakes were on fire,

And the world, in all its eccentricities, popped into life so bright it hurt to look.

I was cold, so I put on a sweater and inched closer to the space heater.

The mourning and all the black

Entered our lives with the April rains

Extinguishing all evidence that there was once a person called you.

It rained for a long,

Long time.

And in the wet world that emerged

The vision of you on that red bicycle

Pranced into my waking dreams

And entangled my restless nights.

It’s hard to come out of a movie theatre to dark

when you entered for the two o’clock matinee,

not unaware but unbelieving

that the sun would set without you.

While you were too busy watching

artificial sunsets on screen,

it, in defiance of your ignorance,

fell down to dusk.

i am sick and tired

of california.

year after year, the same old brittle story

passed down from generation to generation

to the point of breaking.

i went to california like they told me so

i could adorn myself with fame.

four months in and the only thing adorning me:

a dress thinner than spiderwebs,

creeping further up my pillar-like legs

each and every day.

the web tangled me; the spiders

came at me, ready to bite.

i lost courage,

threw the dress over my head and ran.

now i have nothing left but an 80’s tiara,

jeweled. my niece told me she saw the same gems

in the dollar store.

perhaps she is lying, out of envy.

she has told me before, in her little, birdlike voice,

i want to be a princess, too.

The day I came

You had to leave

The day we switched

Will always be remembered

Marked the day as the birth

but will remember the death

You gave away for a new beginning

I do not know you

But await for our greeting

I will always carry you in my heart

Here by my side you will stay

Walking me through the path of day

The longer we are away

The closer we will be

Our bond everlasting

Our hearts forever together

You embrace me in your love

And for that I thank you with all my heart

I walked down the sidewalk

Covered with chalk.

And crossing my track

Was a beetle of black.

His suit was shiny.

His size was tiny.

He had an armored shell,

But he slipped and fell.

Yet he wasn’t hurt,

Because of that shirt.

Then he went on its way.

He had nothing to say.

But where was he going

While he was towing

His armored shell of black?

I gaze at the clouds,
Because my father once did too.

A wondrous light peeks through the gray wisps.
Splish after splatter, drops of rain falling
And I’m afraid
That it won’t be like before.

The aroma of the damp grass fills my nose
And fills my head of old memories,
Both bad and good.

But it only makes me want to be in that wispy cloud
Next to you.