.
By SkyeJasmin
By Anaya R.
By RubiStarr
By JShaw
I work up this morning,
Out of the night
I put in the microwave
A bowl of heat and light
And then if I have
A 17-year-old wife,
I would’ve showed her
The taboo of the old life
And then I walked
Toward a bus,
And the bus driver cried out loud
"this belongs to us!”
Tribute to
THE OUTSIDERS
by: Heather Ramirez (C) 2014
Poem 1: You can see the sunset on the eastside too
From
The
young
To
the old
From
the
rich
to
the poor
to
the ones on heavens door
from
the gallant and
brave
to
the ones
you
have
to
save
The
sunlight touches all.
No
matter
Black
or brown
Or
white
In
the end of the day, before it goes away
It
touches all.
Poem 2: Sodapop
Torn
into two,
That’s
what he felt alright,
Watching
us hollerin’ watching us fight.
His
usual bright eyes, streaming with tears,
As
he voiced his fears.
My
brother, torn in two.
I’m
sorry I did to you.
No
one should be burdened like you were.
But
you always seemed so sure
Of
yourself
Of
us
Our
family
But
never again.
Darry
and I will never fight again
And
that’s a promise alright.
Poem 3: Darry
Honestly
I never really was close to Darry
Not
as close as Sodapop
Or
my old man himself.
Honestly
I never really thought he cared
For
me.
Not
as much as for Sodapop.
But
He
gave me
Everything.
His
future
His
goals
His
education
His
life
Just
so my future wouldn’t have to involve
A
small eastside house with poor income.
What
a brother.
Poem 4: Gold
It
smiles, never scorns.
It
is pure and new, no need for rue.
He
is gold.
But
Over
time
A
life time
When
he is old…..
Nothing gold can stay
Poem
5: not a life I chose
Honestly,
I
never liked fights.
I’ve
never liked drinking or partying nights.
I’ve never liked disrespecting girls or stealing
I’ve
always liked
Sunsets
Reading
And
writing.
Johnny
does too
But
I
Can’t
change where I was born
This’ll
have to do.
The essence of the human soul is not made of a complex arrangement of desires that are created by life's circumstances or past events.
But simply a set longing that is instilled in the heart of every man, woman, and child.
The longing to be wanted, the desire to be loved, the need to be understood and the hunger to be treated as equal.
But starved of these basic desires man is forced to live.
But if the world recognized these needs, the world would be a better place. --------S. George, 8th grade
Parallel poems
Annoyed
Fireplace
by K. Lopez
Once upon a midnight dreary
While I’m already getting weary
And I’m continuously giving heat to
his body
Because the weather is being naughty
I suddenly hear a knock on the door
I heard some tiptoed on the floor
That makes me want to roar
I almost don’t want to do my chore
As my master talk to the raven
This bird is just here for a haven
It’s pretty annoying as the raven
quoth “Nevermore”
I think this bird will talk for
forevermore
Makes me want to burn his black
feather
Or pull them all together
When is this bird going to leave?
Because I’m really, really peeved!
The Scorn of the Raven
By C. J. Ramos
Once upon a time of sorrow, while I was slept and sleeping ready for the
morrow,
I felt a tapping upon my lattice, a loud rapping that I’ve adhor.
The man cometh to open my shutters, and at with came a flutter
for a bird, nay raven perched above the chamber door,
"Tis a Raven perched above the chamber door-"
"only
this and nothing more."
I attempt to return to slumber, but the man
continues to cumber
All the peace
of the main hall and the peace of us all.
I wonder how
ruckus abounds, and my wonder astounds,
how a lowly
raven causes such disturbance upon the door
for a lowly
raven should not cause such upon a chamber door
especially if
all it speaks is "nevermore."
As the night
moves on past, the arguing outlast
as the man
continues to face insanity, and his own calamity.
I don't choose
to blame my owner; he has kept me well and out of the state of a moaner.
I blame that
Raven! His persistent howl has caused my owners melancholy above that door
I so hate the
Raven and his "nevermore"
It's constant
speaking above the chamber door.
My friendly
owner seems demented, and his revival greatly prevented
by the bird of
scorn upon that poor door.
I greatly feel
hate against that bird which I adhor
And sadness
erupts towards the man crashed under the door.
I wish I never
opened to allow that bird to fly above the door.
The Bust of Pallas
By
V. Yobue
Once upon a midnight dreary,
I asked myself a fitting query,
As to why my master has clearly lost his mind.
My purchaser Mr. Poe
Paced in his chamber to and fro, and
He continued to bestow his attention on this
raven
This mysterious meddling raven-
This bothersome ebony bird who
Made this a serious and unsettling situation.
The raven repeated, "Nevermore",
Pestering my master more and more
It almost could have been keeping score, the
way it stressed him out.
Finally, Mr. Poe erupted!
His expression became disgusted;
He bluntly interrupted the raven as it spoke.
My master acted callous;
His words were filled with malice-
Even I, the bust of Pallas, feared to make a
sound.
Parallel Poem: Fireplace!
by J. Jolley
Once
upon a cold night fall, with something’s small and tall.
Firey
fire blazing away,
Felt
like everything was still as always.
While
I sit each and every day,
Waiting
for my master to light me away.
Oh
so quiet and oh so still,
Waiting
for something as to maybe kill.
Waiting
for something to start clappin’,
Something
started snappin’.
Once
the wood started crackin’,
Weird
things must have happened.
Up
at the window as I look,
Something
took a stick and watched.
Once
the wood fell it catched,
Only
to put it which it took back.
Off
it went,
Taking
a mental which was bent.
Once
the fire died down,
My
master’s face turned to a frown.
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