|Artwork by Lila S., Grade 8|
The Orange Wood
A house stands in the orange wood.
There lives a man, heart full of good.
He is so kind, he is so fair
He lets nature roam anywhere.
His house holds an open door
The wildlife crawls upon the floor.
And when the sky turns black as lead
They rest around his sleeping head.
by Evelyn W., Grade 7
|Artwork by Emily K., Grade 7|
Face of a Faker
His name conjures bravery;
one that swells to tell a tale
but shrivels to fear
in milliseconds without fail.
Voice glazed with inky, manipulative lies
Soft-spoken, deep as oceans
yet carrying wicked falsehoods,
like an actor's own notions
Words, seducingly so, are transparent
like a hive's sweetest honeycomb
with a drop of the deadliest poison,
man has ever come to know.
Every step, guilt curls in my stomach
coming through in high tides,
waves rushing upon me
with no one I'm able to confide.
Strings pull and twist to loose ends,
leaving me alone to fend,
but friends can help to mend
the wounds left by the guilt I tend
Wound which could've been stopped
if I had stopped amends
to the complicated man who once was a friend
making a facade of make-believe pretend.
by Emily K., Grade 9
|Artwork by Arina S., Grade 9|