Monday, April 30, 2018

April Showers

Scant warmth has come to us in Pennsylvania as April ends, so we hope that curling up with some good reading will help stave off the endless winter in the air.  And remember, as the temperature does rise in May, going outside with a notebook forges an excellent path to some inspired writing.  This month's post features four poems written by Sevenatenine editors. 


The world 
Was completely silent 
Since the day that I was born. 
I always wondered 
What it felt like 
To have words spill 
Forward from my lips as if popcorn, 
Buttery and tangible, 
Reaching forward and telling everyone, 
Informing, educating, humoring, 
To know that was the cause 
Of that bright, endless smile 
That would appear on someone's face. 

Words have always 
Been my sanctuary 
Since I realized 
I could not utter a single word 
Floated around on clouds 
Long enough for me to touch them, 
To feel and grasp them, 
But also evaporating and falling 
In droplets of tears, not rain 
Trickling down my cheeks. 

I could never hear music 
Since the day that I was born. 
Never to hear those precious notes, 
Dancing, whispering, calling my name 
As it twirled in circles, 
Never to tell an octave or rest,  
The low, steady thrum of the bass 
High, whistling notes of a flute, 
Dancing, tiptoeing oboe, 
Or placid, rhythmic dums 
Keeping everything together 

But in music, 
There is always a wrong note played somewhere, 
Somewhere in the music, 
Something most people can't hear, 
And that wrong note 
Is me.

by Sarah Z., Grade 9

Artwork by Carolena B., Grade 9


I see a light flicker,
and flutter nearby,
Its golden hues cascading across the sky.

A gentle hum, a vibration illuminating like that of a star.

I step- quickly
wanting to, so badly, catch the light 
to feel its power
shake my hands and warm my fingers
I jump- ready
hands open, then clasped like praying...

I have the light!
I feel the light,
I feel the power,
I see my hands shake

And then my finger burns
because the warmth is now fire.
It pierces 
and I cry out,
releasing my hands 
sucking my finger,
watching the bumblebee fall at my feet.

It wasn't light after all. 

by Sofia P., Grade 9 

Artwork by Lauren G., Grade 9

Long Way 

It's a long way 
To the shallow grave 
That will return her grandfather to the Earth 

It's a long way, so 
You offer her your shoes—she's getting blisters 
She decides to walk barefoot instead.  
You do, too 

It's a long way 
Back to a feeling of normality 
It's been years since you have spoken 
Words other than a garbled "happy birthday" 
Over the phone 

You stand at the back,  
Watch tears roll down her face 
As she says the last goodbyes 
To a person she loves 

That night,  
Your only goal is to make her smile 
Guarantee that nothing you ever do  
Will cause these tears 

You do make her cry,  
But they are tears of laughter, joy, 
As jokes are shared,  
And the invisible gap between you begins to close 

It's a long way to friendship 
But in a place where so many journeys ended,  
Your journey with her 

by Trinity F., Grade 9

Artwork by Kylie A., Grade 9


Nobody said 
To wait and see, 
To stop and look and think, 
To slide your bookmark 
Where stories are 
Made of merely ink. 
To ponder what 
And where and when 
The story tries to show, 
To discover a 
Different meaning that 
Before, you didn’t know. 
Nobody said 
To step a step, 
To live another’s quest, 
To think inside 
Another’s head, 
To be the story’s guest. 

To hide inside 
A nook or cranny, 
To cover up your head 
With a blanket 
And a flashlight, 
Cuddled up in bed. 

Nobody said 
To wait and see, 
To stop and look and think, 
To slide your bookmark 
Where stories are 
Made of merely ink. 

by Rebeca S., Grade 9