T. S. Elliot once wrote, "April is the cruelest month," and this April, with it's wild dips back into winter, may seem like one of those months. Then again, it has been a time for writers -- like the daffodils and crabapple trees -- to blossom. National Poetry Month draws students around the country to more poetry, and we have an ample supply from our own Holicong writers here for you today. So to poets, the month is also a kind one. We hope it has been kind to you.
Where the Tulip Grows
Where
the tulip grows,
The
lush green ground that whispers wispy affirmations.
A
tickle on the petals as they shall bend--
Shall
whisper into the tiny ears of the tulip,
A
mellifluous sing-song song as the hummingbird hums by.
Where
the tulip lives,
Under
a bosom,
A
beating heart drumming on and on.
A
stem being thrown about to and fro.
Roots
slowly churning upwards from the ground,
Sheltered
comfort slightly pried away.
Tis’
but the wind my friend.
I’m
deathly, deathly sure.
Where
the tulip perceives,
Eyes
watching so fondly.
But,
roots are still tugging,
And
now the stem is being lashed around
In
a tight grasp.
My
friend,
'Tisn’t
the wind.
I'm
affrightedly sure.
Where
the tulip grows,
In
this bleakly battered and hellish place.
Trampled
into hiraeth for the untainted meadow of moon.
Trapped
in an illicit daydream.
Where
the tulip dries,
Crumble
to crumble.
Indeed.
Society
kills.
by Jaime P., Grade 8
Old Sir Gone No More
And
the fireworks caterwauled as airplanes flew over a sea veiled by the infinite
night
Stood
barefoot in the sand
Heavy
heart, flamboyant dance
Father
clutching shoulder in ill-fated doom; stale breath, cold stance
You
are going to be so tall, in all emotional vacancy
Where
did he helm when you needed it
Where
was your heart, never wrote, when Eeileen found beauty in the caterpillar
If
only he recognized his vulnerability
By
the door he spoke to me with intoxicated jest
You
are going to be so tall, atrocity exhibition
Lost
without a trace of a way to get out of this misery
As
long as ropes unravel, the fondest farewell will travel
But
will prevail at water's edge
Milking
stones
Nothing
left to hold on to but his own pride
New
found solace
As
I run out of El Segundo, out of the Great Laugh of Mankind
Out
of veneered palm trees
Wending
westward wept the eye of a needle, spewing idyllic treacheries
I
tried my best, I tried in vein
But
lo and behold, Eeileen's in a drunken runt, that sunken shunt
Empathy
departed, devoid of her ardery, our quasi-cavalry
I
tried my best, I tried in vain
But
my knees caved in
Atrophy
gliding the sun's whisper
Beaming
down rays of hope, sundry
Figure
forms above the grains, tips of tool kissing the sand
Trudging
a negating lullaby, where the mountains once penetrated the ground
Pondering
grouse drums, edicting the flies
Asunder
came flocks of edifice
Perforating
the crevices of the Earth
A
great laugh cradles the sky
Above
the conjugated buzzing, atop the roof where the burgeoning, burdening antenna
sits
Scraping
sky, some steel shaft
Seven
suns sonder, Sisyphus settled
The
hummingbird pantomimes
And
I miss the precious heart of the Wild Cosmia; oh no, now I'm grieving
Left
wondering how many times will I die up here
On
the mountain's coil
My
boulder, all exeunt!
by Jack D., Grade 8
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| Artwork by Charlie W., Grade 7 |
Permanent No Man's Land
What
is it to be the permanent no man’s land?
To
stand, forever at the edge of all things, and watch?
To
see the world drift by, lives lived and lives died,
And
to never endure the painful wonder of existence?
To
gaze at the endlessness without deadline,
To
be the forever and the never,
All
at once alive and dying and yet so perfectly not
What
is it, even, to be called?
A
geographical phenomenon, or a scientific anomaly?
Is
there explanation at all, or merely something beyond mortal comprehension,
That
binds the world to have an edge
Gives
the sky and earth a place to meet
Allowed
to end, truly, but never stop
A
loop, a cycle
Endlessly
Endless
End
by Mackenzie J., Grade 7
"No Monsters/No Mercy" by Makenzie J., Grade 7
Second
I feel as if I’m always in second, never enough, never perfect. I try my hardest to be at the top. I’m nice, but not the favorite. I’m smart, but I’m not intelligent.
I
want more.
I
want to be first for once, I want to be recognized. I want to be truly noticed
for me.
What
did you say? I can’t do that?
I’ll
just try harder. I’ll try to be funny, be smart, work harder, be popular.
I’m
sorry. I really tried to be better. I didn’t want to make it worse.
I’m
an outcast. I was wrong. I’m now less than anything. I’m spiraling down. I
can’t keep up. I shouldn’t have tried.
I’m still not enough. I will never be enough.
Greed
overtakes me. I want more. It will never be enough.
I
will never be enough.
by Lily C., Grade 7
Artwork by Charlie W., Grade 7
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