U-32 Middle School

The invisible line watches all
Holding me with hard eyes until it confirms I am on the correct side
I keep walking until I am behind it
Only then does it drop its gaze
The line, the white line with no emotion for a weary black woman returning from a hard day

It keeps track of its victims Read more »

All I want
is to be as happy as the smiling people I see in photos.
With the vibrant green hills behind them,
illuminating brilliant smiles.
Friends gasping for air from laughter,
grasping onto their comrades shoulders.
There’s not a care in the world.

There’s no thinking about the future,
or leaving the company.
There’s nothing to do but smile at the world,
just daring it to stifle the sunshine.
Protected by the frame of the camera’s lens,
these smiles are safe.

Behind the camera the story changes sharply.
The shadows lay their cold hands on your shoulders
and a shiver passes painfully down your spine.
When the moment begins to thaw,
things start to change.
The smiles linger too long and become hollow.
The friends walk away.
With only their Polaroids as proof of the sunlight,
proof of being that happy.
Because away from the lens
memories get awfully foggy.

In life, we have lots of enemies. One could be an evil person we know about who poses no threat. It could also be a assassin we don't even know who will kill you and will get away with it. There is one enemy that we have a hard time to consider as our enemy. It has been our enemy since birth, and will be until we are 4 yards underground in a coffin. It is ourself. We have a brain, and that brain is the mastermind behind our own personal alkida. First, it makes us have impulses to do crazy things, it makes us create mass destruction. The only reasons it makes us sweat to cool our bodies down, or to shiver so we generate more heat, is for it wants to make your death happen when you are weak, broken down and defeated. Now, when it's first try by making you freeze or overheat, it will give you a cold or fever. After that, it tries to give you and infection, tumor or some sort of dangerous bad thing. That is stage three, and while that is playing out it has stage 4 going out. Stage 4 started when you were around 10 and started to understand the sorrows of the world. Stage 4 is when your brain finds out 2 things. It is harder to kill you then it first thought, and that the world is terrible. So it starts to strap on it's vest with some dynamite and starts to die. It will use the bad things in life as the victim blammed for the murder. It begins to make you go insane. Sadly, some people suffer much faster and die at birth. That is the brain that had it's vest on and it's finger on the button when he came out.

So, we gather round the computer screen to read the prompts before writing away. We have solutions currently on the table, so I thought 'why not?' One solution. Well, I'd have to say I'd solve a question no one can answer or could be able to answer. I'd find out what is the meaning of life. You'll be told that each life is sacred, this and that, and all of that junk. I want to know the reason we are all here. Whether we all have meaning, or if we are just a stepping stone for a new species on earth to capture us, torture us and condem us to extinction. Whether I will become the new Czar, or whether I will become a slave of the bears. The only problem is that if we find out that our fate is ending, with no possibility of error, then we would be watching the clock waiting for our death. Each second getting closer to your death. The only way out is if you get shot by a mad mass murderer, or if you get a disease that is quicker than the end of human life. That is the problem with questions. Once you find the answer, you could be changed in a way that kills you, slowly, from the inside out.

There they sit, all alone in their small house in the woods. No one visiting, no one knows they're there. Not since the crash. They were rescused by the leader, and now they had to live there until the leader let them know when to work on their plan. They owed their life to the leader, and he had their kids. They had only one choice. One life for another. What would you do?

She sat down next to some strangers, and began reading a magazine. At least she was pretending to read. The man next to her was talking on his cellphone with an accent.

"Ello chap. Yes? Of course I did, what kind of a fool am I? I have it planted, yep."

Planted? That was suspicious. She knew she needed evidence before she started saying that there was a terrorist on board.

"Several hours until it goes off. Yes, and the other one is planted as well. The embassy is going to go up into flames. Yes, there is one in the train as well, that will go off sooner. Several minutes from now, so while they are busy dealing with us, the embassy and all people in it will inevitably die as well. Yes, you, me and the girl next to me I am about to obtain knows." He hung up, and stabbed her with a small spike concealed in his ring. She blacked out, and woke up seconds before the train exploded, and several hours before the embassy did as well.

Yamato clutched his bow with all his might, his mind focused on the battle. He was under the command of General Haruka, and they were about to attack the enemy. Thousands of men were on each side, getting ready to charge. Both waiting for the enemy to make a move. Yamato's heavy gear were beginning to weigh him down, his bow aimed towards the ground. Then, Yamato heard a yell in the distance. The samurai in front of him charged at the enemy. The enemy imitated them, and the samurai clashed. Yamato and all the other archers lifted their bows up, and loaded it with a arrow. Yamato light the arrow to make enemy morale lower than it was previously. Yamato aimed, and fired. The arrows soared high into the sky. Yamato gazed at the sky, always amazed at the sight of the millions of small fires in the sky. Sadly, the wonder was not to last long. The wizz of arrows was heard, and they tried to cover themselves with their helmets. Men around them fell. Yamato saw no more arrows and reloaded and aimed. Then, fired. The enemy was less worried about casualties apparently, and arrows came down and made a large majority of them fall. One hit Yamato in the stomach, and he fell to the ground. He blacked out for a while. When he opened his eyes he moaned and looked up. All around him were dead soldiers, and the enemy samurai were marching towards him. Yamato removed his katana from his sheath. He wasn't very skilled with it, but he knew it was his best bet. He got ready to swing, but all of a sudden an arrow hit him in the back. He screamed in pain, and the samurai came and finished him off.

Orange. One of the best six-letter words in the world. It has its ups and downs. It is just like life. It has the good and the bad. Orange, can be found in the pain and death of fire, which consumes all. It can also be found in the delicate beauty of an evening sunset in June. Orange. The perfect mix of bright and dark, dull and exciting, abstract and real. Orange, a wonderful fruit. Orange, a color that can lead people to their highest zenith, or their lowest low. It can make you reach your apex, or fall to your grave. It is the pinnacle of your life, and the end of the world. Orange is everything, and it is a part of us all. . .

"Goodbye," she said to her boyfriend. Victor was going to the army. They were in NYC, and the days were cloudy. It rained not that long ago, and it was November. A gray, snowy slush was on the ground. Sandy began to cry.

"What is it?" Victor questioned.

"Be careful. I don't want you to die out there," Sandy muttered, tears covering her mouth, her voice next to nothing. She ran off into the street, unable to see Victor in the army uniform any longer. Victor tried to catch up to her, give her on last kiss before he left. She ran across the street, and he followed. He tried to at least.

**********************

The bus driver slammed down on the breaks, but the bus didn't stop, but it did start to slow down, lots of slush on the ground. He looked up. He saw a man between the bus and the crossroads. He didn't know this, but the girl on the side of the road would never forgive herself for the goodbye she gave him. Sadly, goodbye isn't the easiest thing to say, but we wish we have.

I went to the store to get some pears.

On the day that was fair, I needed some pairs.

On the day that was fair, before I got pears, I cut my hair.

On the day that was fair, the day I cut my hair, the day I tried to get pairs, not a penguin was there.

On the day that was fair, the day I cut my hair, the day not one penguin was there, the day I tried to get pairs, is the day I found a evil dragon's lair.

When I found a dragon's lair, after I cut my hair, when no penguin was there, even though the day was fair, I still wanted my pears, for I need them since I was triple dog dared.

Lets see. (Sigh) When I found a dragon's lair, after I cut my hair, with no penguins there, even though the day was fair, and I still wanted my pears, for I was triple dog dared, before I was elected mayor, in the city of Devair(d-v-air), which when I say most people say where, but no one there really cares, for-WAIT!

I didn't find a dragon's lair, after I cut my hair, with no penguins there, even though the day was fair, and I still wanted my pears, for I was triple dog daredm before I was elected mayor, in the city of Devair, which when I say most people say where, and there no one there really cares, but none of that is really real, it's part of how I feel, and it is about my good old poem, the poem which I just finished in my home!

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Maine Read more »

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     "Fine, but not for revenge. . .for my daughter."

     "Very good. Keep this phone with you at all times for instructions. For now, go to your old navy base, and bring a pistol with ammo."

     The line went dead. John was about to begin his own personal torture. He was a patriotic man, even when he was discharged. His new objective was a prisoner of himself.  Read more »

     He sauntered into the room silently. The normally clean, stuffy room was in pieces. The glass window was in pieces on the ground, dark red blood on the ground. The bedspread was twisted, the green Italian lamp was on the ground, shattered. Then, a ringing began to sound. An annoying tune. He noticed a cell phone on the bed. He picked it up and answered it. A deep, heavy voice answered. Read more »

The clouds come like an army of fierce gray stallions. With the clouds comes the wind, whipping through the tall grass; a nimble, invisible snake. All is calm. The wind is the only noise. The air is warm as the first drops of rain fall quietly out on the endless fields. The rain feels refreshing as I sit under the big cottonwood tree. It’s the first summer storm, I could feel it brewing, and now it’s here. The raindrops are falling as though the sky is taking a sigh of relief. Read more »

There she sits
Cigarette in hand,
Her eyes elsewhere…

He’s gone,
Now she’s got only shadows to comfort her
He’s not coming by

The glass is half empty,
The letter’s still beside her on the bench
She thinks of where he must be

Sailing, somewhere far from here
With only a scribbled goodbye
The nights will be long, the days will be void

Four is between 5 and 3,
a favorite number for you or me.

It comes around once every 10,
you might be taking French and if so...chien.

I'm writing this poem to submit,
and hope that everyone reading it.

Will enjoy my rhyming words,
it's a good thing I don't have to write in thirds.

My poem may not make sense to you,
even if you're favorite color is blue.

I just ask you one simple thing,
to read this and then do something.

I don't care what or who or how,
but don't just stand there take a vow.

A vow to exercise everday,
even if it's just to play. Read more »

I will sing in the pouring rain every time, and you will become increasingly convinced that I am depressed.
I’m not depressed, I will convince you (for the thousandth time), and you will continue to doubt me.
And when I wish for snow as I saturate myself, you will wonder about my sanity. But I’m not crazy, I’m really not.
I can explain, if you could hear me.
I’m lost, you see. Most utterly. You will tell me where we are currently soaking. I know where I am, silly. And I do suppose you have a watch? Read more »

Holiday colors of green and red
Have come out around us once again

The streets are white and brown and gray
After the snowfall of yesterday

Radios blare with holiday cheer
But it’s them we’ll soon hate to hear

Pine trees crowd living rooms
As the 25th looms

The air is cold, the sky is clear
We wait for Santa and his reindeer

Ghosts

By Kay Bushman
U-32 Middle School, Grade 8

Do I believe in ghosts? I must believe in ghosts. I have to believe that every chill I feel, every disembodied word I think I hear, every misheard household noise, every time the door creaks open of its own accord, every misplaced item, every penny I find on my bedroom floor, every echo, every footstep, every trick of the light, is you. Read more »

Toward Los Angeles

By Kay Bushman
U-32 Middle School, Grade 8

We walked toward the city, our bags hanging off our backs. We had no job, no pay. No pay meant no future. But the city? That meant promise.
The two of us were a statistic, just another of the 7 million Joe’s without a paycheck, but L.A. was going to change that. We’d sleep in the streets and shine people’s shoes for pay if we had to. Read more »

Jane sat on the unfamiliar window seat, her knees to her chest. Through the window she watched the rain. Sweet summer rain, pummeling an alien garden.
Jane longed to be back home, back with Mother and Jonathan and little Aggie. She wanted Father to come home from the war and take her away from Grandfather’s house. She could see him now, walking between the grand flower beds in his army uniform, his helmet crooked on his head, the sun shining above. He would lift her up and kiss her on the cheek and say, “Let’s go home now, Jane,” in his chocolaty voice. Away they would go; leaving her grandfather’s stuffy, quaint estate behind.
A clap of thunder startled Jane out of her reverie. She looked sadly up at the dark clouds above, resting her chin on her knees. A bolt of lightning illuminated the clouds above her. Slowly she slipped into unconsciousness.

The apple trees waited in neat rows for us to come and strip them bare. We got our bags and started off amongst the trees, picking the low apples while our parents grabbed the ripe ones we couldn’t reach. Logan found a big juicy red apple, and, being seven, he couldn’t resist, so he took a huge bite. After that every other first grader had an apple in their hand to munch on while they put a few in their bag. I ended up in a tree, my head between its leaves, my feet just off the ground, one hand tightly gripping a thick branch, the other groping for apples. By the time we got back on the bus, we were all a mess of apple juice and sticky hands. None of us ate much lunch that day; our bellies were to full of apple. Read more »

By Sarah Wells
U-32 Middle School, Grade 8

We keep the curtains closed tight, refusing to believe what's happening just through the window.
Move the curtains a bit and the fires start to glow.
Bullets are being fired and cities burn.
Children are sleeping in the streets
stealing to stay alive.
Strobe lights flash, the front line moves forward
and the world starts to burn.
Maybe it's not quite time to move the curtains,
we're not quite ready
to sit and watch the world burn.

By Kay Bushman
U-32 Middle School, Grade 7

Nobody really knew what would be found on the other side of the door to the old Perkins place.
It was more of a shack than a house really, with miscellaneous metal objects littering the yard, and a few skeletons of cars sitting about.
The man who had owned the place had had a mean rottweiler that he tied up in the yard. Some days he would sit outside by the dog, tending a pile of burning garbage. Most days smoke just came from his chimney, proof that he wasn’t dead yet. Read more »

By Sarah Wells
U-32 Middle School, Grade 8

Have you ever loved something so much but never gotten any love in return? You think, "I'll wait for you forever." When you said it you had no idea how long forever could really be and, before you know it, you're alone with just your bitter memories....

Well that's what is happening with my game consoles. For some reason, they refuse to love me, and they've gotten the games to hate me as well. All will be going well, the first boss defeated; sure it's late, but whatever. I have a responsibility to the game; I need to fight evil and win! Maybe it's because I started to doze off... whatever the reason, the controller and I stop acting as one. Before I know it, I'm stuck on one level for weeks, cursing at the screen, pleading with it. "Please, I didn't mean to look at that Wii in the store, honest!" You threaten to replace it, knowing the whole time you never will. Just like that, your heart is broken by a machine. You sit there glowering, thinking to yourself, "I'll never play you again, never." In time, however, the console will forgive you, you'll buy a new game and all will be well again 'til BAM! There you are again, glowering.

I can hardly go a day with out seeing you.
Some call the amount of time we spend together, an obsession.
What is so wrong about being obsessed with what you're in love with?
Yes, I admit, I love you.
I waited many lonely years to finally know you're mine.
We've had our problems,
but we always come through again.
I can't imagine a life with out you now.
Yes, some may call it an obsession,
but I call it love.

-Macbook

By Sarah Wells
U-32 Middle School, Grade 8

You're the one who caught all my tears.
You let me talk for hours without interrupting me.
You let me hold you until I drifted into sleep.
Years have come and gone, and we've grown farther apart.
I no longer search for your soft embrace to end my fears.
If ever I lose my way,
if ever I need a friend,
I know you'll be waiting
for me to hold you once again. Read more »

By Kay Bushman
U-32 Middle School, Grade 7

“What?!” he asked, confused.
I was out of breath, my head thrown back, shaking with silent laughter. He stared at me as tears started rolling down my cheeks. I doubled up, my hand wrapped around my side, trying to stop shaking.
By the time my breathing returned to normal, I had no idea what I had been laughing about in the first place, which triggered more uncontrollable giggles.
“Pft,” he scoffed, and stormed away, not looking back as I fell out of my chair.