Edmunds Middle School
The milky way shivers,
droplets of silver pearls fall,
the sickly yellow light covers all.
Blackness clouds Saturn's mind.
Meteor is tumbling,
Moon's craters seem larger.
The man on the moon coughs, sickly.
The earth fumes black clouds of disease.
The solor system is sick,
abused and unursed by mother earth.
Her thoughts have been taken over.
And now look what we have done.
Watch this video of Rumor Has It by Adele. What story is she telling in this song? What do you learn from the lyricSubmitted by leor on Fri, 07/19/2013 - 9:20am
Adele likes guy and a different girl likes him. That girl is making up rumors.She doesn't mean the rumors but she does love him. That is why she wrote the song. She loves him but he likes both of them. To break the tie Adele wrote this song and now the guy likes Adele. In the song she says the other girl is bringing me down.
As summertime comes to play,
Fireflies flit in their own ballet,
And the sea seems to want to spray.
And the bright blue of the bluejay,
Rhymes with the blue of my tea tray.
As the autumn wind blows in,
I know that a slight chill will begin.
And the clothes blow harshly on the clothes pin.
The bright leaves float like twins,
together forever as kin.
As Winters chill sets in our bones,
The trees ice cages seem to moan.
And the snow seems to have blown,
to places quite unknown.
When Springs cheerful glow,
wintertime seems a long time ago,
and you start to mow,
the grass that has started to show,
There comes a time,
when a lot is a little,
and the things that we love,
turn hard and brittle.
The things that we cherish,
start to perish.
The teddy bears,
and yellow dolls.
The stark blue sky's,
start to darken,
with nightmare clouds,
that thrust shrouds of sorrow.
And the one thing that you hold on to,
the stickiness of overdone sweetness.
extracted from lips dripping with sarcasm.
Cowering in corners of the mind, Read more »
If you could creat a pen that was perfect for your writing, what would it look like?
What is your favorite tree? Write a poem about it.
I have secrets in my head,
A nest of promises and dread,
A spinning orb of words and thoughts,
Tell a single soul I’ll not,
A story’s whispered,
A tale is told,
Truth unravels, pure as gold.
A pinky promise,
An “I won’t tell,”
Yet, promises can break like shells,
But I won’t be the one to break,
A slipped word,
A clever mistake,
For secrets are not to be shared,
I’ll zip my lips, pretend I cared,
And tell anyone? I’ve never dared,
For broken shells are to be spared.
I look down
Down to the people on the ground
The ground that seems so far down
That they should come up with a word to describe how far down Read more »
He sits unmoving on the metal bleachers. Snow lays around him, fresh, cold, and seeming to shimmer in the early dawn. In ungloved hands he holds a football- battered, old, and covered in writing. He sighs, sending up a cloud of fog, and stares at the white, wide, open football field in front of him as he had a hundred times before.
In books and movies he’s seen, it says they can remember every second- how their foot slipped, how they fell, how they remember it as if it was slow motion. He can't, no matter how much he tries or wishes he could. All he remembers is running with sharp air in his lungs, marveling at how the snowflakes were seemingly suspended in the air, then he was on his back, immobile as the wet snow seeped through his jersey and heavy footsteps came closer. Even after that there were only snippets of memory in the few moments of consciousness he’d had. Tubes coming out of his arms and legs, doctors wearily telling him how lucky he is to have a chance of walking again, and his teammates presenting him a football with “Get Well Soon” and all their names scrawled onto the leather surface
Suddenly, he stands, wincing slightly even after all these years. He grits his teeth in an effort to block out the cold, the dull pain in his leg, and the fragments of memory. After a few hesitant moments, he hurls the Get Well Soon ball as far as possible, hoping it will find someone who can.
Please don’t leaf me.
All you say is we need to branch out,
we woodn’t be good for each other.
Yew with your need to be poplar,
Board without sprucing up everything,
Sometimes, you make me sycamore.
You saw this coming. You axed for it.
You say it’s my deciduous.
That i’m the root of the problem,
That all I am is shady,
That I should just leaf.
I wooden have expected this
What did you think I was fir, your amusement?
I will go out on a limb,
to try to please you, so
Please don’t pack your trunk,
Please don’t leaf me.
She glows with shadow, she’s shaded with light,
At times she smiles and the world seems to shine,
A taste of sugar, the smell of a clear sunny day,
The sound of a praise, of a smile, of the clichéd birds chirping
At times the coldness of her frown is freezing,
the smell of cold, snow, fear and darkness,
the sight of your only beacon of light rolling away,
the only answers are the questions that flutter around like trapped little birds,
and the bewilderment at how easily she can change
from your source of light to the one who kicks it away,
from the slight touch of guiding fingertips to the harsh shove that sends you flying,
Each moment of hers calculated,
eyes boring like daggers and finding weaknesses, using them to her advantage.
Because you know, and she knows,
even as her wrath creates crashing waves and foaming seas,
Her smile will bring simple, sun splashed waves that pull you in once again,
For better or worse.
Long ago I used to have a completely different life.
I had to work every day in the blazing heat, I did not get an education, and I used a bathroom outside of our house.
I was just a little girl, I was that little girl with a dying brother, I was that little girl that was afraid of the dark, I was that little girl whose daddy left her. Read more »
I would love,
a heart to beat,
I would push it to my chest to feel it’s drum.
I would love, Read more »
For me, inspiration comes with rain, all sealed up in the thin, shimmery skin of each drop, then spraying, exploding, out of the millions of delicate encasments. I love the smell right before a storm, lingering, waiting for the clouds to reach breaking point, a deluge hovering right around the corner. The unpredictability of it... Will there be thunder tolling out the seconds? Or will it be barely a drizzle, only a few drops here and there, just enough to be vaguely annoying. Or, sometimes, it comes down so hard, it literally looks like sheets of water are falling from the sky, each droplet bouncing off the already-soaking pavement and creating rivers in the streets. Rain makes me want to dance barefoot in the middle of the street, and not care if my clothes get wet, and just feel like a little kid again. To feel like everything is okay. Rain makes me want to write.
I love you,
I love you so much.
The thing is it’s blind love,
I love you, but I might not trust you fully. Read more »
The bell rang; everyone left the classroom but me. I started packing up my stuff when the teacher walked back in the room and dropped a box on the desk next to mine. I ignored it as the teacher walked out of the room. I stood up to walk out the room myself. When I looked up at the box, it wasn’t on the desk anymore. It was now on the chair I had just vacated. I stepped back and looked around the room; I was alone except for the box. I turned around to walk out when I heard a thump. I looked back and the box was on the floor. I ran out of the room, went to my locker, put my books away and got my backpack. Then I ambled out of the building like nothing had happened. As I walked down the stairs I heard a thud then another then another. When I got to the bottom of the staircase I looked up and saw the box ten steps behind me. I froze, staring at the box. Thump, thump, thump was the sound it made each time it dropped. When it got to my level I was no longer frozen, thinking what could be in it. It could be something really loving, but it could also be something that wants to eat me. It could be both, a really cute-looking thing that wanted to eat me. I pulled the tape off the box, opened it and saw a.......
Remember those terrible, troublesome, terrifying threes? I don't remember much but the one vacation I took with my mom that year for my birthday. I remember going on a trip through the swamp, but first I went to see this rare Albino Alligator in a tank. I was there with at least five other kids. We were all just standing there waiting for it to move. The boy on my left was slightly overweight. With his candy in one hand and the other in his mother's warm, soft, delicate hand, he stood there just sucking on his lollipop over and over and over again. The girl next to me was banging on the glass asserting that she wanted the gator to move while her mother was huffing. With the sucking, huffing, banging and yelling, I started to feel perturbed, then I got irate. I looked to my mom and said, “Mom I have to go to the bathroom. I be be back.” I was about to leave when the girl next to me banged so loud I thought the glass was going to break. I turned around to ask her to please stop being so loud and as soon as I turned around the alligator swam right to her. We all screamed. The boy dropped his candy and the girl was crying. I was so happy they had stopped talking but now it was even louder. I don't remember much of those terrible, troublesome, terrifying threes but I remember that moment.
My dream vacation would be traveling the world and having a signature dish from each individual place or country. I can smell it now, the wonderful aroma of whatever the food is walking from its kitchen birthplace. I can imagine it being placed directly in front of me, its neat and tidy presentation inches in front of my face, the steam radiating off of it signifying its freshness. I imagine it being very filling, and very delicious all at the same time. I imagine wiping my chops with the colorful napkin afterwards. I think some delicious Borsch would be top. Borsch is one of the best soups ever made. I imagine myself sitting in a cafe near the Red Square, watching the outside atmosphere. I cancel out all of the noise around me. I savor each spoonful as cars fly by and people crisscross every which way, going about their business calmly and swiftly. Maybe I would enjoy some Fish and Chips in London somewhere near the London Eye- a light rain starting that makes everything appear shiny. I savor each chip and watch as the London Eye slowly spins. That would be my ideal, dream vacation.
I grip the sides of the boat
As it bounces up and down with the waves
The salt water splashes against my face making my eyes sting
Blue water, that’s all I can see
Then the boat lurches to a stop
It’s time, I must be brave
I zip up my one-size-fits-all wetsuit
Pull the snorkel mask over my face
Take a deep breath and jump in
A wave splashes over my head and I find myself under water
I quickly swim above the water
No, I must be brave
I take a deep breath letting the waves pull me below Read more »
I lay down on the white sand just as the wind began to gently blow, pushing my dark curls out of my face. The hot sun beat down on my golden skin causing warmth wherever the sun touched. The sound of the sapphire waves crashing on the sand and then slowly crawling back to the sea melted away any stress I might have been feeling at that moment. When the wind blew again I inhaled deeply and smelled the the ripe tropical fruit on the nearby tree and the intense sea salt coming from the deep ocean in front of me. I forced myself to stay awake because of the purity of the moment. I heard someone calling my name in the distance. My eyes flashed with anger because of the disturbance. I knew my perfect moment was slipping away with every step my caller took. I took a deep breath trying to commit this feeling to memory. My heart began to ache with an agonizing pain, because I knew this moment was about to be lost forever. I groaned inwardly with the distressing loss. I slowly kissed goodbye my perfect moment on my perfect vacation.
The perfect place is Neverland.
A place where there is always snow and beaches with summer glows.
A place where nobody has to die, a place where kids can really learn to fly,
A place where you can just sit and stare.
And inhale the clear, smokeless air.
I think how marvelous it would be to look across a light blue sea
And to see so many flowers buzzing with bumble bees.
To see the animals swim and smile, and let you pet them for a while.
Because they’re not scared you’ll take their coat. They’re not scared you’ll cut their rope.
And you can walk through miles of trees and paint their magic leaves. Read more »
Seashells, sand, some smiling sun.
Splash! Swimming, sinking, sharp, short stun.
Striking, stinging, siberian shiver,
Slowly subsiding, screaming sliver.
Snorkeling, sharing spotted surprises.
Smelling soft, sweet
Starfruit, small, sizable sizes.
Sinking sea stars, sand sheathed shoes,
Silky Sundays, sneaking some snooze.
Sleeping sheltered, stories spun,
Seashells, sand, some smiling sun.
I reach out with my my relaxed, golden-tan arm and grip the sweaty, chilled, fancily-shaped glass. My hand gets a feeling of relief as it presses against the frigid surface, cooling it instantly. I lift it up so my lips can reach the vibrant blue straw. I close my eyes. The creamy taste and texture of a strawberry-mango smoothy bursts with flavor, extraordinarily soothing every taste bud. I feel the scratchy graze of the fancy, petite umbrella against my nose. I place the glass back down in its permanent position next to me without having to look. A warm breeze gently blows across my body smelling of the salty water and summer sunscreen. I feel the sun and its sauna-like rays beaming down in mellow warmth. I stretch out my legs on my fluffy white towel and feel each fiber packed with the comfort of a stuffed teddy bear. The towel and I are cradled in a luxurious beach chair with the back set at a lazy yet upright position. I open my eyes and take in the ambrosial view. I see the Carribean blue ocean water. Bright white sails are stretched open, placed along the horizon. The peaceful sight banishes all stress. I relax every muscle in my body letting it seep into the resort chair. I then reach out for my sweaty, chilled glass.
The blazing sun hitting my neck and my eyes adjusting to the intense light.
Reds, purples, oranges alike, stacked on top of each other to form layers.
The perfect example of erosion at its greatest.
Thunk, thunk, thunk, then nothing.
The rock that sailed and glided out of my hand fell down the intense canyon.
Too much for my eyes to handle, I step back.
Examining the truly great and grand canyon that left a mighty indent on America,
A single bead of sweat starts to form above my already-wide eyes.
In my head a single phrase I always wanted to say next to the gigantic gash,
As quick as a thought; Read more »
The Moving Box
Someone goes over and peeks into the box. There are squeaks coming from the box. I am thinking there is probably an animal in there. So a person opens the box to see if there is an animal in there. They see ten guinea pigs. They are soft and brown and black. They are squeaking, scratching and limping around the box because they don’t like being in the box. We find a cage for the guinea pigs and put them in there. We go and find the teacher to ask why she put the guinea pigs in the box. There are five babies and five grown-ups.
Dusk had fallen over Lake Sunapee. The darkness trickled down from the sky, now that the sun was no longer there to guard to it. Gold-rimmed clouds streaked around the falling sun. Water bugs pranced across the rippled surface, spreading circles wherever they landed. No one was heading inside yet though. Sparklers were brought out, shaken in palms, still sticky with vanilla ice cream. Lawn chairs were set out, facing the fading sky. People ambled across the still-warm-from-the-day grass and to their chosen seat.
A lighter was brought out by a child, and hovered over by an alert and protective adult. Immediately the sparkler boxes were bombarded with eager hands and doled out. The first one lit was a green one. The blue flame of the lighter connected with the plain brown tip, exploding in a shower of sparks. The sparkler hummed and buzzed as it was waved triumphantly around. A red one joined it, followed by a yellow.The children pranced about excitedly waving their prize. Sparks flew hazardously around, most landing on the beach and the grass. Some arched gracefully over and fizzed out near feet that were quickly tucked under chairs. Read more »
Raindrops splatter against shattered thoughts and machines skim over roads leading nowhere, splashing through soiled puddles of discarded dreams and broken souls, making it hard to sleep. Hearing the dissonant syncopation of lightning-- the loud, harsh laugh-- and teardrops from ominous clouds, a blight upon the light of day. Branches dance, due to the exhalation of angels, but then again, maybe not. Maybe breathing isn't necessary for beings of superiority. Little feet clad in rubber boots seek to soak up the dreams, renewing them, bringing the souls back to life. To happily slop them back onto damp pavement. So often are these things forgotten, ignored. The predictable simplicity of a raindrop cast aside for the beautiful complexity of a snowflake.
Sometimes she sits in the chair,
staring into the complexity of life from an observers point of view.
Her hair grasps her head in short waves,
her fingers riddled with change.
Her eyes a light twinkling blue.
She smells of things that comfort us,
Her arms envelop us in a hug,
made of love and caring.
every particle that was placed.
She tells us of boxes,
that have not limeted her,
but have made her wiser.
her love can follow you,
her love can make you live,
She is amazing,
She is blazing,
She is Addie.