Mount Mansfield Union High School
For a while, I may sit and write of all the things that are known
But when I sit and think long enough even the known becomes mysterious
Could it be, that humanity only scrathes the surface of everything out there?
That what we think are great discoveries are really just basic facts
And maybe, the great theories we are still working on, will not eve help our greater problems.
However, if those mysteries that seem to be immense are only miniscule,
does that mean that the issues that threaten our daily life are just as small in scale?
And, to that, I say to you, no.
If a breathe of fresh air seems important to you now,
Do everything you can to get that air.
If a clean beach with no litter is necessary for your happiness,
pick up the trash you see and feel the sand in your toes.
You only have one life to live.
So I say to you, no, and repeat
You only have one life to live.
Be proud of what you do.
If you feel sucessful you are. You cant go to the past and you cant go to the future.
Any stone you jump over could be life's greatest hurdle
Or it could just be a stone
So take those stones an jump because you can only go as far as you try.
If you looked closely
You would find
A well of ink in someone’s mind Read more »
Legal adult now, kid at heart.
Cold heat drives
Into the hot day
Wishing away summers
But you can wish away.
Within the bleak of doubt and shame
Lies just a silver heart that’s slane
And in the depths of innocence
Has conjured up an emotion fence Read more »
One night I dreamt
I dreamt of children loved and warm hugs.
One night I dreamt
Of clambering heights and weighted lead thrown away. Read more »
I am tired.
So tired I could cry and burn inside,
because this burden is so raw,
My future written like a law. Read more »
The tide moves in,
bringing me closer to you
I am one with the tide
And there you are,
looking at me,
but you don't know that I'm alongside.
And along the way
you look at he sunset
and say, "it's so pretty"
but all the time
I'm trying to get your attention
and you just darn miss me.
You smile and lie down
of all the people you know.
But here I am,
wanting to be one of them,
but I guess my want doesn't show.
You make a remark
of how lonely you are,
and I reach out to hold your hand
but you're too far away
and I can't reach
and tell you that I understand.
Your face is nice.
No, no that's wrong.
can I try again?
your, you know
Okay, just give me one more chance.
are like a lake of the purest water.
I find myself staring into them and feeling
Wait, what did I just say?
One more chance, please. Read more »
Am I a fool
For believing in dreams?
For being the one to hear the screams?
The ones that I’m not supposed to hear, Read more »
That night was the first night
That I dreamt a vivid dream
I could see every detail
Hear perfectly each scream.
Hard muscle-bound machine,
sleek curves in perfect shadow in the half-light,
sinuous rotation and swivel, poetry,
liquid music gliding by moonlight,
a compact angel spurred to
breathtaking heights in seconds,
Read more »
Stand, a silhouette, in darkened doorways
portals that lead
(can you hear it?)
to the rushing waves and gently swirling sands
stretching, falling just short of your line of view.
Sea salt and the promise of tomorrow's sparkling sunshine
on the water.
Or dark forests and starry skies,
whispering from a breeze, rustling,
a soft chorus surrounding, enveloping,
the faint scent of jasmine, gardenia, of
wild grass and damp wood, of fresh air.
Just there, beyond your gentle step
The ground under your feet can become springy and supple, woven with green,
can become sand that welcomes your bare toes, cool water swelling
around your ankles and pulling gently back again,
can become an expanse of desert, a cavernous
surreal and dreamlike in the nearly-set sun, a sliver of blue and of fierce fire
against a soft navy blanket pulled over the sky
to say goodnight.
It's all there.
(Can you hear it?)
Beyond the echoing quiet, the lonely lullaby
of the clock in the kitchen ticking out seconds eternally
too loud in the silence
and you alone.
Stand in the dark doorway
(Pretend there's someone waiting for you, stirring just beyond
a child reaching for you, a child drawing you in with chubby arms, tiny hands, with
young, sleep-heavy eyes and soft hair, or perhaps
a sheet-draped lover, all smooth skin and secret smiles and a curtain of enchantment, Read more »
It seems that when people tell you what to do, they always know the right answer. It's easy. Well, let me tell you something. If it were that easy, everyone would do the right thing, all the time. If it were even mildly difficult, people would still be able to do the right thing, all the time. If it were hard, people would still do the right thing. But easy isn't even close, and "hard" doesn't begin to cover it. It's complicated, multilayered, labyrinthine, cacophonous, unbelievable, it's even beyond that, beyond the description of any words I know. And I know lots of really good words. None of them seem to sum it up. Some situations don't seem to have any good solutions. And in the moments when you have to make snap decisions, it's even more impossible, because not only can one not see with the clarity often allowed by hindsight or foresight, but one is being asked to do so on a timer, which starts now, and the clock's ticking away.
Some days. Some days life feels like a bizarre, twisted race in which, at the starting line, I wasn't actually aware of. I never signed any contracts or was given any terms and conditions, and I didn't know the rules, which I gradually learned as spectators screamed them from the sidelines. They're confusing because all the cacophony and shouting mix in a choppy torrent of adrenaline, and, buffeted amid the chaos with no choice but to go along with it, it's hard to tell what they're saying, if I'm doing it right or wrong. I'm never allowed to move the way I want to; I'm navigating the other competitors who are equally confused but still barreling forwards because they don't know what else they can do. We're like a herd of frightened cattle in a stampede, thundering and shaking the ground. Sometimes I get hurt or just plain tired. But I'm not allowed to stop, may never rest lest I get behind. If I'm oozing into the ground with exhaustion, I have to crawl; if I break both legs, well then, I better keep dragging on with my arms and ignore the thick smear of blood trailing behind. I don't really know why I'm doing this--why any of us are doing this. It seems that I'm crawling and the horde around me is rushing too fast to answer. Some of them don't even really see me. A foot in the back flattens me to the ground, a kick in the head here and there. I try not to stay mad because they don't mean to. They're just trying frantically to keep up like everybody else. And, damn it, most of them seem to be doing it better than me. More easily. Why am I still doing this? Read more »
Recalled to life--
"I hope you care to live?
"I can't say." ()
Why would I long for life?
The living man condemned me to death,
An ancient Mariner drawn off his ship.
Recalled to life--
hammer on leather,
shoes forming under ancient hands,
perched on a stool; lost to the world
found by his daugter,
lost in his love.
Recalled to life--
Cruncher's rusted hands,
clutching his rusted shovel,
digging into the
earth, Read more »
Not much more before I break
I know they want me dead
The only thing they want now Read more »
And that's what you're upset about?
I am a pane
Of tinted glass.
Smudged with debri. Read more »
Here is where we can dream.
We can pirouette through clouds
And name ourselves any name.
Here is where we can hope Read more »
Rainfall cools the air. Each drop splatters on my slippery skin, The pounding of my feet and the sound of falling rain beating on stones, the horses' and cows' agitated noises in the background have a kind of lulling effect. A dog barks, barks over and over, insistently. Something's got the animals in a frenzy. Hooves beat in rapid succession, thundering across the ground. They're not just unhappy about my presence or the chilly rain. They're afraid down to their cores. Maybe I should be, too, but I'm not. I'm just not. All that exists are my breathing echoing in my ears, the rhythm of each footfall, the power behind my slamming heart, cooling rain moistening my skin, and mild distant background noise.
The thumb of the world ticks.
The palm of the needle flicks.
The world breathes it’s first breath.
Shaking the snow from it’s wind-spun crevices.
The Earth moves to the rhythm of time
Starting all over from Genesis.
The trees take their branches
And shake their entwined fingers
Scolding the icicles that are left.
The cold that still lingers.
The flowers prod the ground
With their angelically strong heads
Letting the earthen clay sift away
As they begin again.
The parched brown leaves rustle
Remnants still left
From the last spring that kissed the world
So that we would not forget.
They whisper in the breeze
They sing to the dew
Encouraging the trees
The buds start anew.
The spears on the roof
Made for agile fighters
Drip down melting
As if held above a lighter.
Back into the hard ground
The cold retreats
Gathering up the snow
That made up it’s fleet.
The staff is handed over
To the heat once again
When the seasons change once more
The ice will come then.
Now the glaze
Of the winter wears thin.
The battle’s fought,
The staff is bought
The springtime will win.
Sick and tired, I close my shaking eyes
Trying to wash out my hollow mouth
Water pounds upon my shoulders and I cough
As steam rises, to the dawning sky off the wooden floor Read more »
Ppl. PLZ stahp typing lyk dis.
My first sight of Belize showed a sunlit stretch of ground dotted with palm trees and a few brightly colored buildings. As the airplane drew level with the building and bumped down to Earth I saw big letters on the side of the building--two sentences on either side of the big window. On the left side it read, "Welcome to Belize," and on the right, "Bienvenidos a Belice." I loved Belize, and not just for the tourist sites. We did that stuff, yes. We went tubing through caves, we went ziplining through the jungle, we toured Altun Ha, a Mayan ruin site, and we went reef snorkeling in water as clear as flawless aqua glass. That day, I recall, I held a slithery tentacled creature called a "spiny starfish" which caused a fit of hysterical shrieking from a small child whose father kept urging her to, "Just hold it, look, it won't hurt you." But I also loved Belize City and its markets, the real ones, not the tourist facades. Children in school uniforms chased each other around their parents' business stalls. In a jewelry tent, a toddler napped peacefully on a table in the calm breeze while her mother offered me various headbands and shell necklaces. Belize doesn't have chain corporations, but we went to a little fast-food stand that might have been the Belize equivalent of McDonald's and bought a wrap with fried shark and spicy onion sauce. I also ate ox tail and a dish called "Royal rat." (Not actually rat, but a kind of possum-like creature). Belize City gave me my first taste of the daily life of other cultures, and I was intrigued by each new experience. Read more »
I've made many wishes in my life, wishes on birthday candles and pennies tossed in fountains and 11:11 and shooting stars. But the truth is, they were all a waste of wishes, I can see that now. World peace and no more troubles. Sure, well-intentioned, but nowhere close to hitting the mark of reality. In our aim to ease our lives we would take away everything that makes it a story: the uncertainty, the intensity of emotion, the hardship, the exhausted triumph of those who kept dragging onwards and made it. We were at a church when I made my final wishes, the ones I believed in most. We'd researched world hardship: violent wars, refugees, crippling poverty only a few among the topics. The whole world cries, hurts, screams, or lies awake pulsing fear in silence. I didn't pray to God to guide them all safely. I wanted to, but not everyone does make it safely to their end goals, nor do they always find what they were seeking there. It would be a waste. Following a great deal of candlelit reflection and thought, these three wishes formed. Dear God, please help me to make a difference it the world. Please help me to become a better person everyday than the one I was the day before. And please, for everyone who struggles and suffers, no matter what events comprise and conclude their stories, please give them a life that in the end makes their pain worthwhile. Please make it worth it, for them and for me. The candles flickered as I bent over the paper to write my prayers, and then I'd done all I could believe in, in the way of wishing. Amen.
Alma sat beside Lucy on the bench and pulled her bare feet up beside her. "Hey," She said as she began to let her hair down from its intricate hairdo. Her loose chocolate braid fell over one shoulder. "Hi, Alma." Lucy said. Read more »