Oct 19
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We The People

I'm furious
And that's saying a lot for me
And I'm tired
Of this fight of climate and corporations
Oil and overheating
Melting and methane
Of people who care
Scrapping at the outskirts 
Of climate power. 

I'm 16
And like to cross country ski
In the woods behind my house
But when I'm 36
When I want to hike in the woods
With my kids
I'm afraid
There won't be any trees
When I want to teach them to ski
I'm afraid
There won't be any snow
And when I want to teach them
To protect this earth
I'm afraid
There will be nothing left to save.  

I can't hurtle through time
And guarantee those
Human rights will exist
20 years from now
I can't grab the world
With an outstretched arm
And paint it green again.

I'm 16
With ample years ahead of me
With ample passion and ideas
Burning in my chest
Oct 11
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On A Deserted Road

In a muddy gray car
On a thirsty dirt road
She drives with no destination in mind. 

The last drops of
Balmy air whip her hair
Into a thorny halo
And guitar-rich music
Trails behind the car.

Sweetness diffuses into
Her nose
Along with hints
Of ripening leaves
Distant cow manure
And a future pumpkin patch
(She smells her mom in the kitchen).

The sun is hovering
Somewhere over a golden lake
But she can't keep her eyes
Off the pink-streaked sky
Set over the orange speckled hills-
A crown atop a queen.

She's afraid she won't
stay on the road
As beauty hijacks her senses
But she doesn't care
Because she has nowhere to go but
Where the sky leads her.

The leaves skip from their branches
The sun melts into the lake
The last popsicle of the season.

She turns off the engine
Sep 24
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She Swallows the Sun

With waves crumbling on her back
She stands
With neck growing to the sky
And clouds dotting her eyes
She swallows the sun
And smiles. 

Her throat blisters like 
Swallowed ghost peppers
Tears squeeze from
Eyelids clamped shut
Her burning body
Screams for a shortcut
To dissipate the tempestuous fire.  

With raindrops flying from her back
Her heart smokes 
With wind prying her hair
From her head
She feels her blood warm
It whooshes through her veins
Amid a rising storm. 

Her body tenses and 
Strains under pressure
Light fills every nook
Of bodily space
Every cranny of personality
And light 
Streams down her face.

With feet in an angry sea
She stands
With head in hungry clouds
Fire erupts
From her fingertips
And sews sun into 
A world left barren.

The sky becomes her blanket
Sep 16
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The Sky's Utensils

The sky grabbed a knife and spread dirt over the ground like brownie batter in a pan. The sun baked it. The wind shook on green sprinkles. And so this sweet world was born.

Nestled under a wise old trunk, amethyst flowers float over a grass picket fence. Their pliable pea stems jut into ancient brownie crumbs; they stake their claim to this earth. Water, sunlight, wind (life), has granted them the pass of growth that has brought them to this day. Victorious and proud they stand with arms open to the sky. Delicately set petals flutter amongst a timeless breeze, rolling onward like a finger run along a thousand piano keys. Hammering rain has dissolved the nostalgic oval leaf. In lieu lies a crinkled heart on the precipice of its first love. The tenderness of the flowers wafts into the sky. Perhaps, if one opens their nose, their lungs will be renewed with undying endearment.
Aug 27
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Golden Hills

An olive laced wind dances
Across red shingled roofs
The sun aloof
In this tepid sort of evening.

Salt dots the air
Nearby evening prayer
Slips down golden hills
And settles in the vineyards.

Blue and white and ancient shimmer
Flutter from flag poles
Foggy in the glittery haze
The end of the day glaze.

The birds raise their voices
In honor of the falling sun
And so forth a friendship spun
A song of life and nature. 

Peace lies and the land sighs
In the infancy of a tranquil evening
Nestled by the sea. 
Aug 17
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The Importance of Personalized Learning and How Our Schools Fall Short

Parkinson’s disease can be caused by a variety of genetic mutations. One damages PINK1, a protein that sticks to the tops of damaged mitochondria, tagging them to be broken down. Spring of my sophomore year bio class I had the opportunity to dig into the genetic and biochemical mechanisms behind Parkinson’s disease. Armed with a school-issued Chromebook, a world of scientific papers lay at my hands. With the gifted of hours of free class time, I had the space to dissect the text, taking full advantage of Google and control find. Pencil sketches and teacher-scrawled questions guided me along the mind-blowing path of biology and my questions popped up like branches on a tree. For the first time, I had the freedom to follow those questions, self-designing research to fit my interests. I had stuck my feet into the river of personalized learning and was prepared to let it sweep me onward.
Aug 02
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Cocoon

She burrowed nimble fingers
into the soil's depths.

Brown lines traced themselves 
upon her short cut nails
And cool brownie crumbs
danced in her palms.

She lifted her hands
as one would lift the world:
carefully, powerfully,
backed by the sky's love.

Soil lay in the cocoon 
of her hands.

She rolled her eyes back
as if trying to look inside herself
for something of interest...

Aha. 
And so the tongue wiggling began. 

With a vehement spit
A black watermelon seed
plunked down onto the soil.

She wiggled her hands a bit
to blanket the seed
And then stood still

waiting for the rain. 



 
Aug 02
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The Earth's Grave

On a crunchy, cheek-reddening morning
I shoved open my ice crusted door
And ventured forth into the pillowy landscape.

As I walked southward, into the crown of the trees,
A frosty butterfly flapped its way
Onto my purple pompom. 

It was vibrant blue
Adorned with black rivers
And reminded me of the earth. 

But it had these ice crystals
Threaded upon its winds
That seemed to weigh it down,
Or perhaps just petrify it,
Preventing any type of progress.

So, I pulled off my gloves
And cradled the butterfly
With bare, human hands.

I allowed myself to seep
Into those promising wings.

The crystals retreated
And the black rivers
Began to flow.
The world came alive. 

Excitement spiked through my hands
I held on more tightly
For, look at the wonderful
Impact a human can have!

The black rivers raged
Jul 12
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Little toes

I stood in the sea
little toes mushing into
waterlogged sand. 

Deep gray waves
crisscross crashed 
under the charcoal blanket
woven of clouds.

The tide pulled at my
blue tinted ankle bones
and the wind whipped
a hair cloud around my face.

Raindrops began to pla plunk 
into white tipped water
which blossomed with
overlapping ripples 

Black clouds tightened 
around my head
and the wind edged me
towards the hungry sea.

I wondered
What did the universe do
to anger the earth
into this howling fashion? 

The sand trembled
shaking seaweed out
of its mineral pores
And the water danced
frenzied spirals
through my little toes.

Here I am
in the middle of the sea
catching the sky's sorrow.

 
Jun 26
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Tiny Writes Lettering

Jun 24
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Star Whispers

The stars are screaming their story tonight
through the sonorous megaphone
Of empty space

Triumphant stardust 
rains down from the explosion
"Look at me,
blown to pieces
and magnificent"'

Electromagnetic radiation
400-700 nm
Beaming upon sullen spotted grass
"Hey, I'm looking out for you"
-Light from afar

 "I will ignite
the path back home"
Says fairy light constellations
and buddy stars
Tracing swirls across my sky

Silence is stamped across
the universe
Or so it seems from the earth bubble

"Listen to me"
Whispers the stars
Jun 19
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Flower crown

I have 17 flowers on my head
For each of the 16 years I've lived
and one for the year that is to be.

Some are shriveled up by now,
or may I say preserved 
In their barest, waterless state.
Rosy pigmentation wiped away
a quilt of black and white photographs.

Those middle years have retained
structure, color, and a bit of spring
One can dive in and still imagine
the fullness of the year.

As for the most recent
Bees still dip in and out collecting
sweet, dripping nectar
Tails brushing bright pollen memories. 

The tail end is adorned with a little button
of a peach pink bud
Which has only begun to peek
out of it's promising leathery shell.

All these flowers are
gently studded among a twisting vine
Woven into a graceful, but sturdy flower crown
Which can be found perched upon the tip of my head
at any time or place.



 
May 31
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Fairy Lights

I believe in once upon a times
And fairy tales
Abundant bedtime stories
And wonder

Fairy godmothers looking after me
Favoring hard work and heart
A grand savior

I believe in look-less love
That inner beauty exists all around me
Waiting to transform
And redeem
With one simple rose

I believe in big gingerbread houses
That warn against temptation
But teach of self-preservation
The triumph of the innocent!

And, dwarfs
Receiving love with open arms
Patience,
For what one loves

I believe I can climb to the sky
And claim the world
By chopping down the stalk
In admirable bravado

I believe in dreams
Hope
And buckets full of imagination
Fairy lights
Stringing together
The world

 
May 24
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Paper Thin


I was walking in a garden one day
and a little girl turned to me
Eyes sparkling in beauty she said
Soft and delicate
“I want to be a butterfly one day”.

Straight out of a fairytale
Barely brushing a purple daffodil
Was a paper thin
vibrant blue butterfly.
Soaking in the summer sun
Dancing lazily
in toasting air
Enjoying the possibility of flight.

I looked at her
Eyes tracing curled golden pigtails
Floating tulle dress
A soft hope
of 4 cakes of birthday wishes
I said,
With all the grit I could muster,
“You better wish you’ll be a bat one day”
Her eyebrows brushed the sky.

“Grow thick leathery wings
That can’t be torn by a sandwich toothpick”
I proclaimed

“And bare those nasty
Pointed yellow fangs
With all the pride in the world
For you’re going to have to dig them in one day.
File your claws to perfection!