Jun 24
maelynslavik's picture

A Distance That Doesn't Show

My legs launch of the block,
At the sound of the buzzer.
I glide smoothly into the water,
Forming delicate splashes,
And tiny waves.
My feet kick,
Pushing and pulling the water.
My arms haul me forward,
Moving the water behind me.
I flip,
Launching myself off the wall.
I am underwater.
Calm, and cool,
My muscles relax.
But then,
I start to swim again.
My muscles tighten quickly,
Like the water just dropped a dozen degrees.                                                                                                                                             
My fingertips graze the wall.
I have finished.
The water has transported me back to where I have started.
But I have still gone far,
Even if I’m right back where I began.                                                                    

 
Jun 06
maelynslavik's picture

Streaking Emotions

Lightning flashes,
Streaking bright yellow
Across the sky.
Thunder booms,
Rattling your brain,
Shaking your view.
The clouds let it out,
After bottling up the rain
And precipitation.
The sky is gloomy,
Finally letting itself be vulnerable,
An let its inner storms
Roll through the towns.
Its tears fall through the air,
Showcasing its sadness.
Lightning flashes and thunder booms,
Letting the sky throw its tantrum.

 
Jun 01
maelynslavik's picture

A Stance On Golden Water

My paddle dips into golden water,
Gently splashing,
The glassy water.
The board glides,
Creating a trail of where it’s been. 
The bubbles mark the area,
Marking where it has stood.
The water understands,
Respecting the boat,
And parting ways to let it through.
The paddleboard is strong,
Plowing through.
My paddle dips into golden water,
Letting the board show its stance.

 
May 31
maelynslavik's picture

Tires Persisting

My bike tires whir,
Moving along the dirt.
They grip the rocks and roots,
Saying their hellos and goodbyes,
Pushing me forward.
The grass and mud fights the force,
But the bike persists. 
It holds its own,
Fighting, 
And continuing to go forward.
They do their job,
Rushing me along the trails,
Without complaint.
The sticks admit defeat,
Cracking and crunching,
Realizing the bike is stronger.
My bike tires whir,
Inspiring me to persist.

 
May 24
maelynslavik's picture

Ode To Chocolate

I had to write an ode poem for Humanities class.  We were instructed to choose something silly, so I chose chocolate.  Here it is:

Chocolate, 
Oh chocolate,
You warm me head to toe.
Your smooth silky texture,
Feels like velvet against my tongue.
Chocolate, 
Oh chocolate
your sweet sweet taste,
Will shoot my mind to the moon,
Whisking me away from reality.
Chocolate, 
Oh chocolate,
The joy you spread,
Reaches abound the universe,
dissolving children's hearts.
Chocolate,
Oh chocolate,
Your deep brown surface
Like rich dark tree bark,
Mesmerizes the greedy fingers
Of schoolkids.Chocolate,
Oh chocolate,
You are the base of my life,
You make me calm,
And you always satisfy.


 
May 16
maelynslavik's picture

Splattered With Personality

I stare at my palm where a seed has been placed.  My friend, a genius in plants, gave it to me right before she left forever.  She had said, “Eliana, I have been researching for weeks, and tried to manipulate the DNA of the seed to create something that reflects your best qualities.  So please, plant it.  I made it specially so that it grows quickly.”

    “Okay,” I had whispered, as tears streamed down my face.  So now, here I am.  Following her request, and planting the seed.  

    I shove my shovel into the dark earthy dirt, again and again, until there is a fist sized hole. I gently press the seed into the ground, and push the mound of soil back over the seed.   It’s almost like burying up my friend and my memory of her.  A few more tears push their way through my lids, and stream down my cheeks.  I push myself up with my hands, and begin to walk away.  I’ll check on the seed in the morning.
May 15
maelynslavik's picture

Opinions Of A Book


My fingers flip through thin white sheets,
As I begin to wonder:
Do books ever get tired of being manipulated,
Or are they proud of the way they inspire?
Do they want to keep their stories to themselves
And self reflect for days.
Do they ever wonder what a bad ending looks like,
And do they ever feel neglected,
If they are left on the shelf for a while?
Do the pages feel sore from getting moved and flipped,
And feel injured when they are ripped?
What do books, or the the parts of them feel,
When they inspire and and judged and praised,
Or torn and left alone and need the comfort of making their own decisions?
How do the books feel when they are read?

 
May 07
maelynslavik's picture

Priorities Out The Door

Every time you think you’re totally in,
Your priorities will change and it’ll end up in the bin.

If you think you’d be anything, to be buried in a book,
Suddenly all you’ll need is to be locked on a look.

When all you want is to make fantastic food,
Soon you’ll be more concerned with the way you’re seen and viewed.

If you have large dreams and would do anything to play the flute,
Your priorities will morph into wearing a suit and looking cute.

If you only wish to be a star at soccer,
Soon you’ll ploy to meet a boy at his locker.

If you want something so bad you’re on the floor,
Whatever you wish for will soon be out the door.


 
Apr 25
maelynslavik's picture

Glowing Inspiration

I lean over the plastic white kayak,
Admiring the magnificent bay,
Filled with dinoflagellates.  
The glow, and sparkle,
Dance, and glimmer.
I reach to place my fist in the water,
And when I open it, it’s like a mini explosion,
A volcano erupting, baking and vinegar exploding.
Except instead of fire, or chemicals,
It’s made of light.
The glowing glimmers make me feel hopeful,
Happy, and optimistic.
The dinoflagellates themselves are microscopic,
But they are so proud, and so arrogant,
That they glow one hundred times bigger,
And one hundred times brighter than its actual size.
I pull my hand out of the water,
Knowing that the cells will die soon,
But their glow will remain forever,
Inspiring others, and bringing joy,
Even if it’s from a small shard of memory.
 
Apr 24
maelynslavik's picture

Miniature Paradise


I look out the window,
seeing a blanket of green.
The leaves create textures, and patterns.
Orange flowers are peppered through the branches,
popping out like stars in a night sky.
The bark on the trees looks pale
and smooth.
Sometimes I see crumpled brown leaves,
but mostly they're fresh,
healthy, and green.
Each leaf twig or petal blends in,
but still helps create
this miniature paradise.

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