Jan 28


I like imagining being the band conductor.
Just sitting there, hearing everything.
Every conversation,
Every secret note.

Hearing the melodious sound of the flutes,
While bickering among themselves.
And complaining about the music.

The blast of a trumpet making its point.
Proving to their bandmates that they are the loudest
Proudly the loudest.

The clarinets will squeak away,
Annoying everyone else to no end.
With the one clarinet that plays
The sweet legato tone.

Similarly, the saxophones,
Figuring out how to even make a sound
Eventually making a short, staccato note.
Then talking because they're confused.

The low brass.
Yes, they're back there.
Not playing- talking.
When they play, in that rare moment,
You can't even hear them.
How disappointing.

And the conductor.
Standing there in the front,
Jan 24


D              G E            O U T           I                H            T        S
R  E         O    N         U               P  R             G  A     A   A       A
E      N     A   I           T O           S  K   I           U      M     C      W
A    I         L    U         D             N        N         A               O    
 M             S       S     O F F       I            G      L              S       U

Words to look for: dream, denim, goals, genius, outdo, out, to, off, inspiring, ski, laugh, ham, mat, tacos, and saw u. 

I just decided to do this and I really like it. Let me know if you can't find any of the words and I'll edit it. 
Jan 24


i find that a book is a treasure.
a treasure many people can have, but few fully understand.
everyone takes it differently.
nobody looks at it from the same angle.

a book is like a rainbow.
it is beautiful and colorful,
people receive it differently.
some people receive it with excitement,
others with disappointment and an audible sigh.
but it's a rainbow.
you can't hate it.

a book is a piece of art.
it takes creativity and hard work to make, 
and is inspiring to all who see it.

i revere all writers.
they pour their emotions out
to weave words together in such intricate ways.

this, this is why i am a writer.
so i can learn to weave words together
and make a beautiful tapestry of words. 
and get that recognition and reverence
so i, too, can inspire young writers. 
Jan 16


If anxiety was a color,

It would be black

As dark as the night sky without stars.

If anxiety was a taste,

It would be just like blood in your mouth.

If anxiety was a feeling,

It would be as nerve-wracking as presenting in front of a crowd.

If anxiety was a smell,

It would be as nasty as burning eggs.

If anxiety was a sound, 

It would be booming like a large gong. 

This was for a class assignment, but I really liked it and wanted to let others read it. 
Jan 14


i am grateful for the tissue
that encompasses my nose 
while i pause to sneeze.
i am grateful for the tissue
to clean up my mess.
i want to write this piece
but i must go
for i have to sneeze.
Jan 10


    I am grateful to be in the majority of Americans (white, female, middle class, etc.) but I cannot sympathize with those who are of color, or who are being discriminated against because I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE. I rely on stories, and I do sympathize and empathize with that person, but it's hard to do when most everyone at your school is white, when you live in one of the whitest states, when your family is white. 
  I am part Ghanian, but it's only 1/32 of my DNA, and I've never been discriminated against or had anyone close to me be discriminated against. I am passionate about civil rights, and I have written about it, but I don't have experience. And I'm the type of person who needs to experience things to sympathize and empathize. 
    The only thing I really could experience would be gender discrimination, but I would sass that person until they leave me alone.

Jan 09


anxiety attacks you like an angry swarm of bees.
makes it so you can't move
you are frozen
and terrified out of your mind.
but for me,
anxiety possesses me.
moves my hand to my scalp
so i can pluck out hairs.
i am a trichster
with a terrible disease
with no cure
and you can't stop it
it's called trichotillomania
i am not alone
yet i feel alone
​because no one understands
not even my therapist.
but i feel ashamed
for some reason
of this thing i have
of my anxiety
of the bald spot i ahve
that's not even visible 
unless i point it out. 
Jan 07


Jan 06


i try.
i try so hard just to be able to speak up,
but somebody always interrupts
i have to decide when i speak up,
how, now? no.
i want to defend myself,
but i'm afraid i'll get too upset,
which leads to sass.
and then i get in trouble
for that sass
when really i was just upset.
i want to change the world,
but i'm too shy.
i can't speak in front of crowds
because my anxiety engulfs me until i am no longer myself,
i am a manifestation of fear.
what will i do?
i don't want to appear too bold,
or too shy.
i just want to have my moment
to do something. 
Jan 02


You say I go to Pennsylvania for home-baked pumpkin pie.
But I don't.
I go for family,
For pets,
For others who support the Eagles,
While I am out-of-place
In New England.
I go to see the city.
I feel free in the city,
Like there are no boundaries.
I go for diversity.
Much more than Vermont.
So many people
So many stories.
I want to hear them all.
I go to be myself.
Because it's hard to be yourself
In a small, small town.