I walk amidst opaque clouds
That hold many wild stories.
They tell tales of flying through space,
Or of monsters chasing someone,
Or even of falling endlessly.

I dance amidst the shadowy clouds
As they act out their stories.
Bright lights pop up here and there,
Loud music plays in one cloud as
Soft melodies play in others.

I leap and shout for joy
As I watch a little girl soaring
In the air with her cuddly
Teddy bear, but shiver with fear as
A small boy is terrorized by his imaginary monster.

I watch all these stories unfold,
Each one with a uniqueness like
None other.
That's when I realize that all of these stories...
...Are dreams.
 

Someone to laugh and talk with.
I'm a wall, surrounding you from your inner horrors.

Sometimes our eyes
Say more than our mouths...

I found a small and vivid bee
Laughing and sipping from a wildflower
It danced in spirals across the field with each passing hour.
Falling across the rays of sunshine, this creature could only see
The good in the world, because he only knew how to be free.
He found a drop of silver dew that he quickly devoured.
Its fairy wings buzzed upon his back as he flew through the willow's bowers
And alight upon the blooming cherry tree.

Then came the winter's cold decree
And the wind began to sour
He had to run and flee
Leaving scattered leaves of tea
I never saw him in the meadows that had began to deflower
But he left his tall stemmed towers.




 

Because I am graduating this year it finally hit me that I'd have to leave and I had a crisis about it, so I wrote a poem about it.
Enjoy.

I used to be embarrassed to say that I am from Winooski. 
I would lie, hide, do whatever I could to disguise it.
And point every flaw I could to try to distance myself if I was ever found out. 
Now,
As we are honing in on these last few months,
Where soon I will actually have to leave,
I don't want to. 
It has recently dawned upon me how much this school and community has had an impact on who I am and who I will become once my tassel goes right to left and I exit these doors once and for all.
So I suppose I'm writing this as a thank you. 
Thank you to the student body, teachers, administration, everybody that has seen me cry and heard me say hundreds of times that all I want to do is fail and drop out, but then taking me over and over, and helping me succeed. 

I walk into the store with my head high and my shoulders back. I walk down one isle and don’t shy away from people looking in my direction. My walk is steady, but my heart is racing. A pick up a box labeled “FIRE RED HAIR DYE.” I walk straight to the counter and slide the box toward the cashier. When she asks how my day is going I respond with a smile and a “It’s good! How about yours?” She seems almost frightened by my enthusiasm so I just hand her the money, take the box of hair dye, and exit the store with my head down. I try not to let that awkward encounter ruin my good mood.

When I get home I realize that I had been smiling the whole time in the car. I was so excited that my parents had finally let me dye my hair. It’s the last day of summer and I was ready to go back to school with a cool, new hairstyle. I am going to be a highschooler this year and I feel so grown-up. I didn’t expect everything to go horribly wrong.

I’m afraid, 
the world doesn’t love me
it doesn’t care about a girl from a little state in Vermont 
I’m just another problem
something to worry about
even if I am a child of god
he may not care of me
or see me
for who I am
show me
am I loved?
do you care
no,
you don’t cause you just think you only matter
I am alone
left to cry
to show fear
I have no light at the end of my tunnel



im different,
I care what the news, friends, family, even what the president says
Cause I am different
no boy or friends to love

that is what are world has come too
what we consider friends is
a heart next to a post
what are we doing with are lives


....I may not be loved but
share your love with people in your school, work, Community

 

 

Restless, I open my eyes. Weird. I do not hear Hazel’s soft breathing. Instead, I hear footsteps. Deciding to go back to sleep, I lie down again, urging myself to just fall asleep. Just fall asleep. Just fall asleep. Just fall asleep…
Briiiiiiiiing! Alarm clocks. Being a parent of a six-month-old baby, means that I lose patience and most of all; sleep. I walk angrily to Hazel’s crib. Staring at her, I realize her eye shape is different. The yellow stripes on her onesie were closer together. Usually, George  would tell me that I was hallucinating or just finding an excuse to panic. No. This was serious.
Where was the real Hazel? I grab the phone and quickly dial nine-one-one. Fake Hazel is crying as I impatiently stomp my foot on the bedroom floor. George comes running in.
“What’s the matter, Honey??!” he cries, tears forming.