National Poetry Month!

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The World Haiku

By: Emma VonHoene and Yoojin Cho

The trees are bright green

The sky was very deep blue

The grass was green too.

The Bird

By: Mahima Malik

Voiceless bird under the shades of blossom,

Endearing the bitter sorrow in autumn.

Poignancy of emotion swimming through the ocean.

A tree swaying with the regret of demotion.

Up so high is the pale violet sky,

I feel so weary, I can’t even try.

Those evening winds bring some cheer,

That bright morning makes me disappear.

I scream with a powerful keen,

Yet again it’s all a dream.

Those light brown eyes sparkled with tears

So unfortunate, nobody hears.

Mine

By: Mahima Malik

I see it departing in front of my eyes.

I can’t have it is, what I realize.

I see someone else taking what should’ve been mine-

Thinking about it feels like a crime.

I want my feelings to hide;

I can’t have them come outside and ruin my life.

I don’t deserve it, it can’t be mine.

I want it, but it’s nowhere close to my life.

Mask

By: Nicholas Nagle

Mask

It is the thing that hides you from the rest of the world

It is the thing that protects you

It is the very thing that most conflicts with honesty and deceit

One dawns on their mask to feel safe

In order to not feel the pain of others

But one does feel the strife

The agony as it smothers

One person says it’s a smile

The other says it’s a frown

Far away from all feeling, nearly a mile

A mile away from the town

Some say “tell the truth” while they lie themselves

The hypocritical product of the mask

One believes the lie

While others deny the truth

One may try to remove their mask, but they will fail

For one cannot simply discard a part of their very skin

It is one with you and you are one with it

Entirely by your own choice

My mask seems beneficial

But I know it only deceives others

When I am truly in need of help not one person knows

Not God nor man nor anyone in between.

Summertime Breezes

By: Nicholas Nagle

Oh, gentle summer blossom

How you smell so sweet

The sunset skies turn a summer autumn

As the grass tickles my feet

 

One such time comes seldom a year

Waiting through the frost of winter

For all of the games and parties full of cheer

That seasonal depression now whimpers

 

The green leaves fall from treetop high

The ants and critters scurry on ground below

For those warm breezes that flow through the night

Flow through the wings of the firefly glows

 

Feel the dirt in your hands

Wipe the sweat off your brow

It’s these summertime breezes that take you away to distant lands

Where one can rest their head after a long tomorrow

 

So, stop for a minute, wait and see

This wondrous beauty to me

For when those summertime breezes come to take you away

You’ll never look back on another day.

I Can See the Fall

By: Nicholas Nagle

I can see it when the lies do start

The lies within the lives of the darkest hearts

Perfecting their trade like a work of art

I can see the fall when it starts

 

Deceitful truth and wasted time

People’s personalities like that of a mime’s

Mimicking and mocking the movements of mine

I can see the fall when there is no more time

 

Wasted action which has struck an accord

With every single splinter caused by every wooden door

Others scream while others snore

I can see the fall when they knock on my door

 

Unending chaos and constant torment

These are the feelings of my descent

Descent into madness while others came and went

I can see the fall when I’m viewed as a transient

 

The dark clouds cover

The cold wind smothers

Now, no one cares to bother

I can feel the fall as it hinders

 

Now, night has come

People draw out their guns

There is no more sun

I can no longer see the darkness as it comes.

Forever

By: Nicholas Nagle

The strangest word ever

As strange as a ten pound feather

As strange as sunny-stormy weather

 

A word open to so much perception

Yet full of lies and deception

And worst of yet, not to mention

The constant introspection

 

One can speak, but not talk

Run, not walk

See, but not stalk

Hear, but not mock

 

‘Forever’ is a scornful word

That is too often heard

By the love-touched fool who hast not yet learned

The pain of the beating and the words that hurt

 

‘Forever’ is too complex

In words, sounds, and over text

From the one who thinks you’re best

To the one who stabs you in the chest

 

I cannot say forever anymore

A word, soft spoken, to painful to be heard

I must say goodbye, until nevermore

But that cannot be, you are no longer heard.

Not a Love Poem

By: Nicholas Nagle

This is a not a love poem

Because love is not real

It’s about as real as the word “home”

And as real as you’re “supposed” to feel

One can say love is true

Others call it “blind”

I don’t think it’s true

Because I’ve never been able to call someone “mine”

People say “move on”

While others scorn and shun

But can you truly move on from something

That never truly begun?

Spit on me if you wish

I am a friend to the hate by now

This feeling I feel from a love I miss

She won’t even look at me; she turns her brow

This is not a love poem

Because love hurts so much

Like a thorn on a rose

It makes you bleed to the touch

For now, I surrender to my fall

Although I have not risen yet

I hope for there to be an end to it all

This feeling of love that is not over yet.

The Things You Say

By: Nicholas Nagle

The things you say are kind

They are meaningful and true

The things you say are lies

There’s nothing else to do

 

One could say they’re sweet

So full of love and light

But they leave you in defeat

Isolating you in the night

 

The things you say are gentle

They are hilarious and nice

The things you say are mental

They feel as cold as ice

 

The things you say are different

Constantly changing evermore

But the sounds of words grow distant

Far away on other shores

 

When the things you say change

Don’t be afraid to ask

I will wait here in exchange

For just another laugh.

The Shell

By: Kathryn Artis

I am fire,

I am flame.

I am all of my desires

Built all the same.

My strength is fierce,

My will a pyre

Full of righteousness that no word can devour.

I fight my own battles-

Wage my own wars;

Don’t let what rattles

Bite me in scorn.

I’ve brick for a skin,

Ice for a heart-

Yet even still

I’ve fallen apart.

My patience runs thin-

Endurance runs low,

My will turns a sin

Begging for snow.

I am still fire,

I am still flame.

But I am a liar

Called by false name.

It burns inside me,

This game that I play;

Deceiving insightfully

Those who I say.

These flames reduce my dreams

Into nothing but ash,

Only deeming me

Too far gone to catch.

So I turn to my will

That’s been burned raw by sin,

And let my icy heart kill

Where the scars all begin.

The burning subsides-

A balance has welled.

And now I do not fear being my own shell.

Names

By: Kathryn Artis

Your name isn’t Hercules,

is it?

How about Atlas,

Achilles,

Odysseus,

Perseus.

You are not Hero.

You are not God.

You are a single piece in a link of chain-

useless,

idle,

insignificant without the bond of the other pieces.

If you push against those bonds,

if you condemn yourself with your own strength,

bury yourself in a sea without currents,

you are digging yourself a deeper grave

with no one to pull you out of it.

You will have no one,

and you will be no one.

So listen.

You are not Hercules,

you are not Atlas,

you are not Achilles,

you are not Odysseus,

you are not Perseus,

You are only human.

 

Mangled, But Still You

By: Kathryn Artis

When your mind is sane,

but your body is crazy.

When you wish nothing more

than to push your limits-

to make new boundaries-

but your machine has failed.

You are an animal among others.

What is different?

What is same?

What are you?

Nothing is different,

and you are same as the day before.

You are same the day before that day,

and the day before the day before that day,

you are same.

You are an animal.

Spat broken from the world of technology,

machine mangled and broken,

you are an animal.

But no-

animals can be,

and you cannot.

So what are you now?

Who are you now?

You are you.

Broken,

mangled,

but still you.

Ghost

By: Kathryn Artis

So what reasons do you have

to complain.

You have reason

in your mind,

so why do you go about your day

thinking you should’ve had it better.

You have oak roots;

weed influences;

vine relations;

floral qualities.

So why,

when people like me-

dead and dying plants-

are recycled into Earth,

are you complaining?

Your present may not be perfect-

but just remember,

at least you have a past.

Trust If You Must

By: Kathryn Artis

A tree grips the ground like a child to its mother,

While an ocean churns and swirls as its waves seem to hover.

Two important forces

With vastly different courses,

And yet both will end up 
the same.

Soil turns soiled

And gravity turns disloyal-

The tree will come crumbling down.

The moon betrays the trust

Of a powerful water’s gust,

And soon its momentum will be slayed.

The strength of the moons

And the surety of the grounds,

Makes those of us who trust them look nothing but loons.

But if you’ll just look, that’s when you’ll see,

That we have the moons all about us and soils in sprees.

Change

By: Kathryn Artis

Throughout the course of time- history- as they say,

There is a pattern.

Nations come and they fade,

But people always, always stay the same.

Drugs are still irresistible,

Alcohol always too tempting,

And gold is just too precious to refuse.

The love that once flourished,

Has been tainted with fumes

Of greed and self-zeal that no individual can induce.

But change is irrelevant-

Everything persists.

So what is change,

And does it really exist?

Inferno

By: Kathryn Artis

She is the selfish,

He is the crude.

They are the victims

Of something untrue.

Grown to inspire

Grown to protrude

From all of society

Who knows not what they do.

Their faces are hidden

Under deep deep scars

From all of the hatred

That tore them apart.

Yet even with this,

Their souls lay untacked,

Bound with barbed wire

Instead of huckaback.

Their reality is true

As the way they’ve been born;

Nothing that’s false

lives forever in scorn.

Faces alight

Not from their own fire

But from all of society

Who’s built up its pyre.

Their scars shrivel up

As they watch it all unfold-

The burning of books

And stories not told.

Sunset

By: Ms. Berg

The far forgotten—glint—a ray,

The never-ending of the day.

…I’m late to catch: it started soon.

My breath, I linger ‘fore the moon

Ah!  Wish, it lasted—moment long

And see fore’er what will be gone

The colors bright, and lit, the sky,

It shines o’er all, and makes me fly!

And just a glimpse…!  Oh, God, I love

You—miss Your face, 

Your good, Your grace.

I am in awe and breathe for you

I’ll sit… I’ll wait… and see you woo.

Me, too.

 

And those were Centreville High School’s poetry submissions for April which is National Poetry Month. We hope everyone keeps on writing and submitting to us! Your work deserves to be seen!

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