Creative Writing III: 8th Grade & High School
Iris & Spaces
reborn eyes meet
ones of peridot and obsidian
beneath the daily curtain
of warmth and white light
hidden pockets of stowed time;
few contemplate the fog,
the grounding cypress hedgerows
more secret than these dwellings
a fresh closeness swirling green and purple
study the soul, then carob and penny
chew on the warm content
choke on monarch butterflies
shift of view: from room to mind
a harbor for difference: A Nest Of Cupids,
the blue tin can and rose cotton
revel then sink into the sublime
A monster ravages within and without,
Clawing sanity, shredding us all,
Bound to home like rats in a trap,
In our hearts a wound that won’t heal,
Only family to rock you to sleep.
Through the terror, they’re always there.
The happiness of my household.
Jumping on the trampoline, splashing
In the hot tub. Candyland, Mario Kart,
Karaoke in the kitchen.
Now, I ask why?
Why doesn’t your family
Fulfill your want for fun?
The ones who held you, loved you, birthed you.
They who house you, feed you still.
Are they not enough? Not fun, not cool,
Past the field and past the mazy mountain range
Stood lonely old Windmill covered in vines
That stretched from California to Canada.
The wind never came to visit now.
Windmill hoped Wally would come back one day.
Wally left his windup wizard doll during the last hurricane.
Windmill hoped for the day when the wind would come home.
Windmill never learned to let go.
Wind & Mr. Owl
Wind soared across the ocean, over mountains, passed over the same desert at least seven times on his way to borrow oat milk from Mr. Owl.
Wind glided down to a big bright door with a little wood block that said Home Sweet Home.
He rang the doorbell and heard a giant ticking, but then the noise stopped and it was peaceful again.
Mr. Owl greeted Wind, who stepped into the treehouse. All he saw was a teapot.
Blue Paper Mask
Our faces were masked all this time.
For three years our smiles closed up
from the outside. When we could finally
take off these blue paper masks,
where would that smile go?
That smile would be half.
That smile would be awkward.
That smile would be covered by a hand.
* * *
Before picture day we leaned against the wall,
Hung on a stall, fixed our hair and makeup.
“No, seriously, you look so good.”
“Here, let me fix that curl for you.”
“You’re one of the prettiest girls I know, don't worry about it!”
It had been so long.
We felt so naked.
One girl finally said, “I practiced in front of a mirror
for three hours yesterday, and it still doesn’t look right.”
* * *
What looks right?
What about what feels right?
Have we forgotten what it feels like?
Have we forgotten why?
Now I understand.
The fear of how others see me.
If my appearance changed,
would people treat me differently?
Every night this question haunts me
just as it haunts so many others.
How can I be free from the blue paper mask?
How can I be free from the fear of judgment?
What am I even afraid of?
Rose Tinted Glasses
nostalgia materializes in a yellow-lit stairwell
hope lined these railings in red
fight familiar whispers dare imagine
a second floor --
here the frames of a purple smile, brown eyes, a blue moment
watch the red dissolve
lean on the railing
It scars, it singes, slowly searing the hope you once had
The torches they bear, the words they say,
They make you wonder what went wrong
That inferno that burns inside them,
What makes it engulf the freedom you once held
Fear not, for fire can be extinguished too
By the wonder, the wish for change
The rain, it showers you with hope,
The ones who still care,
Flame turns to steam
Maybe, just maybe, the mighty flare
Doesn’t merge into the incandescence
We see—instead, becomes the great
Blessing we deserve.
Watching you fade away before me.
Moments ago you looked like a small child, uncomfortable and scared of what you had become. The way tears rolled down your cheeks mixing with the blood stained on your face, I couldn’t help but feel empty as I walked over to wrap my arms around you. You can’t leave me, not when I’ve already drunk bitter loneliness before. But you just stood there. Your voice sounded so weak as you said your final words, I’m sorry, before you disintegrated to sparks. Then nothing.
You had been fated to die long ago, yet you continuously came back. But this time it really was the end. I turned my head to look at the night sky. It was not its usual black self, it was red. I could sense the heavy smell of blood surrounding me. I thought all this was to save humanity, but instead I’m here with an unbearable task. Around me the bodies of thousands of soldiers who died to protect their loved ones. How do I speak for the dead? It's not my place.
Tears filled my eyes as I looked up. Everyone taken from me — my brother, Akkato, all my friends and familiar faces I knew from the Commission — all right there in front of me. They were happy, holding hands and smiling, as they drifted into the light, slowly disappearing one by one.
I ran with all my remaining strength hoping they would take me with them. I reached for my brother before passing through him, falling to my knees. This time I couldn’t stand up. My chest felt too heavy. The thick air made it hard to breathe. I watched them all disappear, revealing the real world before me, where I still need to rebuild our promised neverland.
Goodbye never hurts until you know you can never say hello again.