Swordsmanship and Calligraphy

The coming of an end long waited
By sword, by pen
Both filled with thoughts ever hated
Hate fueled by the darkness in a righteous man’s soul
Like a beast kept under watchful eye
Waiting for the moment the master will die
Just a pen and a sword to decipher the truth
Many hours wasted in times of youth
Forgiveness is needed instead of tooth for tooth
Forgiveness is already given to those under his roof
A pen and a sword opposites of one another
Pen giving life like a loving mother
And a sword taking it away for a hated brother
By pen by sword
The coming of an end long waited.


Murchison Middle School

8th

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Illusion of a Home

The humid air embrace hugs me like a bear
Sand in my dripping wet salty hair
I’m in despair to feel the warmth
I suffocate without the spirit of hope
Nobody wants to hear it but I’m slowly drowning
I wish the Jupiter rain could fill me up ’til I see stars and my head is pounding
It feels much better than knowing the real concept of life has let you go
The blurry faded faces of people you used to know

All of today’s world is filled with snow and swirling white clouds of infinite pain
In the distance I can see
The swaying palm trees and faint smell of E-cigs
The lapis paint of the ocean waving for me to come home
All this expeditive motion produces emotion

An empty gaping hole floats in my heart from where I used to feel real life and true smiles
Grasping on forgotten people makes my stomach churn and m fingertips burn
But irreplaceable humans always turn into memories
You might lose the thought of them over time
But once you feel their presence again,
Your heart instantly remembers and fills

I swear this to the bone
I’ll open my eyes in the morning and end up home
I want to discard the emotion of alone.


Murchison Middle School

8th

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Human

She is white
Her skin is untouched snow
She is proud and she is pure
But she is not flawless

He is colored
His skin is like rich chocolate, oak trees, soft leather
He is strong and he is unique
But he is not equal

He is queer
He is loved and he is loving
He is content and he is accepting
But he is not valued

We fight for those who ar judged
But we judge those who are judging
We are organized and we are segregated
We value uniqueness while we oppress the unique

A rose is a rose regardless of color
A beach is a beach despite the sand
A human is a Human
And that makes us all the same

Between the fine, lines, the bars, and the tags
We are no better, no stronger, no lesser
Than every person around us
Because they are humans, too


Murchison Middle School

8th

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The Girl in the Hospital

A whisper
Echoes throughout my head.
Words
Bounce around in my brain.
An image
Burned into my retina
Won’t go away.

My eyes snap open.
Bright light fills my vision.
Tears are escaping my lacrimal gland.
I blink profusely
To return my eyes to their normal,
Vacant state.

It is loud.
Voices shout
Over machines
That are ceaselessly beeping.
Everyone is dressed in long white dresses,
With hair nets
And blue gloves.
Why are the wearing masks? Where am I?

That small image
Comes spiraling back into focus.
I remember,
For the first time
In three years.

A black vehicle
Runs a red light, into me.
My vision goes black,
And I lay in a coma
For three years, until just now.


Murchison Middle School

8th

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Hurricane

The bright sun is blazing,
in a sea of blue.
A gentle wind grazing
the tops of trees, too.

Suddenly, blue fades to gray.
The wind picks up; the rain pours down.
Trapped in their houses they will stay,
as destruction occurs throughout the town.

Houses crumble into piles of rubble,
water invading all around.
With storms and floods come great trouble,
trees are blown to the ground.

While some of us stayed safe and dry,
others were affected a great deal more.
Now all there’s left to do is try
to restore the city it was before.


Murchison Middle School

8th

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Ode to Buscuits

Biscuits are my favorite snack
This is an undeniable fact

Warm with a golden tint
Looking over causes my eyes to squint

At the beauty of the delicious biscuits
I begin to eat all of them, one by one

Until my stomach says no more
And I am done

Biscuits are my favorite snack
This is an undeniable fact


Murchison Middle School

8th

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Failure and Success

Failure is the penalty,
4 continually getting things wrong.

Success on the other hand is the award,
4 getting things continually right.

Failure puts u down in despair.
Success sends u soaring among the clouds.

Therefore, I look at myself and wonder,
am I a success or a failure
Then maybe I am a bit of both.
Whichever way the hammer falls
only u can decide.


Murchison Middle School

8th

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Dance

Ballet, Contemporary, Jazz and more
many types of dance out on the floor

Listen to the music and the rhythm
Let your body move and sway

Feel the music, Feel the rhythm
Let your heart dance away

It’s a way to express
It’s a way to entertain

But it’s also a way to let go,
just like dancing in the rain


Murchison Middle School

8th

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Ode to My Room

Ode to my room
I lay on my bed
Like a lion on its throne
With my laptop on one side
Watching the Fosters on Netflix
When my laptop dies
I just turn on the TV
When I get up The floor is ice cold
I slip on my slides
Lights all around my room
Bright and colorful
Especially at night
The place I sleep
But don’t eat in
I keep it clean
Very clean
The place I play in
The place where friends play in
Ode to my room


Keeling Middle School

7th

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Ode to My Street

Old houses.
Old people.
Everyone has their own space,
Everyone can see the church steeple.
No kids my age,
They’re on the next street.
Walk outside to smell dandelions.
There’s nothing as sweet.
Blue, green, wood, brick,
Two-story, split-level,
Each house with their own personality.
Neat manicured lawns,
And lawns sprinkled with leaves, and tall grasses.
New shiny mailboxes filled with mail.
Old rusty mailboxes stacked on brick,
And filled with bills.
Not a very busy street.
everyone looks up with surprise,
When they see a bus,
Or the police.
Everyone’s as friendly as a ladybug,
Even to the big old crack up the street.
It’s only us, and our variety of cars.

Only toddlers,
With tricycles to ride on,
But we’re happy.
As happy as could be!
On our quiet, friendly, tranquil street.


Kealing Middle School

7th

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