My Scrawny Nightmare

My dear love is scrawny and a nightmare,
Glowing eyes like knives cutting the darkness,
Appeareth grey shadow with matted hair,
Why she cometh from the trees such a mess?
A lion’s roar quieter than her cries,
Begone meowing feline vagrant pest!
What is this dancing bear before my eyes?
Persistent, unwelcome hobo houseguest.
Yet, her wails pluck my delicate heartstrings,
Caressing my leg with whiskers and love,
Purring motorboat sprung from its moorings,
Precious, fuzzy gift sent from up above,
This unexpected present on my door,
Barbed thorn now beloved forever more.

James Bowie High School


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4:00 a.m. mealtime

A ginger snap.

It’s stale,
it falls apart
like sand in your mouth.
You were expecting
a crunch.

The ginger snap looks
like a tea cookie.
When you dip it,
the liquid rolls
off the oil
and you end up
eating it dry, again.

By the time they are all gone,
the cinnamon numbs
your tongue
and you have forgotten
what you were eating.

Bowie High School


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Ode to the Night 3/5 (1)

Many fear you, but I find comfort in your dark endless feel

To be alone with your mind at such an hour can help

Your thoughts organize themselves into good and bad.

It’s just me, myself, and I in a room I know all too well.

No one comes knocking with dishes that need doing

Or with animals that need walks or clothes that need folding.

From 11 to 6 there is this silent peace is the world that

No one pays attention to-those hours due to the sleep

We all succumb to due to the day’s work mere hours earlier.

In those hours society expects nothing from you.

Those are the few hours you are truly free to do what you wish.

You hold more secrets than the universe holds stars:

Secrets between lovers, and conversations with friends

That will never see the light of day.

I can thank you for the open door to creative works that come

From the loneliness you bring.

People say they change when you come, but I think they feel more free when the sun goes down and

You lift the pressure of daily expectations,

You offer a sort of freedom when the city sleeps and

Only few dare to wander the streets

In fear of those who don’t.

You are the lonely person’s love

And the couple’s cover.

People use your acceptance to hide what they do

From the accusing light of day.

So many compliment your beauty

But don’t stay awake to truly admire you.

Then the sun rises and those who slept

Wake to the sun’s warm embrace and

Those who didn’t excitedly await

Your next arrival.


Anderson HS


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Light (And Not) 5/5 (1)

I look up and I see a trail, singing with the sounds of stubborn birds,
an illuminated beam of sunlight falling on the trees.
A scratching carpet of leaves form below, asleep for winter.
Colors materialize all around, warm amber and cool gold.
There is life everywhere, in all arrangements and stages.
We sense moving, an oscillating rhythm, a non-threatening ritual.
It is indeed radiant, blossoming and luminous;
In truth, it seems almost perfect

And yet, I am aware of something else here too.
We are aware that where there is light there must also be shadow.
Still nothing, no matter how beautiful, can evade that truth.
In this swirling world of intricacies hides a villainous adversary:
It is something looming, waiting in shadow.
Concrete and wires creep up out of the foliage, out of the life.
And we still mourn for the words, never heard,
Swallowed in this oblivion

McCallum Highschool


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