Walk Poem
What hides beneath a beard?
What clings to it?
Is it there for adornment, or is there another reason
Does it mask stinky breath?
Do crumbs hang fro the kinky gray hairs?
Is there a piece of fruit, flakes of dry skin or mucus hiding in it?
He could hide a gun in that sucker!
Renee Pepin
The walk.
As I walk somehow I've gotten sand in my shoe
It grinds into the heal of my foot with every step
Will it give me blisters?
Will it tear my socks?
I've got to get it out
but I'm too lazy to stop
I return to the trailer and sit down
Damn! I loved those socks!
Shauna Mulligan
As I walk with the class,
through my sandals my feet are moistened
courtesy of the fresh early morning dew.
The reflection of the sun of the grass
temporarily blinds me and causes me to squint.
The smell of freshly cut grass and the sound of chirping birds
solicits a response from my friend Justin.
I feel the sand move under my feet
as we walk up the path back to the trailers.
Josh Holt
Nature’s Way
As the bright rays of light shine down
The trees bend and sway in the slight gusts of wind
Yet although bright, patches of dark and shady areas still exist
There are screams of nature all around no matter where you turn
You look up to the sky,
trying to catch a glimpse of a source of these screams
The only feathers you see in the faded blue sky are clouds
A bird flutters by you and lands in the yellow speckled grass
It blends with the tangled pile of shrubs behind it
It watches you with a careful eye
Ready to take off if the slightest move from you is made
You take a step to get closer and it’s gone
Continuing in its path in the sky
As you watch it descend on its destination for the day
It disappears into the shadows
Gracefully and freely into the unknown
Tiffany Provencher
May 26, 1999
Nature Is Fancy
Baby blue silk of the finest weave.
Green velvet carpet with random yellow spots.
A sparkling chandelier of diamonds and crystals.
An orchestra plays softly in a corner.
Each note and tone in perfect tune.
The soft tinkles of delicate percussion and strings.
Ladies, willowy and tall.
Adorned in lacy gowns of the most luxurious if leaves.
Dancing slowly to the whistles that know no tempo.
Gentlemen, majestic and proud.
Their bows neat in rows.
Leaning into each other in whispering conversation.
Nature is fancy.
Lisa Sewell
May 26, 1999
Senses
The suns rays warmed my body
as the wind whirled around me.
The newly hatched butterfly flitters
in the freshly cut grass.
I hear crows cawing in the sky,
and the sound of a lawn mower idling.
The gentle breeze allows me to
smell the crisp warm air.
The day seems to be so relaxing,
and than reality hits its time to go to work.
Jessica Stark
They Came
Dead dandelions float in the wind
“CAGED
Infinite track to nowhere
Fearless safari leader
All lined up,
And at attention
Incoming messages
*beep beep*,
From other worlds
Loud noise, interference
Where they landed. . .
They shall return
They tickle;
And I shudder at their touch
They came.
Susannah
& Baycah
May 23, 1998
I see the black round trash can
I see the big trash pile neatly arranged in and around the can
They sit and wait on the corner for something or someone to pick it up
The trash is like a single rose blowing in the wind stepped on, run over and rained on
it still sits there for something or someone to pick it.
Night after night it sits and never moves until someone drives by
and picks it up.
Amy Devoid
Walking, enjoying the nice weather.
Listening, sounds around you
feet dragging,
laughter and talking.
Smelling, fresh air,
school lunch cooking.
Squinting, to see which direction your headed.
Blinded by the bright sunshine
beaming off the car windows.
Walking towards the brilliant light
feeling clueless.
Then it hits you
like an apple falling from a tree.
No more bright light blinding you.
All you see now is a fields,
green grass and dandy lions.
Desneige Messier
The Feeling of Peace
The wind blows making
The water move slightly
Like a shiver across the pond
Starting on the far side
And coming towards me
As the clouds on the horizon often do.
The wind blows again
And my hair falls across my eyes
For a moment there is
Nothing but darkness
I hear the sound of the chickadee
“chick-a-dee-dee-dee”
“chick-a-dee-dee”.
And the wind picks up once more
This time the trees bend
Like the leaves of a palm tree do naturally
I hear the leaves
Rustle on the spindly branches
A feathery white ball
Floats past my eyes
And another lands on my pants
While still another floats down
To be at rest on my sleeve
The dandelions are spreading
Their seed on the warm breeze
Finally I feel at peace
Then I hear a voice
Calling me “Come join the rest of the class”
And I realize that I’ll have to wait
To find that peace again.
Erin Warren
Oriole
Standing in the field in the cold wind,
suddenly hearing a wonderful voice singing,
thinking of another creature,
complaining about the cold day,
or maybe communicating with us.
I’m wondering where the bird is,
looking up trees, scanning the branches
- unsuccessful from our point of view,
birds are sitting high in the tree,
probably watching us from their home,
talking to us with their beautiful voice,
we just can’t understand them -
their language to communicate.
I’m almost giving up to find it,
can’t think of any bird singing like this,
but I’m not the only one observing it ,
he is also looking for it,
finally recognizing the voice
- the voice of the oriole
Anna-Lena
Sight, Hear, Taste, Touch, and Smell
Laying
on the scrubbed of fields
wildlife surrounding me
trees swaying
I hear the sounds
“tweet” that makes my heart rise.
I see a plane up high
mixing the blue and white
I feel the cool air
the sun burning my skin.
I smell poisonous dandelions
a disease to this field.
I taste the freshly cut grass.
Pinesol
Courtney Warburton
The Dancers
Dandelions dance in the wind
Blowing left and right
Then pausing to look up at the sun
Only to start to dance in the wind again
High in the sky
Dandelion seeds dance
Blowing all around
In search of the perfect spot
Way up above
The seeds dance their way down
Never pausing to catch their breath
Until they land somewhere on the ground
The ground and sky are filled
With the dancers of the moment
This weekend at the prom is our time
To dance like no one is watching
Sandy Hadwen