Category Archives: Student Writing


by Gabrielle Hill

I wish to tell the tale of Roland

A man washed away with the sand

But without a reasonable doubt

He’s the one I want to talk about


He lives in 1918

For that time he’s awful clean

I don’t know why I thought this theme

But he was only in my dream


I think I like this man

I like a male pale, without a tan

I wish I knew where he was

I wish I knew what he does


For I only remember his face

And his voice

If only I had a choice


Where are you Roland?

Are you still here?

Are you the guy that God had planned?

Or is it only as I fear?


Maybe you’re in 2018

Still the man, nice and clean

Maybe it was a 100 years cause’ I’m old-fashioned

But if you’re not here I’ll be dispassioned


Maybe you’re just in my dreams

And life is just as it seems

Maybe you’re just with the sunbeams

And in the sand, washed by the streams



by Mark S.

When sea is clear, and victory’s near,
I hear the ocean’s moan.
I then jump high, and then I cry,
“Turn back, turn back, I say!”
I watch the beast, as it feasts,
On the unfortunate souls.
Our sailors gone, and victory’s lost,
“Turn back, turn back, I say!”
The coast is clear, yet death is near,
Stranded on an island we are.
No road to walk, no ship to sail,
“Turn back, turn back, I say!”
We make our way, through the woods,
‘Til soon we find a gorge.
A ship there sits, and treasures gleam,
“Turn back, turn back, I say!”
The men surge forth, and are claimed by Death,
The captain distraught cries out.
We wander some more, and worried I cry,
“Turn back, turn back, I say!”
A pit we find, and angry the men are,
So throw me into a pit they do.
Anguished I sigh, and try to climb high,
“Turn back, turn back, I say!”
Nothing I hear, for they don’t draw near,
Abandoned I find myself lying.
No food to eat, no water to drink,
“Turn back, turn back, I say!”

No problems we’d face, if listened had they,
For I warned them at the sea.
Once more I cry, in hopes resolute,
“Come back, come back, I say!”


by Grace T.

She is like the evergreen,

Never obsolete

Always that lovely shade of green

She grows even in a drought

Even when the rain pours out

She’s never a fickle friend,

Her growth has no end

She learns as she flourishes

Even when she doesn’t stand victorious

She’s Something to behold

Like a story never told

There’s beauty in being,

Experiencing and learning

Yet, she’s never fleeing memory

Of who she was

She’s only who she will be

The girl who is like the evergreen

In Color There is Life

by Eshanie W. 

Sweet, lovely lavender

Smoother than silk

Flows slowly as its presence sparks pleasant curiosity

Deliciously tart, yet so sinfully sweet


One of few strings of rope that holds the rocky bridge between us


A smoke so potent, so sweet

So wispy it slips effortlessly through your fingertips

Swirls of darkness move so fast

Yet stand still all the same

A bitterness that’s too much so,

You start to choke only for the small,

Subtle sweetness to suddenly seep through

A truly contradicting feeling

Intimidating, yet comforting

I’ve found both fear and consolation in the darkness


Sweeter than roses,

Softer than cotton

Makes even the darkest colors bright

Wonderfully luscious

Fittingly feminine, perfectly masculine

A sign of extreme strength and bravery


A refreshing breath of air

Gentle, yet rough

Calm rocking, then angry crashing


An indescribable calm, unending sadness,

A blue suit I’ll never see again


Warm cinnamon

A warm, sometimes scorching hot fire


Sweet, spicy, bittersweet

Burning passion, hot, furious anger

A red book tells a million stories


A forest so light yet so heavy at the same time

Rough around the edges, lush as you sink into it

Freshly sharp

Beautiful peace, ugly jealousy

A beautiful tree, reborn until the end of time


Savory spices

Strong yet pliable

A light so bright, no trace of darkness can be found,

At least for the moment

Smoother, sweeter than honey

The kind of happiness,

True happiness,

That makes you grateful for living

An Epiphany

You wore the prettiest smile that day

It was one of the few times

I saw you truly, unabashedly happy


So subtle, it’s almost nonexistent


Stereotyped as plain,

Though far, far from it

A rare, soul-changing sweetness,

It brings you to tears

An innocence, a purity so strong

It makes you dream of growing

Into a being of graceful serenity

I long to see you in that heavenly plane


To live in a world without color

Would be devastating



Selfish or Selfless by Alyssa H

Being selfish and self-centered, while in this world don’t seem to be, are two different things. It’s good to be selfish, to care about protecting yourself and want things for you. Being self-centered is blocking out everyone else because you only care about you. Two different things, trust me. I may not know a lot, but I know this, you are selfish and selfless, selfishly trying to save yourself, and selflessly trying to save others.


Every person has their downfall, their own tick that makes them seem so undeniably selfish that no one would ever think that they’d give up everything they had created for someone else. But people are fake, heartbreaking creatures, that try to put off any type of learning until it’s shoved in their face. People don’t care to know what the truth is, what they want to know is what you’re doing wrong so they can shove it in your face. They don’t want an apology, they want you begging on your knees for you to forgive them for the rest of their lives while they turn up their noses and ignore you. And just like them, I can say I want to be a billion different things, but what I say is not proof, but my actions are. I forgive people even though they crush my spirit, I love people even though they do unlovable things. I believe in people who have been so beaten down by life there’s no way for them to get back up. I try to be strong, and I feel like I’ve accomplished at least the trying part,  because I know most of the time I’m not, and I won’t be fake and say that I am.


But I am selfish, I am selfish because I want to be loved, I want to be cared for and needed and adored; even if I actually don’t think I deserve it. I’m selfish because I want to get in the shower before my brother (he will take all of the hot water). I’m selfish because, yes, it was me who ate the last cookie (you shouldn’t have left it out). I’m selfish because my heart has been hurt a thousand times before and it’s been wrung so dry that I don’t feel like it can be fixed, but I’m trying. I’m being selfish and I’m trying.


I am also selfless. I give myself up for people, I love them when they don’t deserve it. I’m selfless because I give people things they ask for, without thinking twice about myself. I’m selfless because I get up every morning and take care of a child that’s not mine, (she’s not even my sister), but I act like she is, because that’s what I have to do. I’m selfless because I take care of people who have turned their backs on me, but then needed to come back because they needed my help.


I am both selfish and selfless, no, I have not found the perfect balance. And no, I am not good at it either. I’m either too selfish or too selfless, and either way around someone ends up getting hurt. Usually it’s me, because I just love too easily. But at this point it doesn’t matter who gets hurt, it just matters that it happens and that it shouldn’t. I shouldn’t push and shove and try to win, because I want to spite someone (definitely still my brother), but sometimes I can’t help it (he’s extremely annoying). Sometimes I can’t help but want to win and beat people, but other times I can, and I wish I could be like that all the time, but I, just like everyone else, am not perfect.


I hope you realize, it’s okay to be selfish, and it’s okay to be selfless. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different.

Dear Diary by Sarah B

June 15, 2053

Dear Diary,

The speakers are announcing that all opposers and traitors will be terminated again. They threaten that so much, but they still have trouble catching any of us. That doesn’t mean I’ve never seen it happen; I’ve seen tons of good people meet their death because of Them. But they’ll never get their hands on me, that’s for sure.


It’s my tenth day in this hideout. It’s loud, the people here  are restless. They’re impulsive and angry. I don’t trust lots of them, but I think it’s just the stress getting to them. Papa always said that not everyone was built for this lifestyle and I guess that’s true. It may not be good here, but I’m safe and well fed, which is a good change.


It’s dirty here as it is anywhere. There’s no warm water. What I wouldn’t do for a hot shower right now!  It’s like all this ash has permanently settled onto my skin. The whole world is dirty though. I don’t think there’s even such a thing as beauty anymore. It’s just ash and destruction.  It’s brutal out there, when you’re away from any safe place of sanctuary. It’s like They’re just trying to kill us all off. They’re creating all these wars and dragging us normal people into them, even though we had nothing to do with whatever political drama they created. The only thing we were ever concerned with was getting by and now we’re living in shelters and hiding from soldiers, getting our news through tall speakers that announce how They’re going to crush anyone who opposes them.


But I’m good right now. Safe, at least. I’ve talked to a few people. Like I said, the people here aren’t very trustworthy, but it’s still human company. It’s good to hear someone else’s voice after so long, even if they’re yelling or mumbling about something weird. However, there a girl here who is interesting. She doesn’t look like the rest of us, so I think she’s from somewhere else. She’s quiet and doesn’t eat much. She always declines anything offered to her. She doesn’t even use a blanket at night. She’s very fascinating to watch. We haven’t spoken yet, but I’m a good observer. I can tell a lot about people just from the way the act. She reminds me of friends that I’ve lost. I think she’s a good kid, but I know better than to try to make friends.


The most important thing is that I’m safe right now. After a few weeks of staying here, I’ll have to hit the road again. I’m going to keep going north, in hopes that I’ll find Noah. That’s where he said he was going and he always kept his word. I don’t really want to leave shelter and safety and stability, but resources may start to run low soon. And when resources run low in a crowded place, people begin to turn on each other. I know that I shouldn’t try to pick up extra people and that making traveling companions isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing, but there are some people here that I would actually consider bringing with me. They would have a better chance of surviving out in the open than in this place.


I think things are calming down. I don’t think I’d ever say that. The speakers go off less, the alarms barely ring. Maybe it’s just where I am, but I’m hoping it’s the entire world. The sooner all of this is over, the sooner we can work on rebuilding the world. I think that should be the top priority when this blows over. It rained the other day, which was so unusual. People went outside and kids laughed and ran around. I think that was like a sign that we were being forgiven for all the wrongs we’ve done. It gave me hope.


I’ve been gathering and saving things in my bag again, little bits of food wrapped up in cloth and supplies that I find lying around, unclaimed. It’s going to help on my journey when I finally gather enough strength to leave. My leg is healing really well, but it’s still sore. If it weren’t for my leg, I would have been out of here days ago. The idea that people could be waiting for me with Noah is thrilling and suspenseful. Even though I do like it when I find a shelter willing to take me in, I still long to leave and find the place and people I’m really looking for.


It’s about to be lights out time (it’s always at exactly 9:00). The people in charge here will be coming by after a while to make sure all the lights are out, a way to preserve what energy is left. They check and make sure that everyone is comfortable. The people who don’t have pillows or blankets get some. It’s nice. But we also have to be very quiet after lights out. I like that though. It’s calming, especially compared to how noisy and hectictic it usually is.


Until next time,


To Wish For One Thing by Shalymar P

I look up at those stars above,

Farther than the sky can touch,

There is place where dreams are weaved,

I want my dream to come true,

I know life will leave me,

I know loved ones will be lost,

But I don’t know if my dream will come to life, And live forever, To wish for one thing, And one thing only, What would it be?

I don’t want to give up my faith,

And lose my grasp on my dream,

A dream bound to leave,

A footprint in the sand so deep,

The ocean may not wash it away,

To wish for one thing,

And one thing only,

What would it be?

I want my dream to burn,

To burn so bright that it cannot be ignored, A dream the shadows can’t take, A dream that will stay with the rising sun, A dream the stars will embrace, Oh please let it be, To wish for one thing, And one thing only, What would it be?

Don’t let the rough fingers of the world Toss my dream around, I can’t let it drown for their fun, Let my dream be, Let my dream come true, To wish for one thing, And one thing only, What would it be?

As I watch the sun set with the gold,

As I watch the day leave,

Don’t let my dream fade,

I want to keep it locked in my heart,

Until it’s time to come true,

I want it to be an unforgettable glow of the sky, I don’t want it to be forgotten, To wish for one thing, And one thing only, What would it be?

I wish my dream to come true.

Fading Softly by Shalymar P

A sunset has come by,

Washing the land with gold,

Beauty spreading His fingertips,

And touching up the soreness

of conflicts the day has left behind,

then it fades slowly,

like the sun I’m fading softly,

blending with the background I am,

letting time slip from my fingers,

letting it flash by me,

leaving my presence it is,

every second I lose another bit of life, another breath sighed, another beat of my heart passing  me, I’m fading softly, I am losing reality, Death slowly walks, Walking toward me without a rush, Its footsteps becoming more pronounce With every passing year, I’m letting time flash by me, I’m in a hurry, Enveloped in business, I gaze at those stars above, Every minute they twinkle, Shining they do, Every minute they come closer With the time their light will leave, I’m fading softly, I wish to grow old, And enjoy a life of fulfillment, But what am I supposed to do?

How am I to fulfil my life,

If I don’t know my purpose?

Destiny such an otherworldly subject,

It’s all planned for me in golden script, But what is it?

I can’t fathom what it may be,

I want to know before I go,

I am fading softly,

Watch how the ocean comes in curling waves, Leaving with life, I’m trying to push back, But I’m being pulled forward by the endearing future, As the moon does to the sea, What am I to do?

I’m fading softly,

The world runs by so fast,

Not enough it feels,

We always dream to grasp on life forever, But it will leave our clasp, A day I may fear, But I’ll live again, As human I was meant for eternity, I’m fading softly, Fate, oh please, fate, Come by now, Let me hold you in my palm, before I go, I don’t want to fade and not know, Clothed in silver and gold you are, I’m fading softly, Show yourself, I need to see what I am to do, I want to know my life purpose, The moon and stars won’t show me, The voice of thoughts won’t whisper who I am, I need my destiny, My life can’t be empty, I don’t like chance, Please give me my fate, The sun and the world has theirs, Life is dripping from me, I am fading softly, But I wish to have my fate first, Oh please, oh please, I’m fading softly.

Poem #26 by Bridget B

Life’s a mess. A forward spiraling staircase.

In this home that once felt good, now I only hate this place.

All alone in a room; its my head thats trapped me…but It’s dark and unsettling.

Nobody knows, what she is going through.

But let’s give her an interview and screw the review because all they see is a messed up kid.

They couldn’t last a day in her shoes.

Abusive emotions are her muse.

She paints poetry with her own tears and the crowd loves it and cheers.

The children inspired march in the streets singing songs of their own defeat.

And the tv crew sees their generation as a poetic notion.

But they go home and tell their babies not to cry.

Exemplify it, don’t deny it. You hate having to deal with someone who is affected by it.

Stigma and stereotyping hasn’t helped their tear wiping.

Poem #25 by Bridget B

She was wearing a black dress.

He was crying in distress.

All they wanted was someone to caress.


Depression and pain had taken him away while she was mourning the world’s dismay.

Fate decided the puzzle pieces fit together and she introduced herself as Heather.

He looked into her eyes and saw himselfi

Wishing he could put his life on a shelf.

But instead everything was new

And his love would be  a breakthrough.


Her heart was broken by exterior words.

Misunderstood, she lost bird singing a broken song to a broken mirror pleading “Please let my emotions be clearer.”

He was told at a young age you’ll never be normal, instead he kept to his morals.

He lived his life in sadness; there was nothing he could do, but then God said “let her see you.”

Depression ruled them but the reign is over.

They worshipped the king and gave them a life luckier than a four leaf clover.