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Balloons

This is an original piece that I wrote. Dreams has been a huge theme for me this year. Hope you enjoy!

Balloons

Dreams are balloons.

The bigger they are,

the higher they take you. You can watch as your feet lift off the ground.

Soon you are so far above everyone

you can see everything, every possibility.

You hold tight to that string, it’s what tethers you to the balloon.

You hold on with everything you have.

You fight against strong gusts that steer you off course.

You fight the rocks thrown at you,

meant to bring you back down to the earth.

And you watch the world go by from up there.

You go higher and higher, you just keep going.

Nothing can stop you; nothing can stop your balloon.

But something does. Your balloon pops.

You fall, so, so far. You fall through the clouds  you had once touched  

the gentle breeze that drifted past does not aid you as you

plummet through the air.

As you make your descent to the ground, to the end, you can’t help but think that it was worth it.

It was worth the pain that will come.

Because the view had been so beautiful from up there.

Put it down

Some people don't know when to quit. I know when. I have the ability to put a book down when I don't like it. I don't have the burning desire to know how it ends. If the book doesn't interest me from the beginning, I am not going to suffer through it to the end. There are so many other books to be reading, why would I waste my time on a book that I don't like? This ability tends to appall fellow avid readers. I love to read, I only want to read books I love in my free time. As Anton Ego says in Ratatouille, "I don't like food; I LOVE it. If I don't love it, I don't swallow". That's how I feel about books. If I don't love it I don't finish it.

Poetry Contest

In early March I competed in a poetry competition for my AP Literature class. Each day we were given a poetry form and 24 hours to turn in an original poem that fit that form. Students in AP Lit. would then score all the poems based on whatever they wanted. Three other girls and I were the team, (Pro)se at Poetry. We held our spot in second place for the majority of the contest, but the last poem we wrote allowed us to pull ahead and we WON! This was a unique experience that pushed me in my skills with creativity, writing, and team work. Below are some of the poems we wrote. Credit also goes to Piper, Siulley, and Emily who were all on the team and key components to our success!

Seeking my sole mate

I search, scavenge and plunder

my room is a disaster

one foot warm,

one foot frigid.

my chronic pursuit has begun

where is that sock?

I can’t find it anywhere

the dog must have ate it

or did my mom finally wash it?

Where’s my little sister?

has she made a sock puppet recently?

Ew… did I leave it in my gym bag?

did it meet its tragic demise in the dryer?

I need that sock!

Fine.

I’ll settle with this polka-dotted christmas sock.

Never mind that it’s March.

Mismatched socks are cool, right?

If you’re twelve.

Where is that sock?

Farmer’s Folly

Nature’s bounty is

unrivaled beauty

babbling brooks and rolling plains

The summer breeze fills my lungs

with the putrid smell of dung

The shining sun

graces my skin, beaming

its beautiful rays of light

salty sweat drips in my eyes

and is licked up by flies

I pluck an apple from a branch

its sweet nectar

filling me with joy

the sun harshly beats my brow

as I chase after a cow

I watched life begin

with a mare and her new calf-

miracle of Earth

If I don’t get off this farm

I may cause someone great harm

How to Find the Derivative of Zzzzzz

Here in math class with a loud crack!

the sleeping student’s head snaps back

he uses his hand to wipe up the drool

as he remembers he is still in school

with that the teacher gets back on track

and she continues, yakety yak

he mutters, “lady, cut me some slack”

while she thinks ”this kid is a tool”

here in math class

he takes a piece of gum from his backpack

and pops it in his mouth, smack, smack!

she turns around to say “you know the rule,”

and gives him a smile that is cruel

then she winds up for a final THWHACK!

here in math class

 White (Chocolate Mocha) Privilege

I want a 4 shot skinny venti decaf white chocolate mocha frappuccino, 1 pump of hazelnut, ½ a pump of low fat caramel, but not the sugar free kind, white chocolate shavings, six of them, instagram-worthy whipped cream swirl, double sleeve.

and it’s Carly

with a K and an I, and

I reached Gold Star member status

and I know I have a free drink available, so check that, would you?

Ars Poetica

Ours Poetic? (Uh…)

Since the beginning of time

poetry required deep elaborate rhyme.

Well?

How am I supposed to find something to rhyme with purple?

Nurple? Gross. Slurple? Not a word.

It’s digging deeper with every word,

except there’s nothing poetic about a hole.

Or is there? I’ll just keep digging.

Clap out the syllables

and count them on fingers while everyone stares at you.

I dare you.

No matter what I do I cannot fit the word I want in the meter.

every syllable counts. Literally.

I squeeze and squinch and

give up.

Poetry….well, dig in.

We are all stories

I have always loved stories. My mom read to me when I was little and I could sit for hours listening. When she finished one, I went and got another, and another, and another. I love listening to stories, watching stories, telling stories, and performing stories. I love all stories, books, movies, tv, plays, dumb stories, wise takes, and fairy tales. There is something truly special about being a part of a story. You are no longer sitting in your seat, but have entered a different time period, country, or world! You are no longer yourself, but a character, or simply an observer in a tale. No matter what, in a good story you leave behind yourself and your reality. There is something so magical and freeing about that. I could sit in a crowded, noisy room but be solely focused on the book I'm reading. I could have a thousand things I need to be doing, but this tv show has me hooked and I can't stop watching. Stories are a way to share experiences, emotions, wisdom, and a different view of the world. There are no completely new stories, they all stem from one great story that started at the beginning of time. I like to think that the first story was when life began, when the first humans came to be. Stories start with life, and lives are stories. So in a way, we are all stories. And I hope to experience as much life, and stories as possible.