Remember, remember the fifth of November*,
But better, the past works and pieces remember, remember.
Forgot not have we? For “fair is foul and foul is fair”
Then forever, should we hold nearest those a’dear.
A mindless creature holds dearest his food at hand,
A mindless tree holds dearest its leaves, roots, and beloved land.
But a tree can hold forever his dearest leaves not,
For the current greatest will soon be tomorrow’s rot.
So what brews and exhales is but the autumn breeze,
And for what dances by such blesses: the autumn leaves.
Tell me you’ve forgotten not these dancing pests,
To dance and wander upon the skies, they need not rest.
Upon the window outdoors do they dare not dance,
For this distraction yields nothing but a mesmerizing trance.
With such improper dance comes improper lyrics unsung,
Which only sings to those previous works and dreadful puns.
So should we recall the Wallace and lobster and moral facade,
And the mysteries of black holes, the universe, and all that is odd.
And should we recall that “flowing sea of fallen heads,”
And that Hamlet and Othello that you may have also read.

From yesterday’s autumn to today’s now, can we rewind not,
Because since then, has numerous change been sought.
For even the great trees, their dearest lost leaves free a’last
Only to freely dance abandoned in the recent past.

But yet, this autumn has brought one of many treats,
For here in Amherst, Halloween was but a Christmas meet.
A snowstorm unexpectedly covers Amherst in a sheet of white,
Bringing the season of autumn to unexploited greater heights.
So a night in the midst of dark, were we forced to stay,
And a lack of classes announced the tomorrow’s day.
But as the day awoke, upon the ground – splits and shatters of numerous trees,
And aside their graves bore branches and their so-called beloved leaves.
Have we remembered the photos of this dramatic event?
To snow, to snow, and the aftermath’s discontent.
Had they not clung upon the dearest leaves will tis still stand,
So consequentially now, do both fall upon the failed land.
For now can we see that labeled beloved is truly beloved not,
For such trees has their deemed beloved, suffering brought.
For now can we see, to wear a crown so heavy is but a destined fall,
For upon the grounds are these trees split a’two; once wholesomely tall.
But shall some still stand, through the window I see,
A survivor, a survivor! A tree, a tree!
Though branches apart and leaves adieu,  
A month’s time, has this tree stood heavenly true.

And through the course of this semester, my writing a tree,
To grow, to deteriorate, to assimilate neither can be.
For a tree shall stand over its environmental stress,
So will the works and pieces that I dearly express.
For with these works, should the rules bend and stretch,
To house the hopeful, yet bombastic artist sketch.
From autumn ‘til now, has the trees changed greatly,
Although my writing, failed change has failed to see lately.
To be truly honest, my words to the ears may bleed,
But must I say see’st no change in my writing indeed.
And for me to reflect on change that’st occurred not,
For best I reflect on the opportunities that were given allot.
With the rules bent and greatly stretched,
Were the thoughts I mouthed gracefully etched.
Oh, be’st the tree, to stand greatfully proud,
For to have assimilation here is but unallowed.
Call it ignorance or ingratitude, actually it may be,
For dearest pieces and works can change not by he or she.
Call it grandiloquent or effervescent, for the rules bent,
For the treacherous waves of thought can I dare not prevent.
Be it impulse or nature to the second degree,
What be’st is be, and change not it by me.
Be’st the words, a flood, upon the papers it spills,
Maybe they be of value or just numerous frills.

So must I thank you to have one read my unmouthed words,
For my thoughts set free a’last, the skies, the heavenly birds.

Pigtails of plenty,
yellow scrunchies,
and purple plaid.

"You're only you,
I'm pleased as punch,
I'm only glad".

Peter Piper and Betty Botter
picked some peppers
and bought some butter,

Too many rhythms,
too many rhymes,
too much to say,
too little of time.

I hear not to run,
I'm asked what's the rush.
The more that I rush
and the faster I run,
the sooner I'll reach
my great big fun.

Shoe laces bug
big fun
they do.

"They do.

Your speech is peaches
your pace is pie
the space you use
is more than fine".

I try to explain
the colors I play;
going with guidelines
is only a game.
Skipping through gardens
of boxes that make
splendid presents
to open
and fun blocks
to break.

"They're only toys,
you're precisely right".

Meaning is found
in circles on paper,
when pencils make the path.
I see signs in the sky
and in my mind
that for others
seek to hide.
Sometimes it's first fantasy;
another time is reality

If you listen to me,
if you'll hear what I say,
you can learn to see colors,
and can stop seeing grey

"You're sight is unique,
you're special indeed,
but you aren't set apart,
left out,
or alone.

I believe".

The happiness I've found
I can't express.
Clapping
and stomping
and spinning around
aren't enough
to catch
the feelings I've felt.

"Your words aren't just sound,
they're a song to be sung;
felt by each
bringing glasses to sing
one by one,
to echo
to ring".

Every coin has two sides...

Aches that I feel
I can't explain.
Big tears have fallen
that haven't told you pain.
Sharper to chip,
heavier to break,
louder to shake
I wish they were.
They chip, break, and shake
but you can't feel my aches.
I can't explain what's real
when it's only felt inside.

"You don't have to stress about
why you feel what you feel.
There might not be a why
but it's fair and it's real.

I know how hard
it is to live here,
for you to allow,
but it's not forever,
it's only for now".

I promise to slow down
I'll be quieter I swear
I won't reach higher than my height
I won't choose left over right
Believing without sight
is for children not my height
I'll draw squares that are not round
and play games you'll understand
with children on the playground
not alone in this box of sand

"You promise every year to be shy,
to not run,
to not trip,
to not cry big cry's.

This year promise to be you,
to wear plenty of pigtails
with purple plaid
with yellow scrunchies

with some breaths unallowed.
Like the breath that lives
between a sentence
wasting time
if only for an instant.

Jimminy Crickets
and Holy Cow,
I know.

Even though it's hard,
although you're awfully sad,
try to love this special you;
it's the only you to have
and to hold
and to hug
right now.

I'll skip with you
and hold your hand.
I'll hear your words,
the one's unsaid.
I'll sit by you

and be your friend.

you are everything,
you are everyone,
you are every cliche
...you are the sun
you are oxygen,
you are in the trees,
you are orange leaves,
you are cool autumn breeze
that spreads across my spine,
you are forgotten dreams,
you are a glass of wine,
you are what reminds,
you are fine lines,
you are the key,
you are a plus sign,
you are what girls try
to become,
you are the why,
you are the sum,
you are bassdrums,
you are a symphony,
you are the child too naive
to realize that he's on stage,
you are every page,
you are every book,
you are the librarian's glasses,
you are classes,
that i may or may not have took,
you are the stun experienced
when things fall into place,
you are every race,
you are the taste,
of fresh produce,
you are abuse,
escapen,
you are an excuse,
shaken,
you are the noose,
breakin',
you are the clues,
finally taken,
you are a puzzle with pieces
all aligned,
you are dominos lined up
right before they fall,
you are every hall,
you are each phone call,
you are the brick wall
that kids throw tennis ***** against,
you are consequence,
you are every scent,
you are fresh cement,
waiting to be written on,
you are every song,
you are every play,
you are Broadway,
you are the crowds,
you are everything i say,
you are SCREAMING LOUD
in unallowed places,
you are familiar faces,
you are a smile after braces,
you are untied laces,
you are jumping over cracks,
you are warm candle wax,
you are dark moments
lightened by humour,
you are rumours
being shattered,
you are fish,
beer battered,
you are wishes,
when they matter,
you are the everafter,
you are the former,
and the latter,
you are the feet in the swimming pool
of those who cant swim,
you are slim jims,
you are macho man randy savage,
you are a test above average,
you are an ebay feedback rating,
you are ice skating,
on frozen lakes,
you are every birthday cake,
and every candle,
you are frosted milkshakes,
you are socks with sandals,
you are being outside the norm,
you are insightful vandals,
you are anarchy, restrained,
you are villains, reformed,
you are emcees without champagne,
you are Dylan on tour,
you are looking down,
before you let go,
you are a star's glow,
you are a peep show,
you are every mystery,
you are ***-pourri,
you are the guarantees
that are actually kept,
you are the moment
you forget why you wept,
you are the fizzy beverage
that makes one reminisce
or accept,
you are the first kiss,
you are the final step,
you are the trace of the past
that one must chase,
you are realizing that
time's too fast,
to replace,
you are the sun,
shining down into an unseen place,
you are cliches,
you are warmth and grace,
you are everyone,
that has ever graced,
this time and space,
here and above,
you are everything...
...you are love.

it never fails to blow my mind, how two years can change you
it's inevitable, i have come to find, but that doesn't mean that you grew
sometimes change is a negative thing
pushing you backwards, negating progress made
oftentimes even unearthing
aspects of yourself better left decayed
outweighed by the better qualities possessed

in two years, i have become someone of whom i cannot be proud
no matter how desperately i wish to look in the mirror and view myself without self-loathing
circumstances surrounding me and my own brain chemistry result in my being unallowed
to see myself without thinking in terms that are scathing
so i hang a shroud over the mirrors in my house that's not a home
let smoke do the rest of the disguising
and wander through the interior of my mind, a veritable catacomb
looking inward, introspecting, and overall despising
myself on every level for being who and where I am

and somehow the hardest part is recognizing
that i have no one but myself to blame for feeling no one understands
because my demons, they make letting people in agonizing
by constantly reminding me of how well that went for me last time
but if i don't try again and extend that trust
how will i ever know anything but this endless alienation
and i run the risk of letting my emotions rust

so i'll try to lower my walls for you and hope that i don't wind up regretting
this emotional oration
and hopefully the good will wind up offsetting
any consequences of the negative variety
and you won't consider my openness and impropriety
though i know you won't, because you're an expert at expressing
how it is you're feeling and whatever you're thinking
- even if you're not through processing
and i envy
that
about you

I write in flames of love
unallowed.  You who do
not know the pain fly on
Dove's wings

oblivious to the heat,
the colors, the bent
dreams as I reach

For the sight of you.
Fly away.  I will burn
here in the fires of

my hopeless devotion.
I am red with lost
desire.  Fly to the

land, light on the
water, I so long for,

You.

Caroline Shank