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 Dec 2018 Hannah
Em MacKenzie
Happy belated birthday Mom,
I'm sorry it's two days late,
but I've been a bad daughter
and an even worse person.
You always told me not to go to your grave or put flowers on your headstone;
"I won't be under that ground," you'd say,
"and don't waste your money on flowers, I'll have no use for them where I'm going."
I still visit sometimes, and I do still bring flowers, but not nearly enough.
I know if I had been the one buried, you'd wear the grass down with your feet and then have the courtesy to plant some seeds.

Almost eight years later I still think about you everyday
and not a minute goes by where I don't miss you terribly.
What a cruel thing it is, to live a life where you're always missing someone.
To have so many things to say and receive no reply.

You would've been fifty seven this year.
I wonder how you would look as you got older, and sometimes, rarely, I forget what you looked and sounded like when you were here.
That's probably the worst part of it.

The first time I visited your grave was about a month or so after you had been buried,
the graveyard drowning in so much snow I actually visited the wrong headstone.
I'm sure Mr.Brown enjoyed the talk, though.
It was only after digging my bare hands through ten inches of snow and ice that I realized I was four spots down.
I then recognized your grave from the moonlight reflecting off the glass vases of yellow roses we had placed there during your funeral,
wedged in place with the snow hugging them tightly;
the roses frozen in time,
it was both beautiful and aggravating.
Good things funerals cost so much,
they should be able to have someone clean up the plot after the service.
I threw the roses out and gently tried to remove the vases:
the one with "wife" shattered in my hands and my frostbitten fingers picked each shard out from the snow.
I still carry a scar from that vase.
The one with "mother" on it remained in tact, I was just as gentle with it but it did not shatter.
You told me near the end that nothing in this world, nothing was powerful enough to ever have you taken away from me.
That vase sits on my dining room table to this day, nursing a reluctantly dying plant just as you'd want.
I don't think I'll ever have the green thumb like you did.

But I have everything else from you,
you always told me Kate was raised by your sister and that she was too much when you were so young,
"But you, Emily, you're MY daughter."
You said I was a godsend of a baby, never crying, content just to sleep,
and that I carried an old soul.
You laughed at how I always excelled at being alone as a child,
and you were so intrigued by my sense of imagination and creativity.
You always said you were the same when you were a kid.

So tell me, now that I'm older and I feel so alone all the time,
am I still you?
Were you this isolated and alien at my age now?
Did you carry the empathy to cry at little things you saw on the street or in a commercial,
so much so that you believe this world to be lost?
That you saw life as one big slap in the face?

I still try my best everyday to make you proud,
It breaks my heart constantly to think I didn't when you were here.
But life is cruel like that, and I was young and stupid and arrogant.
I know if you see my daily life,
you know I'm not 100% better,
and I know I probably never will be.
But I work hard, and I always say my "please" and "thank you"'s,
and I live by your example of always trying to help anyone in need.
It might not make up for the demons that I struggle with,
but atleast I still fight them, right?
I lost some years there where I should've died, and sometimes I wish I had,
but I didn't. I'm still here. I'm still trying.
And to be honest, it's not for me, or for my family, for love or sunsets, or dogs or any of the things that bring me up to a solid "content."

It's for you, because you taught me that's what you do in life.
You fight. You fight until your last breath.

I've thought this a million times in my head, but I'll say it now,
you were always right about everything.
As teenage girls, we challenge our mothers at every turn and decision,
convinced we are mature and capable of making decisions,
and then we say hurtful things when we don't get our way.
So you deserve to hear it, you were always right.

I wish I could tell you face to face.
I would tell you how much I miss you, more than either of us could've ever predicted.
I would tell you how blessed I feel to have had such an amazing mother.
I would apologize for judging you for the drinking,
I would tell you it took me forever to realize, but eventually I accepted my mother was human just like everyone else,
and just like everyone else, myself included, you made mistakes.
Above all else, I would tell you that I love you more than you'll ever know.

I'll be turning twenty-nine next month,
which means I have one year left of smoking.
I didn't forget my promise to you, I'll quit on my thirtieth birthday.
I'll continue looking out for my sister to the best of my abilities,
even though she can be impulsive and brash on occasion.
I'll continue to show empathy and kindness to as many people as possible, just like you would've wanted.
And finally, one day I hope to keep the promise I made to you so many years ago:
I promise to try and be happy.
Extremely personal write, but needed to get it out. If you're lucky enough to still have a mother, tell her you love her today and thank her for existing.
 Sep 2018 Hannah
Ayin Azores
I can only remember very few liberating moments in my life:

That one time when my dad got mad because I sneaked out of the house to buy candy and when I went back to the house, he was crying. It was the first time that I saw him cry.

That time when I heard Earthmover live for the first time and it was raining hard. I was contemplating about my life, the future with a friend. Asking ourselves what might happen to us in 5 years. That was 2012 and I wish I had it all figured out by then. I was also drunk.

That time when I caught my first wave. I felt free and alive for the first time. I was so stoked, I almost cried as I paddled back to the lineup. Then I pigged out afterwards.

And that time when I went on a date with a stranger. Nothing super fancy, no pressures. A date that lasted for 8 hours. Went to work the next day with literally no shut-eye but my heart was happy.

A few months from now, I am going to marry that guy. Nothing fancy, but there will be a lot of *****, definitely. I’ll be marrying the guy who made me feel the exact same feeling when I caught my first wave, alive. I still haven’t figured everything out, and I guess I’ve accepted the fact that it’s okay.  And how I wish I could see my dad cry when he sees me in my white dress. But that's something that would never happen.
wedding thoughts
 Sep 2018 Hannah
Beaux
If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone.

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.
The state of Florida is now home to the two most deadly mass shootings in American history. Pulse Nightclub was attacked in my city, I have friends who attend Marjory Stoneman Douglas in Parkland. My little sister often fears going to school. I'm afraid to graduate and leave her. I want to be able to protect her if something happens. I hate that we have a reason to be afraid... That it's reasonable to have these fears. I hate it so f*cking much.
 Sep 2018 Hannah
emnabee
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
 Apr 2018 Hannah
CA Smith
Brick
        By
            Brick
A house is built
Hour
        By
            Hour
The house becomes a home
Day
        By
            Day
The home turns into memories
Year
        By
            Year
The memories turn into people
Century
        By
            Century
The people turn into stories
Story
        By
            Story
Stories turn into legends
Legend
        After
            Legend
History is changed
Piece
        By
            Piece
Lives are changed
Person
        By
            Person
Love is spread
One Love
        After
            Another
Bricks are purchased
That build houses
That turn into homes
That create memories
That turn into people
That turn into stories
That turn into legends
That change history
And it all started with
Just. One. Brick.
Sometimes it's tough when you are just laying bricks to see the end picture, but it makes a difference in the end! It can be so easy at times to feel like we aren't doing enough to help others or to grow ourselves, but one ripple affects the entire pond.
 Feb 2018 Hannah
Lunar
have you ever wondered
why   am   i   always
f  a  s  c  i  n  a  t  e  d
with the phenomena
of     a    red and rare
l u n a r   e c l i p s e?

with every time we meet,
i turn red;
but with every time we part,
i don't turn blue.

rare doesn't mean
"once in a lifetime."
it only means that
you'll always return,
no matter how long it takes.

and i believe that
someday
for sure
again:
*i'll see you.
aren't we all fascinated with the things, events, and people which come rare?
it makes us cherish them well.

(j.m.)
 Sep 2017 Hannah
Nat Lipstadt
15th,
the time of the month
when a master card american expresses a visa reminder,
hey your passport gonna get cxld!

don't leave town; you got debts due from living life
to the fullest or the lesser, the black & white soda of
mixed up scrapings and dreaming disney fantasias

7 decades is a whole lot of 15th's
many rent/mortgage notices due,
'postage not included' notices,
(in case you were thinking of cutting a
first class stamp size
corner)

the worst word rent, rents,
and not only on the 15th,
smiling - got to rent me a poem someday,
what is the cost, guessing I'll find out on the 15th next

all the time,
lip limp from weekend to the next Friday,
just just making it through, barely,
month to the month, year to tear, dear and dare
15th to the 15th, teenth to teenth
and what is in betweenth

fully forecast a final call, last call will come on a 15th,
made sure there will be enough left to cover the outstandings,

another outstanding word I love

just enough left to mail me and my ritings,
take care of the responsibles, the non-disposables,
my last months rent, covered, my rep intact,
but no more, no one last yellow taxi ride

  the postage to return me
to my next forwarding address,
and even the cost of this poem,
got it covered





3:23am 8/15/17
 Sep 2017 Hannah
Taylah
One Person
Two Person
White Person
Black Person

Asian Person
Indian Person
Old Person
New Person

This one has no food to eat,
This one has a war to beat.
Say! What a lot of people there are.

Some are dead,
Some have no bed,
Some even have no roof over their head.

But why are they
Separated from each other?
I wouldn’t know,
Go ask another.

Some are thin,
Some are tall,
Some are fat,
And some can even be quite small.

From there to here, from here to there.
Trump wants to create walls,
So, we can’t travel anywhere.

To get water,
Some have to travel,
Barefoot, on sharp gravel.
For miles and miles
They have to travel.



White, Black, White, Black.
White, Black, White, Black.
All distinguished from the colour of their back.

Some have two friends,
Some have one,
Some have ten friends,
Some have none.

Where do we come from?
A long, long way.
From a war place,
Come here to be safe.

We see them come,
We see them go.
Some come legally,
Some come by boat.

Some are tall,
And some are short.
We’re all different,
But we’re all human.
Yet, we’re singled out,
Just because we’re men or women.

Why?!
Is it okay to scream and shout?
Lesbian, Straight, Bi or Gay.
Is it good to call someone out?
Did you think it was okay?

Black, White, Old, New,
Gay, Straight, Man, Woman,
Asian, Indian, American, African,
Don’t you realise we’re all human?

Human!
It’s not a reason to be rude,
Just because I am different to you.
Inspired/ Based off Dr Seuss' One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish.
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