Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member

Members

Poems

JR Rhine May 2018
There is a bullet in a box of crayons with really strange names like Parkland Perrywinkle, Sandy Hook Sanguine, and Great Mills Green in a place where children play Russian Roulette with their school supplies when they reach in to grab one and they’ve been learning about probability this week Forrest Gump will tell them you never know if you’re going to finish the lesson or turn into a statistic my sister likes to create mosaics by putting a hairdryer to crayons melting cascades of wax down a blank page sometimes she reaches in and it’s the one lead crayon at the top of the page and it’s only one color that seeps down into the crevices of the cafeteria’s tile floor that proceeds to wash away the Proud Honor Roll Parent stickers washes away the Proud Honor Roll Parent stickers I see another child reach into the box and I write another word problem I write another word problem: “Zoey reaches into a box of crayons. What is the likelihood she will not get to hang her drawing up on her kitchen refrigerator? What is the likelihood her funeral photo will hang there instead?” Draw students’ attention to the key word “likelihood.” Tell students This word shows that the question is asking whether or not you will live to tell your parents how your day at school was. and I wonder when school desks will take the shape of caskets in a place where both screams of laughter and screams of terror
are permitted
TRIGGER WARNING: My Fiance and I were just talking last night about how this poem, written at the time of March for our Lives, seemed a little passe. And here we are, another school shooting in Texas. On average, there has been a school shooting every week in 2018. Most kids are worrying about whether shrimp poppers is on the menu this week, whether it's an A or B week. They shouldn't have to worry about getting shot at. Never again.
Dany The Girl  Apr 2019
Untitled
Dany The Girl Apr 2019
It is moments like these
as the sun sets behind the horizon;
be hind the mountains and the clouds
and the city buildings,
that I realized how incredibly luck I am.
I am alive to see the beauty of the pink
orange-yellow and perrywinkle sky.
The way the palm trees cast their shadows
and are silhouetted against the stars.
To be able to make mistakes and learn from them.
Owning up to a mistake is possibly the most mature thing that one can do.
I have made many terrible ones.
And I am owning up to them all.
To right the wrongs,
to better the worse.
I remember when I thought life was simpler
than life truly is.
Sharing cigarettes with Mandie,
walking to Lauber's with Victoria,
sitting on my porch at night and pondering why I am alive.
It was somehow easier than it is right now.
I miss it...