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hannah May 9
I use to sit on my couch watching Dance moms and desire the way their feet would move.
I always wished I would open up and ask my mom, but I wasn’t brave.
Finally when I was older I asked, little did I know she would disapprove.
I would keep asking and then finally my junior year she approved.
I went to one of the classes for hip-hop and had to try my best and prove.
I couldn’t help but realize how much I loved the way my feet groove
I am so glad my mom didn’t try to make that thought get removed!
This is just a fun little poem I wrote about my experience joining hip-hop<3
Jabin Aug 2018
Painted a masterpiece
In my dreams:
A Chilean villa.
Cactus streams.
A flower composed,
Wilted with time
With muted colors,
Tequila with lime.
Fields of desert
With tuxtla soaring.
Winding paths of
Wood and brick flooring.
A cool wind blows
Through the heat
Over sweaty brows
And sandaled feet.
A moment trapped
That’s never been.
A life of others
Never seen.
Put away my brushes,
Stood back to admire
The deep ocean sky,
The burnt orange fire.
It lay on the table,
Alive on the canvas
When waking did cause
My hard work to vanish.
In memory only
And never shown
Forever discarded
Once beautifully known.
My studio of mind
So often produces
A wonderful concept
With no practical uses.
I’d like to live there
And run those streets,
Take shade under awnings
Sampling savory meats.
But I’ll never go there,
Never see that place.
Never plant in soil
That’s been erased.
That marvelous day
Conceived at night
Keeps the dreaming
Forever alight.
Julie Grenness Jan 2017
Malnutrition does not live here,
It's not emaciation villa, my dears,
Yes, it's  'cellulite is us',
We got fat, no need to fuss,
Life in emaciation villa, my dears,
Malnutrition so does not live here.....
Feedback welcome. Bit of a giggle.
Arturo Hernandez Dec 2015
Carrizo, lamina,
Cemento, y varilla.
Mi casa
Su casa
Sus casas.
Te busco
Te deseo
Y no te encuentro.
y Recuerdos
Es donde te tengo.
Habla y dime,
Como esta
Mi pueblo.
Villa de Etla,

— The End —