Oak Meadow 2017 Poetry Extravaganza – Part II

Posted on May 3, 2017 by Amanda Witman

Here in the Meadow, we celebrate student poetry throughout the month of April with our annual Poetry Extravaganza. We invited our enrolled students to submit their favorite original poems, and we’ll be sharing some of them here over the next few days. Enjoy!

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Chess
by Benjamin Almquist
Oak Meadow, Grade 9

Photo Credit: Vivian Harder
(Oak Meadow)

Chess
A game of strategy
Where made prodigy
Is calmness and skill
Where thrill
Comes through movement
And Thought
Life
can be a mere
Game of peer-
S with everyone
The worldpawn
Salvation
of the Castle above
Side to side
To bide
Timestress
With death far and few between
For their are only two
Death
When moves are void
No way to avoid
The impending deaththrill
Chess
“I wrote this poem for an experimental poem assignment.”

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If your only emotion was happy
by Katherine Almquist
Oak Meadow Grade 9
They have emotions
I have but one
Restricting
me
Feelings of sadness
I know none
Surprise…. I can not understand
Anger…. Passes through me as a wind through a ghost
feelings of many I know not
Happiness I know only
To me
People of many feelings are emotionless
Unless happiness is sensed
Wenst it is seen on the faces of theirs
This happiness which lights the faces of theirs
Is routine on the face of mine
Free are they
Chained am I

Photo Credit: Doughty Family
(Oak Meadow)

How
Are
Pleasantries
Possessed
In
Nature
(W)enst
Solitude (created by a single emotion)
Surpasses (the rest)?
The answer? I have not.
For only in I lives happiness
Emotions, I do not have
“I was inspired to write this poem for a Oak Meadow literature assignment. I was required to write an experimental poem and I decided on a topic that I had written about in an essay before, but made it more professional and put the concept into a poem.”

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Bunk Bed
by William Aldredge
Oak Meadow, Grade 9
High in my perch,
I gaze upon a room,
Like a monkey in a tree,
But i do not utter a sound.
For a cat has entered the room,
And like a jaguar,
It will climb up here,
And take me away,
To a world of solitude,
An icy moon,
Somewhere far off in the universe,
And then i fall asleep.
My dreams take me even further,
To a new place,
Dusty and red,
At first it seems abandoned,
Then a lone robot comes,
And sends my picture to the space people,
When the skygate opens,
And i am sucked away,
Back to the bunkbed of dreams,
Except it is a jungle,
And there is a jaguar,
And the jaguar jumps up,
And asks me,
“Are you ready?”
But then i awaken,
To a persian cat licking my face,
But it is not an awakening from the dream,
Merely an awakening to another dream,
Angels surround my bed,
And carry me off to the clouds,
Where i lay down to sleep.
But then i awaken,
To a cat licking my face,
I think it is a dream,
But no,
The cat is there,
I feel its hot breath,
So i let it be,
And it stops licking me,
But then,
Something strange happens,
It says to me,
“Come, you are not dreaming”,
So i go with it,
Off to an eternity of wonder,
But then the eternity ends,
With 42 bees,
Who sting me back to reality,
And now i am,
On a small green planet,
With a hole at the poles,
And i look inside,
To see a lamp,
It is a lampshade,
I realise,
With nobody but me,
31G-350125 is here,
And he shoves me into the planet,
I expect heat,
And receive a hard thump,
on the lamp,
So i call for the cat,
And arrives mystery,
Who takes me away,
back to the bunkbed,
And stays a while,
But then leaves,
Here comes the cat,
Who licks me to sleep,
I awaken once again,
To the cat licking my face,
I sit up and look at him,
“Your secret is safe with me”
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Paper Revolution
by Claire Kern
Oak Meadow, Grade 9
I twist the cap of my pen
between my teeth, ink
stains on molars, the page
still blank, void of words,
still lacking the power,
still failing to affect change.

Photo Credit: Shirley Tanzella
(Oak Meadow)

Wanting, wanting, wanting to affect change,
Trying to force revolution out of my pen.
Building weapons to battle the power
hungry war-machine, but my ink
spills over to form broken words,
broken images on the page.
Frustrated, I rip the page
into pieces, that’s my change.
I reach for a new sheet, that new words
might follow. Afraid my pen
cannot erase the ink
of others, the permanent stench of the power.
Lead boot prints of power
tear holes in my page,
black and blue ink
bruises beat me, no change
they scream, breaking pens
and banning new voices, new words.
The banished words
hold all the power,
and the gunpowder pen
burns my palm and page,
demanding I write the call for change
demanding I carve new voices in fresh ink.
Progress is marked by ink
lines drawn in blood, battle words
and wounds whose mouths cry change.
Bury the patriarchy, power
drunk bastards with blood pages,
scar their rank flesh with my pen.
Ink tears bleed power,
and I craft words on torn pages,
changing, changing, changing the world
with my pen…

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