By Sophie Taylor
This month I have realized
People have beautiful ideas
And eloquent ways of putting them
To paper.
To tell a story through stanzas
Of a world that doesn’t exist.
I look to my poems and see only
My world
And a list
Of rants with no particular purpose
Other than to entertain and
Release my inner confrontations.
I wish to work on my
Poetry.
To express my thoughts
More powerfully.
To experiment with
Emotion.
To open a world that’s never been seen.
I need to stop comparing,
It follows me in everything I do.
Some people use elegant language
I simply need to get a point across
To you.
The rhythms and beats of poetry sing
Across lines of hope and lines of spring.
Alliteration litters lengthy lines of love
And similes are quite like a little dove.
They bring peace to the reader and satisfy their soul,
But this rhyming bit is about to grow old.
Syllables. So many syllables.
English was meant to be spoken in beats.
They fill an otherwise empty language
With beauty.
I’m not completely sure what I’m trying to say
Maybe that will come with the dawn of a glorious new day.
Jessie McGinty
By Isabella Schremp
I see your pain and I ask why
For the pain flows in your eyes
Like a raging sea
Or a burning bush
So why do you cause others the hurt and dismay
You break others confidence
With your words
Like others have done to you
So when will you break the cycle?
And treat others how
You wished people would’ve treated you
But instead, you break others
With the same sticks and stones that were thrown
At you
Sofie Flynn
