Verses In Bloom

Rylie F. - Grade 7 

They tell us to lock the doors,
lower our voices,
hide beneath desks like spilled pencils,
as if walls can stop bullets,
as if silence makes us invisible.

We practice pretending to be ghosts,
whispered breaths, trembling hands,
waiting for the sound we pray never comes
a door forced open,
a scream cut short.

They tell us to run, to fight, to survive,
but never why we have to.
Never why the hallways were built for laughter
become hunting grounds,
Why the desks we scribbled dreams onto
become shields for the bodies beneath them.

The news calls it tragedy.
The politicians call it complicated.
We call it reality.

And tomorrow, the desks will be upright again,
the blood scrubbed clean,
the headlines replaced
until the next time,
until the next name,
until the next classroom becomes a graveyard.

We keep locking the doors,
lowering our voices,
practicing for a day
that should never come.

Drifting Skyward 

(After quote from The Shawshank Redemption, 1994 film, by Isaac Chen)

Some days, I don’t feel like I belong. Some 

Drift away, like the flight of birds.

I want to migrate to a different place 

Where I can do what I want. But aren't 

All things shaped by flaws, yet meant 

To find their way, rise, break, or simply be? So to

Make my life be- 

Longing to me, I must not have

 to avoid the problem and free the caged.

She is powerful

Power of a tiger

Also

Ravishing and captivating like the feathers of a peacock

Kind like a mother teaching her child how to take their first steps

Fierce with the loyalty of a friend who knows what it's like to be le

Limitless like the hopes of a child who has never been hurt before

And she is a flame, blazing through a forest

Magical and bright

Ember, spark, flame

She is a story

All For You ( Lover You Should’ve Come Over of Jeff Buckley) By Ofelia B.

I would give all

Of what remains of my

Life I will offer, spill my blood

Red like roses and glistening for

You, fading in the glow of the

Moonlight spilling into our home, the sweetness

Of your warm embrace as if of

All the worlds I could wander, her

Hold is the gravity that pulls me

What pleads me to stay is the lush sound of laughter

A Recipe for Home

Kaylyn W. - Grade 7

Home is a sweet apple pie fresh from the oven.

Home is all of the people who make me feel seen and loved.

The ones who feel like home encourage me, catch me when I fall.

Or reach out a hand to help me up.

I feel the warm embrace of home in the soft scratch of pencil on paper,

And the golden slivers of sunlight peeking through my window

¼ of home is my soft bed that I can fall into

¼ of home are the words “I love you” or “You’re beautiful”

¼ of home is feeling weightless with no responsibilities.

¼ of home is rising with the sun in the morning, endless possibilities stretching before me.

Home is accepting myself, embracing what I am,

But also working on myself to be a better person for everyone around me.

Never be biased against looks or first impressions,

For home can appear in all different shapes and sizes.

Whether it’s the words “You got this!” or just a kind hug when I’m in need,

A furry companion or an A+ in school.

Home is who I am, and what I give others.

Ethan - 8th Grade

Sometimes I wonder if there’s even a point in being optimistic

You have to think about all of the terrible things that have happened

Gotta pull through, not for you but for the people around you

Close all the bad things out of your mind

A light shines through in your darkest hour

Door-s might not always be open for you, but

To not try is even worse

Open your mind to the possibilities

A new way of thinking, though there will always be a

Window to escape back into the misery of life, but you can’t let yourself go there

Rainey - Grade 5 

My Mistakes

I will shut you out,

I will close the door,

I do not see you, yet I do

Decisions made,

Contracts laid,

Since when did we not think, before we do?

I thought I solved it,

I thought I cracked the case,

But still, I cannot find my place

Allen P.

Block 3 

4/7/25

Paths

(after "Return" of Celia la Luz by Allen P.)

Gently falling rain will bring 

Familiar memories of Connecticut for me,

And the flashbacks of autumn leaves silently swirling at my home.

The ancient birch trees waving calmly in a forest breathing steadily by

A serene bay under a night that's moonlit.

There will always be an open path.

Johnny B - Grade 7 

I was washing my dishes, scrubbing them clean

I scrubbed too hard, which I didn't mean

Out came a genie, in the flesh and bone

Wearing cargo pants and an ice cream cone

He asked for three wishes,

And I listened to him

I was just scrubbing dishes,

A plate oh so thin

I rubbed my eyes once, and did it again

I guess I wasn't dreaming,

There's a Genie in my kitchen den

He showed me his magic, and I blinked and stared

He thought I was sleepy, or just didn't care.

The truth was I did, but couldn't understand

How many fingers were I seeing on my hand?

I kept on thinking, and blinking,

My brain kept on shrinking

I thought to myself one final time

And wished for.....a super ability to rhyme