Tornado by Aubrey Neal
Ghazal - Whirlwind
A sense of dread for just the mere thought of a twister.
The swirling clouds fill you with overwhelming terror.
Grey and beautiful colors fill the morning, noon, and night sky.
At anytime of the day, their unpredictability cause terror.
The sirens ring out on a Friday afternoon, just a test run.
No matter how often they sound out, their screech fills you with terror.
A light sprinkle of rain turns into a storm in the blink of an eye.
The news blasts warnings of sightings and calls of terror.
The after feel is surreal, so much damage everywhere.
The homes and people ripped through with terror.
The feeling is suffocating, it takes the air out of a room.
The presence is like a storm you can’t escape, a terror.
Calls of sorrow ring for days and weeks after the funnel.
The Aubrey-Prosper tornado caused lasting terror.
Shakespearian sonnet - Twister
Thunderous winds rip through the earth shattering it,
Heavy screams follow the disastrous path,
Cracks split the ground creating a deadly pit,
The earth has long warned us of it’s impending wrath,
Possessions are a mere speck in the line of the tunnel,
Death nor damage with stop it’s decent,
Only the wind can begin to change this funnel,
Those whom regret get on their knees to pray and repent,
Fear and fascination run rampant in the air,
Screeching sirens give way to a long black train,
Children cry to parents asking how this is fair,
Without the noise the world is silent and plain.
The monster is gone just as fast as it came,
No one but ourselves is to blame.
Happiness by Kelly Sanbria
Shakespearian sonnet - Happiness, Where Art Thou?
Happiness, I cannot seem to find you.
Did I leave you somewhere cold and cruel?
I promise, the love affair maimed me too.
But you, I cannot part with, my life’s jewel.
I know I have wandered in the night, lost.
I have been away, far out of your reach.
But, this dream, I thought, was worth the high cost.
I listened to a con man’s rehearsed speech.
Oh Happiness! Please, please come back to me!
I have called for you on bleeding, raw knees.
I vow my loyalty to only thee!
Happiness, for you I will brave great seas.
There you are: no more love sick rivalries
It’s you and me, against eternity!
Ghazal - Have You Seen My Happiness?
Can you tell me where to find my happiness?
She’s lost and I’m looking for her.
I tried to find her in my books, but she wasn’t in any of the pages.
My happiness is lost, if you see her can you please tell her, I’m looking for her.
Today, my mom noticed that my happiness wasn’t in her arms.
She cried and I told her not to worry, I was looking for her, Happiness wasn’t lost.
Happiness is always with my friends, I should check there.
But I’m scared to tell them I’m looking for her, I shouldn’t have lost her.
I'm stuck here waiting, hoping I can remember where I left her.
That one day, I'll turn around and hear, "Kelly, you've found me!"
A Working Mother by Emily Sweetman
Shakespearean sonnet -That Which Is Stolen
Before the sun has brushed the sky in gold,
I rise while echoes of your breathing stay.
The world still sleeps, yet I, by duty told,
Slip from the warmth that begs my heart to lay.
The morning steals what moments night had kept,
And time feels cruel in how it pulls apart.
I leave behind the dreams where you once slept,
And carry you in the corners of my heart.
The hours blur beneath a stranger’s light,
Each ticking clock repeats what I have lost,
I count the seconds from dawn to fading night,
And pay in time the sum that labor costs.
For every weary day I make it through,
My heart comes home and finds its rest in you.
Villanelle - Withstand
Before the sun wakes, I tie my hair and go.
I whisper love and hope it’s heard somehow.
The quiet aches I hope you never know.
The morning asks for more than I can show,
But purpose hums beneath the why and how.
Before the sun wakes, I tie my hair and go.
I study late, the tired hours slow,
The night grows weary, but I refuse to bow.
The quiet aches I hope you never know.
The toys you love are strewn in the evenings glow,
Small traces of the love you avow.
Before the sun wakes, I tie my hair and go.
The path before me seems to wind and grow,
And guilt resides within me now.
The quiet aches I hope you never know.
And when I’m home, your hug reminds me so,
That love can withstand distance, time, and vow.
The quiet aches I hope you never know,
Before the sun wakes, I tie my hair and go.
Spider by Sam Beshear
Shakespearian sonnet
The jumping spider was sitting alone,
Regal in the sunlight of waning day,
Abdomen shining golden on her throne.
Behind her eyes, what buried secrets lay?
Articles made how crows can learn faces,
Dogs read emotion, whales can know kindness.
Many can’t find themselves in these spaces.
Solitary life doesn’t mean mindless.
Hatchlings of spiders are born see-through, white.
Their pin-prick eyes flicker, scanning in sleep.
Their young jumping legs twitch, as if they might,
Be hunting tasty insectile sheep.
The Lady looked up at me with eight eyes
And I thought, perhaps, she was rather wise
Rondeau
My arachnid queen with a crown of three bands,
Unique amongst hundreds that live in the lands,
She sits calm in the face of a giant so great,
Knowing that I could be filled with hate.
I watch from a distance, hoping she understands.
I wish people would appreciate spiders, meet my demands.
They call them creepy, dangerous, endless “but”s and “and”s.
If someone else found her, all they’d think is to annihilate.
I watch from a distance, hoping she understands.
I take picture after picture, feeling as though my heart expands.
I think of her when we are separated by several spans.
I return and she looks at me with eyes of eight.
I see her rest out in the open, hesitate.
She would be frightened, moved by monstrous hands.
I watch from a distance, hoping she understands.
Music by Jesalyn Rodriguez
Ode - O Melody
O Melody, you move inside my chest,
Harmony holds me, giving me rest.
Rhythm and tempo tap in my hand,
Bass and treble shift, they understand.
A single chord, a simple note,
The scale climbs slowly, lyrics float.
The beat, the drum, the guitar plays,
Piano lingers through long days.
The echo calls, the choir sings,
A loud crescendo shakes all things.
The refrain stays, the tune still flows,
A song inside my spirit shows.
Each sound a pulse, a breath, a prayer,
The air vibrates with sacred care.
O voice that rises, sharp like fire,
Music is all I most desire.
Shakespearian sonnet - The Final Orchestra
The trumpet players raise their brass to the blue
A heartbeat starts to shake the ground
And then the glass choir sang through
melody made heat and all ears were on the sound
judges looks on unwavering
The crowd sits in silence as the music swells
Well maybe the judges are just savoring
The nerves set in, and now the choir yells
Morning dew drips off a blade of grass
Blood trickles from the bassist's finger
Years of practice and endless class
the last instrument plays, then music still lingers
The arboraters stand to their feet, all wait to hear
The hole in the orchestra is filled when they cheer
In the Kitchen by Corbett Dunn
In the kitchens bright, I catch my pan,
Drop in butter, begin to plan.
With knife in hand on cutting board,
I dice, I mince, no steps ignored.
I slice the meat, then season well,
Each herb and flavor starts to swell.
The stove brings heat, the lonely oven waits,
I bake with tender care, then check the plates.
No time to burn, I move with grace,
With gloves I turn and find my pace.
To cook is love and my sacred space.
Gas Station Chocolate by Kelly Sanabria
The putrid smell of ethanol and diesel curls around my nose as it greets me,
Gas pump #2 is decaying, covered with dirt and debris.
It’s like a reflection of my world now: bleak and nightmarish.
Gravel crunches underneath my feet, I think “Chocolate will make me grin and bear it.”
The gas station’s dust-smeared door advertises drinks, “Buy One, Get One Free!”
My stomach twists in knots,Oh no…this red-haired clerk…she knows me.
I wanted the small relief of chocolatey candy, couldn’t the universe have just let me be?
A short line of three separates an anxious me and Tina Parrish.
I bite my tongue until I taste regret and bloody grief.
I have a choice to make you see:
Should I take a knife to her glee,
And tell her someone so dear to us has perished,
Or let her continue to live in blissful ignorance, where my brother can be cherished?
Do I drag her down to the frigid, icy depths of this melancholy sea with me?
Would it be so bad to cage my brother’s existence in only her belief?
Ophelia's Last Song by Olivia Alexander
(inspired by The Fate of Ophelia by Taylor Swift)
I walk through wildflowers-
Petals bruised by footsteps not mine.
The breeze tangles in my red hair
Like fingers that once promised forever.
Fresh air fills my lungs like a hymn
While the river hums your quiet melody.
The willow leans in, whispering truths
Its bark is rough with memory
I climb its aching arms,
Each branch is a vow you broke.
The water below is still,
But I know it listens.
A tremble. A crack.
The wind howls like your voice
When you swore I was your muse.
The sky pulls away-
A curtain closing on your act.
Splash. The river writes my name.
My gown clings like ivy,
Like memory, like regret.
I sink beneath your silence,
Lungs full of hush.
But this is no surrender.
This is the chorus you never let me sing.
Conflict by Patrick Hull
Tough, the helmet, that guards your mind. Coarse, the furs, that clothe your spine. Sharp, your
axe, that serves your kind. Your preparation is ready, you’ll soon succumb.
Strong, as iron, you rush to battle. Brave, as bears, you chant your battle cry. Prideful, as
warriors, you find your enemy. Your fight begins, you’ll soon succumb
Quick, as you strike, at your opponent. Slow, as you stumble, from their parry. Still, as you stand,
their sword now through you. Your battle ends, you’ll soon succumb.
Wet, as blood, coats your chest. Hot, as life, pours from your neck. Cold, as wind, drains your
strength. Your body fails, you’ll soon succumb.
Loud, as throbs, flood your ears. Numb, as sense, flees your hands. Tense, as muscle, strains to
right you. Your limbs weaken, you’ll soon succumb.
Hate, as you see, who struck you down. Fear, as you feel, yourself meet ground. Exhaustion, as
you hear, all sounds be drowned. Your will fades, you’ll soon succumb.
Shock, as you wake, sat at a table. Awe, as you gaze, at the food filled table. Joy, as you reunite,
with those you fought with. Your will survives, despite having succumbed.
Softball by Bella Hardeman
Spending my entire childhood preparing for my future
Wasn’t necessarily what I thought I was doing —
But I was.
I spent every day in the either the blazing heat or bitter cold.
To me is was nothing to run through the grass
Way to the fence
To catch a little yellow ball in my glove.
Though the heat was exhausting
Any ounce of hydration and I was ready to do it again.
Once I was older there was no more running to the fence.
Rather,
I stood in a chalk lined circle waiting to hear the umpire loudly yell
STRIKE!
Or wait for the silence that followed a ball.
There is no greater sound to hear the bat whiff through the air
As the batter swung right through a pitch.
The game does come with downs.
There is nothing in this world that sinks my heart more than giving up a grand slam.
Watching the batter slowly round the bases and celebrate my mistake.
Singles hurt
Doubles make me doubt
Triples make me sick.
And homeruns almost whisper
“You’re done.”
There are ups.
And there are downs.
But nothing beats waking up to put on a uniform and be a hero for the day.
To belong to something greater than oneself.
Not to just be a player on a team with a coach.
But to mean something.
For my presences to linger longer than I do.
To hear my name ring through the voices in the wind.
That is when I know.
For me,
This game will never end.
Binary Affections by Nic Samson
Filled to the brim with binary code,
Nontonal voices advise societal modes.
Unseen energy emboldens the masses,
Who give credence to opinions of an unbodied fascist.
Mildew stains on churning engines,
Quantum steam of electric hinges.
Death of the mind birthing easy access,
Thrust from past to future we achieve a placid absence.
But present wars reside above electric tongues and frigid hums,
Persistent treats, we overeat, the fodder from our masters.