Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Poetry

With this being National Poetry month, I want to give us a chance to write a poem.  Now, writing a poem is about the language.  It is about playing with language using those devices we have been learning all year long.  

So, here is your prompt.  Write a 16 line "Why does it matter poem?"  If you do not like this prompt, write a junk food poem.  Whichever poem you choose to write, remember it should have those devices we have been working with: symbols, metaphors, similes, anaphoras, alliterations etc.  

The example below is just my take on the prompt.  As long as the phrase, "Why does it matter" appears somewhere in your poem, it works.

Example:

Why does it matter that the shoes I wear are not
heels, and my jewelry is not a pearl necklace.  Why does it matter
that when I sing while driving, my voice is not amplified or streamed?
Why does it matter that books opened speak a language I understand,
and build with letters,
forming words,
making sentencesstrungtogether that hang across
page after page lighting up the silence?  Why does it matter that
when I am in public, I am quiet?  Not because I have run out of things to say
or my mind has powered down, but because sometimes knowing comes from
observing and listening?  Why does it matter that when the sun comes up
and the sky is streaked with red, orange, and blue,
I cannot help but think in poetry, and why does it matter that
sometimes my fingers cannot help but hold a pen
and watch as it skates across the page etching meaning
to make sense of the world.  Why does it matter?
It doesn't matter to anyone but me.

53 comments:

  1. Why does it matter that I am reserved?
    I talk to those that I have something to say, but why
    Must small talk always be incorporated into a conversation?
    “Hi, how are you?”
    “I’m good, how are you?”
    “I’m good”
    That’s it, that’s all it is.
    And it is annoying and purposeless. Why must I conform to societal
    Standards. In this world, it is encouraged to be different,
    Unless you’re shy. When you turn your head to most
    Because you hate that small talk, people think you are above them.
    You think you’re too good to speak to others.
    And you’re rude. But if people got to know you, you’d open up.
    You need a reason to talk to people
    Without that stupid small talk. But in a world where communication is everything
    It matters when you’re shy.
    (it was 16 lines in word, but looks like it's not here)
    -Bolger, J. 2

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  2. Have you ever noticed that school doesn’t teach knowledge?
    And yet we still rely on all of our education for college.

    I know about matrices and the sinking of the Lusitania,
    I can tell you all about the 1648 Peace of Westphalia.

    I am able to read music, to read Spanish and French,
    I know that sulfur has a very strong stench.

    I can solve a problem, maybe area under the curve
    I know all about the monetary policy and the Federal Reserve.

    I know so many facts, my head is exploding,
    I feel as though my desire to learn is eroding.

    Facts are fine, but knowledge is vital,
    Yet some feel that when they know trivia they are entitled.

    But it is intuition, emotion, and especially common sense,
    That lead us through life to help us understand all it presents.

    I turn my textbook to page five hundred and three,
    But why does it matter, why does it matter to me?

    -Kett J 2

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  3. Why does it matter that I do well in school?
    Why do you care about when I grew or fell,
    about my work habits or the way I study?
    You are Babe Ruth, but I am Alfred Nobel.

    Why does it matter that you beat me in sports,
    and why do you care that I beat you on tests?
    Shouldn't we care less about others with less competition,
    and more about our own successes and what we do best?

    Why does it matter that some struggle in college,
    While you sail through with the wind to your back?
    Why do you care about their scholarships and grants,
    For you have things now that they'll forever lack.

    Why does it matter that we're not all the same?
    Why should I care about what others do?
    It makes no difference to me.
    Care less about them and more about you.

    - Ryan M. 2



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  4. Why does it matter-
    The rips in the ribs of my angry converse-
    When the pale, salt-crusted fabric
    Anyway begs to be kicked to shreds?
    Laces still done,
    The yawning hole in the middle
    Hungry for digits to devour;
    Disgusting how they lick
    Their crusted yellow lips
    As I wedge their teeth with the shoe horn,
    How they role their fabric eyes
    With the taste of their reward.
    It hardly matters to my cold feet which,
    Parched for flip-flops,
    Sing with entrapment as I grab my backpack
    And kick my cursed winter shoes
    To the car.

    Jankovsky A. 7-8

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  5. Why does it matter that I sit here for an hour to type a blog?
    My mind races with so many ideas,
    But I feel like I am stuck in a fog.

    Why does it matter that I tend to be over competitive?
    A game of Jeopardy wins me ten bonus points,
    So winning must be imperative

    Why does it matter that I tend to overcomplicate any situation?
    For a month, my brain told me Akron.
    But my heart fought for the Bearcat Nation.

    Yes I have my weaknesses,
    I cannot count how many there may be.
    But value me for my strengths,
    And you’ll get the best out of me.

    Srivastava R, 2

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    Replies
    1. Noooooooo just realized this is only 13 lines ;(

      Delete
  6. Identity

    Why does it matter what I choose to look like?
    I am me, it's never been clearer.
    It's much too hard to be someone else,
    A haunting reflection in the mirror,
    Who pleases all around but me.
    This reflection is everything I am not,
    A beautiful red maple tree,
    While I am a sorry shrub.

    Why does it matter what everyone thinks?
    The whispers beside me tell whimsical lies,
    They are far more creative than I.
    My truth is etched in shiny stone.
    Nobody knows who I am,
    But I will show them.
    I am me, it's never been clearer,
    I won't change my reflection in the mirror.


    I actually wrote a much better one on the same topic without the restrictions that I like much better. I'll just throw that in, too.

    Who Am I?

    I am a soul, inhabiting a vessel.
    My body is a form of transport,
    Moving me from place to place.
    My mind is made of stardust,
    Infinite constellations of neurons,
    Firing for eternity in conversation.
    I am a never-ending galaxy,
    Bursting with color and complexity.
    My thoughts are beaming stars,
    My fears are black holes,
    But I am wholly invisible.
    My body is not my own,
    What is visible is not me.
    I am a soul, inhabiting a vessel,
    Whose exterior is irrelevant.

    - Bahr, S. 7/8*

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  7. Why do I tend to listen to my brain?
    Analytics, numbers, and amounts drive me insane.
    Are these the true amounts that define who we are?
    Or are they just numbers that set the bar.

    Why does it matter what grades I gets in school?
    Although it’s important to some, it is not a statistic that rules.
    We live in a world defined by a single amount,
    That we forget to pay attention to what counts.

    Why does it matter what college I go to?
    Like a marriage, it’s something most people do.
    It consumes our thoughts and heavies our minds
    Like a weight on the back of mankind

    Although it isn’t necessarily right, it is the way the world looks at things
    We can either conform to it or be our own human beings
    Although it might be a difficult toll,
    It is the only way to our one true goal.

    Wasylko, G 7/8th Period

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  8. Why does it matter what story I choose to write,
    How impactful I make my thesis, or that my explanation isn’t right?
    Why does it matter that I’ve failed so many tests,
    My mind ran away from me, it wasn’t enough to give my best.
    Why does it matter that I tripped up in a race,
    Are my weary legs not as worthy as those in first place?
    Why does it matter that I cried the other day,
    A million tears poured down the mounds of my skin, all because of a letter grade.
    Why does it matter that I let a friendship go,
    Seven years no longer matter when the torn up pieces cannot be sewn.
    Why does it matter that I didn’t win the prize,
    “Good job,” you say, I congratulate you; can’t you see through my disguise?
    “Why does it matter,” is just a question, and these words just a reply,
    But the emotions these memories can create make it hard to say goodbye.
    In the end, it doesn’t matter what flaws have filled these years,
    For they have been truly worth it, and their impact will always adhere.

    Shaniuk, B 7/8

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  9. Existential Crisis Over Coffee

    Over coffee, my best friend and I contemplate the universe.
    Between sips, the questions spill:
    “Why are we here? What’s the point?”

    “Why does it matter that I paint and you write poetry?”
    “For who? For what reason?”

    I have no answer to offer, only an unfounded faith
    That the human experience is a story, one worth telling,
    One with plot, design, commentary – in tender hands,
    Beginning like petals of a flower unfurling
    And ending with a broken stem, snapped gently, with the kindest fingers.

    They say there are sunflowers growing over Vincent van Gogh’s grave.
    I can’t say why, but I think it’s very beautiful.

    I watch as this poem writes itself,
    My fingers along for the ride.
    I don’t know why it matters,
    Only that, somehow, it does.

    Keller N 7/8

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  12. This isn't a poem I just wanted to let you guys know there are scholarshipson on poetrypower.org where you can submit poems for scholarships!

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  15. Why does it matter what score I got on the OGTs or the ACT?
    Why does it matter what grade I got on the AP Chem test or what my thesis for AP Lit is?
    Why does it matter what percentile I am in my graduating class?
    Why does it matter what scholarships I got if in the end I wonder if it was all worth it?

    To society, I am a walking number that shows my worth.
    Twenty-first in my class and a 31 ACT score, they call me.
    But what does that all mean?
    Do I really want people to remember me as an analytical number?

    Society sets obscure bars that we as people are supposed to strive towards.
    I should seek a Master’s or a Ph.D just because it makes me “look better?”
    I should undergo a certain profession because it is more valued in society?
    But, what if I do not see the worth of it all at the end of the day?

    50 or 60 years from now will I seek refuge in my score on the AP Government exam?
    Will I be okay knowing that people only remember me as a statistical number?
    No. I want to be remembered as loving roses and having a dream of helping others.
    The little things and my dreams should define me, not a statistical number.


    This is not 16 lines on here, but I promise it was 16 lines on word!

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  16. Senator

    Senator
    You walk in at the end of the night with your secretaries
    On your arms, smiling and nodding at everything you say.
    You stroll down to the end of the hallway, shake hand with the other execs,
    Smile. Eat the pizza.
    Leave.
    You did your part. It all went down smoothly;
    Even more smoothly for you when you didn’t have to see
    The people that smell of cigarette smoke and drive rusty cars
    And thank us as we fill their trunks and backseats with their Christmas dinners
    While you were home eating and wrapping expensive gifts.
    Because in the end, you don’t care about them. You said it, once, but
    Saying it means nothing if your actions betray you,
    As was said to an equally arrogant prince by the heroine.
    I’m no heroine, though.
    So, as I watch you smile and wave to your adoring public,
    I let you keep the thought that seems to guide your actions:
    Why does it matter that others do the work and the worry, starve and strive and act human,
    As long as I get the attention I deserve?
    For you, we doesn't matter
    And never will.
    Keep up the good work, sir. See you in Washington.
    I’ll be the one on the other side of the picket line.

    Maslach, K 2

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  17. “May I be Excused?”

    Why do we run so easily from the world?
    Why does it matter if we flee from our problems?
    The judgments catapult our way
    Rude questions asked every day
    Flee without hesitancy
    “May I be excused?” Yes, you may


    Why does it matter that we flee from our problems?
    To flee? Or not to flee? That is a question of the soul
    Leave home when the abundant arguments break out
    Or stay, and contribute to the deafening shout
    To fight the Cyclopes and create a grave
    Or flee grandly from the problematic cave


    Not all flowers should be worldly displayed
    For sudden synthesis cannot be repaid
    One can always return when the darkness strolls away
    And in that time of leave, enjoy the day
    Turnea D, 2nd Period

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  20. Celestial Brothers

    A light breeze runs across your face in the night as the Moon struggles to Hold back the Sun.
    Fading, dying, lost, the moon’s luminous light, aglow in nocturnal obscurity. Midnight’s gleam wanes as the birds chirp,
    The trees wake
    The Sun asserts itself in moonlight. The night’s shadows and the Sun’s Auburn rays lay atop one another, superimposed: equal, separate, brothers.
    Time stops to witness a dying Moon’s soul taken by the Sun.
    Taken, used, but to be restored.
    Spirit fuels the Sun as It rises, Its life casting light into darkness,
    taking the day. Later leaves blow across patches of four-sided stone,
    pressed upon the dirt in days past, but warm still from the day that is ending...

    ...birds fly tired, singing on a wave of flushed red light, the Sun’s final breath. The Moon claims the sky as the Sun subsides. Ethereal and crisp becomes the world as it bends to the will of its new harbinger.
    But why does it matter? you ask as philosophical paralysis overcomes you. Hollow synapses run through your brain as you struggle to comprehend; staggering in the face of a cosmic life-cycle.
    You start to ask W..h...y...?
    then you realize you are the cosmos.

    Bruggeman J 7/8th

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  21. Why does it matter? What a question to ask
    For indulging in our existence is not a simple task
    In retrospect, nothing matters at all
    No church visits, no money, no morals, no gall
    It does not matter who we are, or how we choose to be
    Because when it comes down to existence, we are as important as a flea
    Humans are not individual or rare
    In the end, we simply all must pay Charon’s fare

    So I encourage you young children, please make quick haste
    Or you will continue to be subjected to eating society’s paste
    They try to categorize us, stick us to their boards
    Keeping us in line, busying us with tasks, unplugging our cerebral cords
    We are circus elephants you see, with a few tasks to follow
    If we do good, we get our peanuts, I mean money to wallow
    So do not believe in the line to which we must adhere
    Because when you stop following the expectations, your mind will never feel so clear
    Megan Lear 2nd Period

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  22. The holier than thou
    Looking down from their heavenly heights
    Elevated above the “lesser”
    Enlightened in their sacred sight

    But regardless of this ignorance
    We still inhabit the same holy hall
    Though they piously pontificate
    Around one and around all

    And while still on this earth
    It is quite easy to claim
    Despite one’s own actions
    That you see us the same

    Perhaps in the future
    You’ll be more self-aware
    That all the people around you
    Couldn’t give your “holiness” a care

    Why does it matter?
    Your sacrament and share
    Found from some fantastically fabricated
    Book that too often errs

    Mike Crow 7/8

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  23. Why does it matter that I am going to school without my best friend?
    My shoulder to lean on.
    My competition.
    My second brain.

    Why do I care so much about tangerines and PB&J and losing the game and Zeke?
    Why do I get jealous when someone tries to take my place? Why have you not let them?

    Why don’t I care that you’ve seen me at my worst?
    Why do I call YOU when disaster strikes or pain hurts?

    Why do those four hour phone conversations still make me smile?
    The ones that got me in trouble.
    The ones that I don’t regret for a second.

    Why do I hope that our friendship will be as reliable as the sun?
    Absent only for a moment, but always there the next day.

    Why did God bless me with such a wonderful friend like you?
    Why did He allow for our first simple, stupid, small conversation to blossom into this unbreakable trust?

    Why does it matter that I cry thinking about possibly losing the friend who has made such an impact on my life?
    Why does this matter so much that I can’t see my computer while I type?

    Why does all of this matter?
    Because you, sir, matter so much to me.

    Woods, L 2

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  24. Why does it matter what my writing style is like?
    From Shakespeare to McCarthy no two writers are alike.
    Yet, in High School, we are all chained by the rubrics of conformity.
    Monotonous, scholarly, systematic writing.
    You can’t go over a page or employ contractions,
    A five paragraph structure of the significance of the most insignificant detail is desired.
    What is the significance of a grain of sand on a beach?
    Deviate from this path and your grade is in dire.
    But in looking for meaning in everything are the big ideas of literary works forgotten?
    Does anyone truly remember the color of Raskolnikov’s shirt or Alex’s pants?
    After reading a book we are left wanting,
    We never get to see another person’s perspective without restrictions.
    Discussions have become substituted by rubrics.
    Who cares what you think? This essay of one thousand restrictions is how you should think.
    But how can a subject as arbitrary as writing be fairly graded?
    When a literary masterpiece to one can be garbage to another.

    Judele C, 2nd

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  25. Why does it matter that I’ve stared at this blog for 65 minutes now, not an ounce of inspiration sparking my brain?
    My eyes have now crossed, the words have blurred.
    My eyelids grow heavy, and my mind ever more fogged.

    Why does it matter that I’m bogged down with work?
    From AP Euro, to AP Lit, Lax to NHS, OSU to IA scholars: the demands never-ending
    So many acronyms and abbreviations,
    Yet their true meaning seems lost beneath a mountain of responsibility.

    Why does it matter that I’m losing my mind?
    Adulthood stands 3 weeks away,
    Full independence in 4 more months.
    Yet, instead of excitement I feel stress; instead of joy, anxiety.

    All of this matters, but in a way it doesn’t.
    In 4 months I’ll be 120 miles away, questioning other assignments,
    In 4 years I’ll get a degree and be thrust into the work force.
    In 400 years, I’ll be gone, but the big picture will still stand; someone else will sit in my place asking, why does it matter?

    Harris S, 2nd

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  26. Why does it matter that I am not the best, nor am I perfect?
    Why does it matter that I am not within the top one hundred of my class, and that I have not had straight A’s in years?
    Why does it matter, if I don’t ever really figure out physics?
    Or calculus, or even poetry?
    Will I really use it later in life anyways? And perhaps I just can’t understand it now.
    Why does it matter that I am not the first chair first trumpet player,
    And that I am not the star of the pieces?
    Why does it matter that in the eyes of my role models, I make wrong choices,
    And simply cannot live up to incredibly high standards?
    Why does it matter, that I am not the perfect shape or size,
    Especially in the eyes of the society around me,
    When I am happy as I am?
    Why does it matter? It doesn't matter to me.
    I am content with the fact that it does not matter,
    Because at this moment I am the best that I can be for me.
    Anna Bunting 7/8

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  27. Why Does It Matter?

    When I’m sitting behind a desk one day
    Dressed in a power suit, going on my fourth cup of coffee,
    I’ll gaze around my office, and see what I have built
    And wonder if my work was worth the quiet.

    I wonder if happiness comes not with six figures and glossy framed diplomas,
    But sticky fingerprints on the back windows of a minivan.
    Would I be happier if I had someone to come home to
    Rather than a job to get up for?

    At this moment I contemplate, review, remember.
    When creating the time table of my life,
    I made sure to include college, and law school, and investing, and career building
    But I forgot to leave room to breathe.

    Economists can measure GDP, TCO and MCP
    But can they calculate the value of life?
    I glance at the clock and tell myself I still have time.
    I wonder if it’s all worth it.

    Florek, E. 7/8

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  28. Untitled

    His lulled eyes and hollow cheeks
    sink every bit more with each drag of toxins.
    And I sit beside him on the cold cement floor
    suffocating on the secondhand air.

    His bleeding blue eyes are crazed and drown me in
    “Why does it matter?”s
    And I cannot respond.
    We don’t see the same things.

    After his lifetime of searching for meaning in mountains
    and young, pretty girls,
    that rug was pulled out from underneath him,
    leaving the cement floor we sit on.

    As I watch him suffer and degrade,
    I see the gears of “starting over” creaking.
    He will find what really matters
    and get off the icy ground.

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  29. Why does it matter? Why don’t you see, that it doesn’t matter for you or for me
    Am I a nihilist because I see the end? The dust, the darkness, an unspeakable void
    As the time goes by and my expiration date looms, should I get a tattoo?
    Pierce my body? Shave my head? Why not?
    Or should I go to church, get good grades in school, conform to society like they expect me to?
    Maybe I’ll get a tattoo that doesn’t matter, or dye my hair because I’m half dead anyways
    As I write this I realize that I suck at writing poems, but in one hundred years will that matter? No
    So maybe I’ll eat that extra chicken wing, spend two hundred dollars on a bathing suit, and get my nose pierced because who will be left to judge me when we’re all decomposing in the ground?
    Aguinaga, C 7/8*

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  30. Prom King, Prom Queen. High School Days,
    Long nights. I think back to myself, “Why does it matter”?
    Why am I obsessed with the latest news? The new trends?
    Who got with who this weekend and who did not?
    If I have too much fun, I do not care about school.
    If I stay at home all night, I have no life.
    The bigger picture states otherwise.

    High School is just one small chapter of life.
    You turn the page and you have a whole novel ahead of you.
    College, work, family, death, life, gains, loss, etc.
    You look back and those four years become insignificant.
    You stumble across an old photo of you at a prom.
    You were not queen, or king, or anything. You were just you.
    You think back and say “Why does it matter”, was it even worth the stress?

    Society puts forth a mantra that High school is the best four years
    Of. Your. Entire. Life. We think that we have something to prove.
    We are supposed to “find ourselves”.
    How can we do that with 2400 judgements, 2400 complaints?
    2400 pointless souls that made you feel less of a person anyway.
    We cannot simply do this.
    We all look back and think “Why does it matter”?

    It something that is done without thought. 7:25 to 2:15.
    Ten class periods that is supposed to enlighten the world
    On who you really are.
    AP classes define the successful, the motivated, and the achieved.
    Regular classes define the others.
    However, years from now they will be a mere memory.
    Stop worrying about making the most of this time and
    Worry about making the most of life in general.
    Then you will no longer find yourself asking,
    “Why does it matter”?
    CIka, M2

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  31. Why does it matter?

    Years from now I will sit and ponder,
    4 years I’ve spent, I’ve always wondered,
    Why it is we must conform,
    Forcing ourselves into a social norm

    Must we be bound for success?
    Our futures relying solely on tests,
    Our character relying only on a degree,
    Rather than a sense of integrity.

    The clothes we wear wont help you through college,
    An ignorant tidbit among high schoolers that lack knowledge,
    Why cant a human find love in the same sex?
    Do they not deserve to feel wanted like the rest?

    Why does it matter? You see I’ve come to find out
    That compassion is not what this world is about,
    This world is about being just like the others,
    Struggling to fit in, true originality smothered.
    Mewhinney, M 2

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  32. I want to know what drives a decision
    Why does it matter in the long run?
    Who gets to decide what is right for the good of an overall group?
    Each decision is a note, part of an overall tune
    It's rhythm, and style are it's variations of previous one, made it's own
    Justified in it's right to live, it marches from off the paper to life
    It's struggle all it's own and its change it's own decision
    The music decides it's own course of life, what is both right and wrong
    Its knowledge is revered far and wide just like its family that rallies on steps
    It preaches what right from knowledge, wisdom and faith
    Standing resolute in granite at the end of the day
    Carved from the mountain of despair as a stone of hope, for all to see
    That a decision is worth much more than originally thought
    It drives a march to a faster pace so that music can be heard by all.
    So why does it matter, the repercussion for a decision
    Because at the end of the day it still stands not only in heads but amongst the cherry blossoms in DC.
    Supina,R 2 .

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  33. Life is a huge competition against each other,
    Climbing our own mountains,
    To see who can get the highest.
    Sometimes a fall stops people,
    Sometimes it encourages, excites, and emboldens.
    The people in our lives we have met,
    And all of the people, who we will encounter,
    Come into our lives and give us a set of directions,
    To add onto our past collections of memories.
    So we move on, day after day,
    Towards the uncertain future,
    Always hoping that this may be the one stop,
    Where the person will not have a set of directions for us,
    Maybe they will have more to offer,
    Maybe they will offer something beautiful enough,
    To inspire us to stay.

    Patel, D 2

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  34. “Dear Society”- By C. Lenhoff
    Why does it matter if I only have a few good friends and not an entire group?
    Why does it matter if I would rather stay in my room
    Like a turtle afraid to come out of its shell,
    Than to be a social butterfly?
    Why does it matter if I work on homework all weekend
    Instead of gathering with groups of girls and guys at the mall?
    Why does it matter if I am not the prettiest, the smartest, or most popular?
    I am good enough in my eyes; why not in yours?
    Why does it matter if I am me?
    Who should I be? You?
    You who judges without knowing?
    You who never sees under the surface?
    You who is like a dark cloud hanging above people’s heads
    No, I will be me
    I am who I am; feel free to judge
    But why would it matter what you think when I am happy as I am?
    ~C.Lenhoff 2.

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  35. I have made plenty of mistakes in my past
    But why should that matter now?
    Everyone has an oops moment in their lives
    But why should that matter now?
    The past is in the past, or so they say
    But our pasts tend to make appearances
    Where and when we least expect them.
    They say that Judgement Day is coming
    And that He will cast the final hand when
    Choosing our fate. But why should that matter now?
    I say go out and make those mistakes,
    Because what you do matters now.
    Your life is all that you are and all that you have.
    It is like your canvas, or blank music staff, or blank paper.
    It is your medium to create what should be the greatest story ever told.
    The story of you.

    Dame, E 2*

    ReplyDelete

  36. Why does it matter that I’m clumsy with my mouth
    That my words have trouble coming out
    That I struggle to put the pieces together
    When I’m talking about anything other than the weather
    I’m just a girl trying to find my way
    And sometimes I have nothing good to say
    So let me wander, and find what I should use my words to build
    Fix these broken cities- because I think I am skilled
    Enough to put us back together
    Pick our organs up off the floor, however
    It does not change a thing
    I still can’t use my wings
    I can not stomach anything honest so my speech comes out in slurs
    I bare my teeth and try to contain these haunting words
    Someday I will teach my mouth to tell you what’s wrong
    Maybe someday I will even be strong
    Gall, A 2

    ReplyDelete
  37. Why does it Matter?

    Why does it matter that I don’t know the square root of 529?
    It’s not like I’m going to need to know it anyway
    Why does it matter how many passes I’ve used already?
    I just need to go to the bathroom
    Why does it matter that my jeans have a hole in them?
    I don’t have another pair clean
    Why does it matter that I didn’t do my homework?
    I have a job and you don’t grade it anyways
    Why does it matter that I am on my phone?
    If I needed to listen I would
    Why does it matter that my hair is pink and purple?
    That is who I am
    Why does it matter that I don’t want to talk in class?
    I cry myself asleep over it already
    Why does it matter who you think I am?
    It doesn’t because I already know


    - Angie G. 2*

    ReplyDelete

  38. I overheard some kids at school;
    "We need another MLK" "We need one soon"
    "We need one now."
    Fifty years later and how many times does your grandad degrade
    "Those people"
    Ninety years later and how times are we told to
    "Go back to the kitchen" or asked "But what were you wearing?"
    How many years to go until we don't hear
    "God loves you, but not who you love."

    We are all hellbent on changing society with some
    hashtags,
    Hashtags don't stop the hate that is happening.

    We don't need another MLK.
    Don't wait for someone to step up.
    Pick up your feet.
    It matters because we all matter.


    Parey C 7/8

    ReplyDelete
  39. Why does it matter
    If I am broken or I am perfect
    If I am thick or I am thin
    If I am alone or surrounded by many

    Why does it matter
    If inside I am white or I am brown
    Or I am red or yellow, green, pink
    It is all the same, yes?

    Why does it matter
    How many crumbs fall, in a trail, perhaps
    One, one hundred, one thousand
    Pieces of me are everywhere

    It shouldn’t matter to you
    Nor to anyone with a rightful soul
    Because dipped in a tall glass of cold milk,
    All us sweet thangs is the same.

    "Perspective of a Cookie"
    by K Brav 7/8*

    ReplyDelete
  40. Why does it matter if I’m not stick thin?
    My mother told me beauty comes from within.
    Why does it matter if I don’t have an abundance of friends?
    My mother told me less is more when it comes to the end.
    Why does it matter if I don’t like to drink?
    My mother told me it’s better to be able to control what you think.
    Why does it matter if I don’t like to wear makeup?
    My mother told me if they don’t know the real you, it’ll cause a break-up.
    Why does it matter if I am not the top of my class?
    My mother told me to give it my best shot, and that’s all she asks.
    Why does it matter if I prefer to be in sweats?
    My mother told me you don’t always have to dress for success.
    Why does it matter if I party?
    My mother told me if I’m not hung-over then I won’t be tardy.
    Why does it matter if I take my mother’s advice?
    She brought me into this world, so I kind of owe her my life.
    Reva 7/8

    ReplyDelete
  41. Take a trip to Time Square and what do you see
    Thousands of people come to experience the American dream
    Lost in all the lights that appear on the screens
    And everyone of them capturing the moment on their own mini devices
    Why does it matter?

    The screens take over
    The world no longer belonging to the humans
    Taken over by Twitter, Instagram and the endless Snapchats
    Pictures and tweets to remind us of all the wonderful memories
    But they do not matter

    The memories were never created never sealed in our brains
    None of it matters until humans take back their lives.

    Sansone A 2nd

    ReplyDelete
  42. Beyond the closet doors lies a world too vast to imagine.
    So I lay completely still on top of freshly washed sheets exactly 10 inches from the left so I won't see the curtain brush against the shadowed silhouettes.
    When I wake pillows are everywhere but beneath my thousand pound head. The guardians of my room have disappeared.
    I am standing half in front of one mirror and half in front of another not knowing how I was able to tell my legs to swing myself out of the impossibly controlling sheets.
    I eat five,pink marshmallow peeps for breakfast. They stick to my lips like the taste of rain. Sweet, but the taste never lingers long enough for me to hold onto to. 40 grams of sugar stabilizes me more than multiple pills with multiple colors and multiple numbers. Their color intrigues me more than the white curtains of the emergency room. The ticks of each doctor's pen aligns with the shivers of my spine. I'd rather suffer than be a bill, a diagnosis, on the community clipboard. The stares don't matter. The poorly lit offices with sticky leather chairs don't matter. The moving silhouettes who whisper sweet nothings don't matter, because I am me, and no brisk wind in my face will change my thoughts. So I nap at three in the afternoon, 10 inches from the left, on top of freshly washed sheets.


    Grabowski,H. 7/8

    ReplyDelete
  43. Why does it matter?
    Well to you, it may not.
    You were not there from the very start,
    When I learned there can be miracles.

    Where’d it begin? It started in the jungle.
    With chaos all around, I found my sanity.
    And when the worlds were at war,
    It became my safe place, my home.

    And oimoi! my bonds grew stronger,
    As we set our fates right together.
    And though we sometimes argued,
    I knew all along there’s no place like home.

    My love for it grew to the heights of giants;
    Being there felt right, like powdered sugar on French toast.
    All of our insecurities were dropped like vines,
    Because there, we could escape from our troubles.

    As my responsibilities increased,
    I realized that the magic had lasted past midnight.
    We accepted each other’s unique insanity,
    And always knew to take an umbrella if it’s raining.

    It’s something so much bigger than one person,
    Because we’re all in this together.
    And though we had to say some goodbyes,
    The circle will always be unbroken.

    And we went out of the wabe and into our last year,
    And the days flew by until there were none.
    We sang, give me one good reason why I should ever make a change,
    And learned that the differences that make us odd will change us for the better.

    So why does it matter, you ask?
    Because it has changed my world.
    It makes me happy when skies are gray,
    And taught me that there can be miracles, when you believe.


    --Dushek, K 2˚

    ReplyDelete
  44. Why does it matter when someone doesn’t like you?
    Reputation isn’t everything, you know.
    Why does it matter when they shout words that aren’t true?
    Walking away is better than stooping to their kind of low.
    God knows their words will cut like a knife.
    Your demons will drag you down and laugh,
    You’ll feel like you can barely hold on for dear life.
    Sometimes you’ll feel utterly trapped,
    Yet you continue to wake up at 6 AM
    And each day you grow a little stronger.
    You no longer want to get back at them
    And you can hold back your anger a little longer.
    They can no longer snap you like a twig
    And suddenly, they don’t seem to be all that big.
    Why does it matter when someone doesn’t like you?
    The only approval you need is from you.

    Cruse S, 2

    ReplyDelete
  45. screaming,
    i pick up my car keys and drive away from it
    crying,
    i play music louder than my thoughts and roll the windows down to feel the cool sting of the wind rushing on my face
    bleeding,
    i rip the words from my mind and feel the burn of the battle scars they leave behind
    promising,
    to myself i would not care that this would all be irrelevant someday anyway
    lying,
    because all i do is care
    hurting,
    because i don't like complaining
    complaining,
    because i can't handle the hurting
    arbitrating,
    the rising conflict within myself
    illustrating,
    in my head what it would be like had i made better decisions
    memorizing,
    the space between the dashed lines on the road, much like trivial test questions on notecards
    reflecting,
    on every bad thing that's ever happened
    listening,
    to memories of being told i could not do things
    watching,
    the slideshow of everything that has ever happened
    blinking,
    maybe for too long
    draining,
    all emotion like the dentist
    fearing,
    what people would say
    acting,
    because masks are just easier
    concluding,
    because i like having the last word
    falling,
    because why does this matter

    westphal 2nd

    ReplyDelete
  46. Why does it matter if I answer you?
    You talk at me, through me, not to me.
    I’m a pawn in your game using me to get back at each other.

    There is no right or wrong just yelling.
    The fights are endless, relentless.
    Feelings flung like heavy cans of paint against the already stained canvas.

    Mosquitoes mow my marble nerves to nothing.
    But now I’ve ventured and travelled yet I haven’t seen a single soul.
    Not a person to confide in or even a place to hide in besides myself.

    This fortress within is most heavily guarded.
    I’ve known her for years she lets no one pass through
    Climbers beware; the walls are tough and extremely high too

    No one has any idea how cold and icy the nights are.
    Friends and loved ones seem to stay far
    There is a constant argument for everything
    Why does any of it matter?
    Ramsumair 7/8

    ReplyDelete

  47. Why does it matter that I want a busy and hectic life?
    Waking up at seven in the morning each day to go to work,
    running around filling paperwork and calling back clients.
    Having only two hours of break and getting out each night at 11:30 pm.

    Why does it matter that I leave for a week looking to expand my business in other places,
    scheduling meetings and driving from place to place.Exploring new locations and possibilities that drive me home past 3 in the morning.

    Why does it matter that I own one, two, or three businesses and carry on the work load typical of a man?
    Working hard for hours everyday and building my career as a successful business woman.

    Why does it matter that I barely have time for anything other than work?
    It doesn't because I enjoy working long and hard, knowing that every drop of sweat matters. It doesn't because I know that family and friends will always be first. It doesn't because it makes me happy. In the end, that's what matters.

    Galvan E. 2nd

    ReplyDelete
  48. The actions you take on defines you.
    The words you speak, the steps you take
    the action you face

    They define you.
    But what about the air you breath or
    the warmth you feel
    as you speak, as you take a step.

    Does that define you?
    Whether you walk where the green grass grows or
    talk to the ones your mother looks down upon
    that is not what defines you.

    The type of step that leads you to where you want to be
    whether it be towers of cotton or fields of buildings,
    that defines you.

    The people you associate with that are different inside from out,
    the ones that give you hope on a rainy day
    that defines you.

    So why does it matter where I walk?
    Why does it matter who I talk to?

    The little voices in my head talk to me.
    The roads at night talk to me.
    Does that make me crazy?
    Maybe.
    Does it matter to me?
    Everything and more.

    It defines me. It makes me who I am today.
    Each action I take speaks to me in its own way, shaping who I am.
    It defines me.

    ReplyDelete
  49. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  50. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  51. What is death and why does it occur
    What is it about this thing that makes me unsure
    Why did it take away someone so dear
    And become a thing I can’t shake, but can fear
    Death never leaves, in fact it always stays
    In real life, dreams and even in plays
    So why does it happen and why so fast
    Why can’t the precious moments not leave, but last
    So death is like disease, infests and can’t shake
    But you fight for your life because it’s all at stake
    Every battle you fight, and struggle you face
    Will disappear when you death pleads its case
    So I have another question, just one more to go
    Why does one fight if there’s soon nothing to show
    We all want to live, and none want to die
    But if we can’t run from it, why do we try?
    -Camille

    ReplyDelete