- The safety pin hangs on for dear life
- Never losing it’s clutch
- Closing an unnoticeable hole on a forgotten shirt
- Visible only to the one wearing it
- The sleeves folded together, hanging on the fold up chair
- Lifeless and unnoticed
- A single dangling earring is on the desk
- Alone, without a companion
- the pink lipstick no longer holds its tease
- the red nail polish no longer seems to please
- the once appealing smile no longer seems to ease
- the pain and sorrow can only continue to procede
- misery is the only thing he sees
- the voice of disparity through his ears impedes
- His life now empty, no longer has needs
- like bee-less hives to fruitless trees
- his attention turned to the mirror
- His back slightly slouches
- as he tries to straighten his collar
- but no pleasure comes from that
- the pastel blue vase sits on the window shield
- The old picture frame with no picture beside it
- life is like the last page of a notebook
- looking out side the sun hid it’s face behind the gray clouds
safety pin
Ripped shirt
fold up chair
1 dangling dusty gold earring
desk
pink lipstick
Red nail polish
crumbled notebook paper
mirror
window
blue vase
picture frame
Julia Le
Mysterious Darkness
By: Naila Khan
I walk and walk around in this empty house
I know I’m in search for something
Although I do not know exactly what to search for.
Was it the screw for my lamp’s dangling head which sits next to my bed?
Or perhaps the my stats book which is underneath the pile of clothes,
Filled with unfinished homework
I doubt that though, I’m becoming restless
What did I need to find?
Being home alone doesn’t help my mind
I just wished my brain was not so twined
Am I seriously this blind?
I wish someone could just come and remind
Me and be so kind.
There is nothing behind
Only if I could remember, even something which affined
What was it, where is it?
My Safire ring on my cracked counter top?
The tv remote which is still under my pink couch?
My mother’s tan bottle of medication, the unfinished packet of candy?
My brain, heart, and soul becoming more impatient
The cold darkness from outside was filling my lighted house
Darkness, hmm, was it related to that?
Now I’m late, darn, but should I go before I find it?
Oh well, I’ll just have take this coat into the outside cold, perhaps ill remember.
I am home
Looking out the window
Blinded by the mounds of white,
Reminding me of the chopsticks I used earlier
Taking the appearance of wobbling ducks
The landing strip is near, cotton balls no longer visible
No longer does my cellphone get signal
I have arrived home
Although the beauty is hidden to the naked eye, it’s all visible to me
Open fields, animals running free
Enjoying the humid air
Welcomed with hammy down rain boots, dirty and wet
Slobbered and licked by the house pet
Determined to gobble all the freshly baked cookies that came from Jeanette
Unsuccessful he gives up and we all admire the forming sunset
As I take everything in I realize that this is where I belong
Being awaken every morning by the animals melody
No more brown pizza boxes
Now fresh milk
Accompanied by homemade tortillas
Dancing in the rain with my umbrella picking bright red apples
Wearing our family pearl earrings and favorite baby blue bow
Comfortable knowing this is my culture
I am home
With the sky now clearing, a rainbow is formed
-Patricia Gonzalez
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Woman
How could my bed no longer be comforting?
When did my favorite DVD become a glaring depiction of how incomplete I am?
Fifteen years being this person and I don’t recognize the reflection in the mirror.
Perhaps that is untrue.
It was only once I truly looked at that reflection that I was ashamed.
Where did this self-loathing come from?
It must have been the books, or all that time on the couch, useless.
I would never feel right again, I’d been shattered like a vase or lamp during a bombing.
My sophomore year in high school felt like the end.
Like all that was in me was a broken soul burning in an eternal fireplace, unable to mend.
No matter what I did or how much time I would spend,
Trying to feel normal again, to escape the pain, to transcend,
Nothing changed. I had to try though, to pretend
Like everything was all right. It was impossible to comprehend
That it was me. Mine own deluded mind, only wanting to befriend
The person within that was waiting and ready to defend.
Eight months of depression and all I got was a 17-page manifesto of a distraught teenager.
But I learned that I was not worthless. I had family and friends, all who loved me.
I did not need anything else in my life to make me happy.
That other happiness would come someday, and blossom like an orchid.
In the picture frame now lays a memory of hope, of new beginnings.
I see the stuffed animal elephants and care-bears on the windowsill, filled with an undying love.
As I go through life’s simple chores, refilling the cat food and birdseed, I stare into the sky.
The left over wisps of clouds show through the palm trees but a deep, true blue is on its way.
Laura O’Hagan
The Clockwork King
Through these glasses, days go by
The same name mounts the same plaque
Pinned to the wall as my own definition.
This single card in a wild deck, next in the order
To be thrown playfully into the terracotta pot.
Still empty, an untouched piece of art
Mounted on a bar stool, under the blaze
Streaming from a damaged flashlight.
Revamped into something bold
Yet still abiding what has been told.
A readily sharp chef's knife grown old
Prepping a frozen TV dinner still cold.
Far from any exquisite gold
This piece cannot be sold
For within the sketch book’s fold
A big red X paints pages annulled.
A secret drawn shut at closing time
Behind opaque green shower curtains
Stored away between the stacks of blank CD's
And locked behind a chain link fence
No stronger than a looped box of twist ties.
Teetering on the border of exposure.
As a sullen song leaks from a black violin
Under the rumbling clouds of the clacking mahjong tiles.
-Terracotta pot
-Sketchbook
-Glasses
-Deck of cards
-Box of twist ties
-Stacks of blank CD's
-Old chef's knife
-Bar stools
-Name plaque
-Green shower curtains
-Damaged flashlight
-Black violin
-Mahjong tiles
Jason Tse
List:
1. cleats
2. crutches
3. bone earrings
4. book
5. pen
6. field hockey stick
7. spoon
8. jacket
9. toothbrush
10. applesauce
11. milk
12. eyeliner
13. lamp
The Calm Prevails
By Liz Licea
The lamp turns on in the morning,
It is time to leave.
Looking at myself in the mirror,
There’s heavy black eyeliner upon my eyes,
And milk bone earrings upon my ears.
Readying myself; I use the pen and exit.
Preparing for the long car ride ahead
My eyes loosen as they rest upon a book.
When we arrive; there’s an impending cold,
I take my jacket, shining gold
And as the field starts to unfold
With field hockey sticks in hand, we run so bold.
The game starts in one minute, we are told,
Once it begins I hope my cleats can uphold,
When the whistle blows, my breathing’s controlled,
The enemy hits my foot violently, I scold
But I calm my behavior to continue playing,
My foot shouting pain, I disregard it.
I must fight, I must not feel,
Nothing applesauce can’t heal.
I’ll be in crutches, I know
So the urge rises to hit her,
Expose the anger with toothbrush and spoon in hand
But I must calm myself, so I look around
To the peaceful wind and sun together.
Gabrielle Arroyo
Every day going to the sad mess,
The one that can’t be helped
One where everyday their lives are filled with stress.
4 AM we’re out of bed.
Mazatlan, Mexico is already hot and humid.
Long sleeves, big hats, tubs of sunscreen.
We not only build their windows, but we serve as one,
A clearing into another way of life, one of security and quite literally, shelter.
As we trail through the hasty cardboard shields
A sea of children with no shoes nip at our heels
Grabbing, yelling, and running, as if with a freedom to do whatever one feels
In this case not so free but with a demeanor that steals.
Their look of fascination while we work their eyes as open peels
“Helping” however they can, now unaware of their empty stomachs and nonexistent meals
Not we, however, as we overwhelm them with water and a table of food rolled in on wheels
My heart overwhelming as well as all children, at the table for prayer, kneels.
Not only are we building homes, we’re building bonds,
Teaching them unconditional love in their oversized desks
Small hands clutching awkwardly to oversized pencils.
We play games and have prizes they have never seen:
Stuffed animals that exude sheer ecstasy
A simple bracelet that evokes unimaginable gratitude
We all stand together gazing out a window in their brand new, one room home,
Welcoming the refreshing breeze and the endless clear skies.
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