Poetry

Ode to an Idea and Its Vessel -Brynn Gardner

“Ode to an Idea and Its Vessel”

Ode to an idea and its vessel:
I am standing outside CVS and a pigeon
Swoops down, beak first, rams, telepathically,
An idea into my forehead.

Or, I am walking down the hallway
in a stranger’s house and from a fluorescent
light a bug falls into my mouth,
Dictates pitches from my diaphragm.

Or- wait- I am standing on the shore and I feel
The pinch of a crab on the bottom
Of my foot–feel it climb through muscle
Up my spine so it can pull the strings of my brain.

Or, let us not disregard industrialization.
Maybe I am running through a field and the wind
Covers the sound of a small steamship.
Cargo: Inspiration, Route: My Nostril.

Or, let us not disregard modernization.
I am waiting for my Covid Vaccine and when
They put the needle in, they inject as well
A shot of unprocessed Idea Juice.

Or god forbid we forget witchcraft.
There’s a cool new restaurant in town and I ordered
The soup, fresh from the cauldron, the
Original Thought Extract still clinging to the surface.

Or, maybe it is simpler than that.
I read a story and a neuron fires
Conveys a thought, for me to
Write with steady hands.

…But probably not. More likely I read a story
And the words lift from the page and coil
Into a snake that slips up the nape of my neck
And sings out a beautiful idea.

Mother Nature’s Canvas – Davany Cameron

A Blooming Hill -Knox Visnak

On ash and bone the flowers bloom
Unyielding on the graves of many
The roses flourish and fight back the gloom
They dye the sky in time of plenty

Though the roses stand tall
Each stalk may run
happiness, fun, and all
Free and far from their smoking gun

Copper now sewn, it’s roots stay grown
their pollen poisons the air
We all breathe in, and drown once again
As my glasses fall from my hair

My corpse feeds the new seeds as they’re sown
Reliving that cycle, one more time
I let myself breathe in, absolving my crime
And I get up to do it all again

Summer

Were Riding bikes feeling like we are cool.
Riding down the street not going to school.
Doing willies, tricks that is all we do,
The day is good and also the sky is blue.
Feel like you own the world what a feeling,
Sneaking out to ride bikes if your willing.
Going outside feeling the really nice breeze.
Riding your bike under all of the trees.
Showing up to the river with your bros.
Calling all the friends, they already know..
Having a good time enjoying our day,
Not letting anything bad in the way.
Then you wake up from a really good dream.
It was like real life as it had really seam.

Thousand Lives – Davany Cameron

Musings from a Self-identified Byronic Hero

I hate you.
But I think I might love you.

I don’t understand it.
My stomach sinks when you ask me to meet you,
but flutters with every step.

I think about you all the time,
But when I hear you speak,
I have to keep myself from being sick.

Still,
That superiority complex suits you.

No one else has called me wrong as many times as you have.
And who else mispronounces simple words like you do?

You have a behavior no amount of eyerolls can correct.

Remember when we hung out at my place?
It was pretty fun
Until you said you don’t like stand-up comedy.
What kind of dead soul do you have to have

I’m torn between wanting to hug you
or choke you.
Solid options, huh?

I still sit through your childhood stories,
and hug you when you’re done.
It’s clear that you haven’t read a book in ten years.

I still kiss you.
Even though a part of me wants to jam my tongue down your windpipe.

My friends all told me to break up with you.
One insisted we would go up in flames.
As much as I want to see that,
Every love song on the radio,
no matter how insufferable,
still reminds me of us.

Ugh.

Baseball – Ronaldo Mendez-Soto

Fuel the Blue Flame – Yamileth Soriano Gonzalez

I don’t like this place.
Everyone else can enjoy themselves,
but I just want to leave.
I feel lonely.

Don’t be dramatic.
You’re surrounded by your family.
This is your home.
How can you be lonely?
Where would you go?

I’m not happy here.
They’re my family
because we share blood,
not by choice.

How could you be so ungrateful
when there are people
who want family
but aren’t as fortunate
as you?

How can you be unhappy
when you have so many privileges
that others dream of having?

I don’t feel like going to school.
Keeping up with assignments
and staying attentive in class
It’s too much work.

Stop being lazy.
You’re lucky to be receiving
a free education.
Don’t be ungrateful.

I appreciate my privileges.
It’s just
too much.
School life,
Home life,
What I want for the future.

How can I be a better person,
a better daughter,
a better sister,
a better friend?

Set your thoughts straight.
You’re all over the place.

I’m doing everything wrong,
aren’t I?

Calm down.
No one said anything,
so why are you assuming
the worst?

They’re disappointed.
I’m a failure.
What am I even doing anymore?

Quit talking bad about yourself.
They told you
they aren’t disappointed.

They’re being nice
so they don’t hurt me.
They’re kind
so they may lie
to protect me from myself.

Protect you from yourself?
What are you talking about?
You’re harmless.

Everyone thinks that about others
because they don’t want to watch
someone they care about
lose themselves.

Yet, where are those lost and lonely souls now?
Those that gave up,
who were told they were being dramatic,
who tried to get help,
but their cries fell on deaf ears?

You can’t speak for those you haven’t met.
Everyone goes through something different.
You’re not special.

I may not know
what some people have experienced,
are experiencing,
or will experience,
but one thing is for sure,
We all share a pain that isn’t always shown.

Like the flame of an ethanol fire,
you won’t see it in broad daylight,
but once you get close,
it’ll burn.

The voices of the lost and lonely,
the ones who haven’t given up,
need to be heard
in order to prevent
the flames
from gaining strength
and spreading like a wildfire.

You have family,
friends,
people you care about.
You wouldn’t want them to give up.
So why wouldn’t you listen to those who are about to?

For the Moon Never Beams Without Bringing Me Dreams – Sophia Robertson

What was the Earth made for?

Created from nothing into the

Everything. A silver moon

Shines on my pondering. Never

These thoughts appear under sun beams;

Never do they come without

Pause, bringing

Small peace to me

To chase into dreams

(Golden shovel-style after a line from Edgar Allen Poe’s “Annabel Lee”.)

Weeping Alphabet – Jax Warner

Growing – Myra Gloria

A seed was planted deep in her mind.
From a very young age, and so she grew.
Little by little
with her sunlight as it shined
upon her.

Until her sunlight was gone &
her days dimmed
with clouds surrounding her
she was not used to it the more she grew
trying to ignore her clouds
the bigger they got

Eventually her clouds decided to pour & pour,
it wouldn’t stop.
She felt like she was drowning as
if she was trapped
& her sun was gone.
Her sun would’ve saved her.

What was once bright & beautiful
became dim & broken.
Yet, she was still beautiful
even after her struggles & hurt.
She is still stunning-
more than ever before.
No matter how hurt she was,
how much her clouds poured,
how wilted she became,
she is still as beautiful.
Maybe even more than before.

o.m.w – Yamileth Soriano Gonzalez

The path back to you
is a long one
But I know that it’s worth it
in the long run

I missed you
But I know it’ll take time to fix what I messed up
I love you
But I know that my words alone aren’t enough

If you could understand what I felt,
would you get me the help I need?
If I promised you I was fighting for us,
would you love me for eternity?
Might’ve been a bad idea to just up and leave
and I left you behind with plenty to grieve

That’s why
I left a library of our memories
for you, my lifeline
But now that my next stop is you,
your warmth and love is the only thing on my mind

Here I go
On my way, back to you
Trust me, love, I know
My actions hurt me too
I have my regrets
but it’s worse for whom I’ve upset
But it’ll be okay, now that I’m on my way

Did I take too long?
Did you miss me while I was gone?
How can I be so sure when I feel the need to write you this poem?