Sestinas
Sestinas
Sestinas
Her Dream
by Mattie DonehooMen first dominated society.History being builtpowersought and dreamt
The dreamsof a mother’s little girl becoming a woman.for her to be powerful,to be in a position of first,to builda new society.
Smashing expectations that society has a bearing weight on fulfilling her dreams,but proving girls are strong enough to builda government where manwas first,where they will overpower.
To do anything in her powerto prove societywrong, in which she was not the first.Not the first with a dreamthat a woman and a mancan have equal opportunities to build
the life they want to build.Despite the struggle for powera womenwill not let societyoppress her visions, her dreams. not waiting for the “but first’s”
Firstbuilda dreamand then empowersocietyfor all women
Society may have first been created by menbut with a dream and willpowerit will continue to be built by women.
Sea to Dream, Rose to Harbor
by Meaghan DonehooRise!From the harbor,to the great sea,pass the dreamsuntil you wake.
Wake! Out of bed rising,dreams still harboringits grasps. Seeingthem scream, “not me too.”
Two!Three! Now woke,seaslamming, its waves, risingand falling from the harbor.Go back and dream.
Dream! Fake smiles toharborfeelings. Stay awake!Pick the rose,drop it in the sea.
See!The beautiful dream,rising,from sleep. Toshow wakingis better then harboring
Harbor!Swallowing the sea´s waves,knowing it’s not a dreambut wish for it torise.
It’s not a harbor or a rose,Not something to see when awake,but something to dream.
Better Day
by Kimana YelllowhairIt’s been a week and I’m still sitting in the same darkCorner. I can hear them weeping andBegging to have you back. As twistyAs it sounds, I’m happy he took you. He took you because nobodyCould’ve helped you the way he could. As much as it hurts, I know youFeel more happy, more alive, more love.
You did your part here, you gave loveTo those who weren’t deserving of it. Your world was indeed darkBut, you had hope. You Fought for things you loved and You fought for your children. You were the personWhom everyone adored. What a twisty
Way to take one who had a place in everyone's heart. What a twisty Way to take the one human being I lovedMost. What a way to take the personI needed most. My world went dark. You deserved more. You deserved to watch your children grow, graduate, get married, andThrive. You deserved to hear me say thank you.
Thank you for being there for me. Thank youFor supporting all of my dreams. Thank you for showing me the twistyParts of the world. Most of all, thank you for loving me andHolding me so close to your heart. Your loveAnd support has brought me along way. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold you in your darkestTimes, like you did me. I’m sorry I couldn’t be your person.
You held me together when nobodyElse did. It was never just me. It was always you and me.It will always be you and me. With you rooting for me, there will always be light. With you, rooting for me, I will succeed. As twistyAs this gets, I will rise above anything life throws at me. With your never ending love, I know I can do this. I am enough and
I will smile. I will be successful. I will never doubt myself andIf I do, I know you will be the personWho believes in me most. You taught me that spreading hate,Amongst others or even yourself, is not the key in bettering yourself.Always love, always smile, always help, always keep your head straight.No matter how hard things are, your world can only gain light.
Though your life was dark and twisty, you chose to loveAnd you chose to be a person withA heart of pure gold.
Hidden Sestina
by Calley SchellerSecrets are told by the snitch who told you in hope that you would tell me, to make sure the secret would make usfeel innocent about our sins. They say a secret isn’t important to know in a small town or a big city, a secret should be told, never.
To your best friend, to an eavesdropper, or to your significant other, neverafraid to share until later it becomes the talk of the town, breaking youand your hopes to stop the secret from spreading, even though knowing is tougher than believing. You say it isn’t true but you tell medifferent, the thought in your mind regrettably pushing that they stop. Secret, restricted, classified, these words mean nothing to us
like the words can somehow turn them against us, like suddenly people feel bad for you, help you, but can’t go back in time, not at all.If only the snitch didn’t snitch. If friends were friends they would explain this world as a much better place for me,for the ones who need to tell people your secrets or they have no purpose, like you. Big mouth, attention-seeker, and histrionic personality disorder, we all know.
We are anxious to spread your knowledgethe more secrets you tell, the more you cry wolf to them, the more they say they don’t care, even when you tell methe truth. However, your brown eyes tell lies always,your unbalanced heart can only hurt those that listen to you,your uneasy secrets can hurt those who choose to betray us.
We have nothing better to do besides wanting to know what other people know. It’s easier to talk about other people’s lives instead of dealing with yours, because dealing with your life is more work and you think theyhave it tough. We all wish for better lives but we nevertry to make it better, you sit in pain, and complain to me,you complain to us.
Secrets, riddles, blueprints to one of usand they don’t matter to any one of us anymore because of you. The rest of us can’t tell secrets without thembeing shut down or spread everywhere, not at all a secret anymore. Your selfish need to be the talk of the town, to meit’s worthless, so stop trying to know
everything. Nobody wants to know,nobody needs to know, nobody. So who gave people the right to have a secret? It sure as hell wasn’t you.
Spill the Tea, Sis
by Makayla SandersonI’ve seen growth.Sometimes, it’s helped me learn from my mistakes: watching myself face fear, finding love for myself, self-love. Tea
mugs filled with tea,gardens filled with growth.Bees in love.Everyone trying to learnabout magic. FearOf falling, watching
everyone fly and crash, while we watchedthe ones who kept going. Hot tea, for the ones who need to calm their nerves. FearOvercoming them. Growthin learning,Love.
Falling into love,but only being able to watch,only being able to yearnfor it to be.I’ve been growingsince I was little, tall, and character-like, because of fear.
Fear,sometimes of the monsters under the bed, of love,even of growth,as we are watchingall of our teaspill from our cups, forcing us to learn.
We only learnfrom facing our fears, from letting us seeour lives;watchingthem play on, continuous growth.
Growing up, cleaning up spilled tea, not crying over spilled milk.Facing fears, facing facts, learning from facing, from watching,We see magic, we call it love, but if seeing is believing, then why don’t more believe?
Meltdown
by Lexi O'ConnorWhen we were aloneYou put on a disguise A yellow, pretty, happy mask of love. Yet I always felt broken, Always felt scared. A monster wrapped around my neck that I named anxiety.
Your swirling tornado eyes filling mine, making me anxious.A laugh that was never for me, grounded up my loneliness. The way you'd become distant, how you never would reply to me for hours made me scurry,But I became dependent on your disguise, So I stayed like a little girl desperate for attention and my heart went broke From lending too much of my love.
I thought you were so lovely--But you tricked me, left me in the dark. Now, the thoughts inside your mind leave me with angst. My stomach is turning, internal organs shutting down. Breaking.I was just never enough for you. alone, alone, aloneRepeats in my mind, now it's me putting on a disguise.Why did I let you leave this permanent scar?
Can you see it in my head hanging low, scaredTo look you in your eyes, You've made me afraid of love, Afraid of another angelic disguise;I would always ask myself, why did you need an other for me to be enough? Anxious. Alone.Heart pumping, beating.
My world is at a constant breaking point, feeling cold, feeling worthless, and abandoned. My body still and scared. Nightmares of apologies haunt my mind, making me feel adored, But only in my mind, only ever dream-love. Walking through these hallways filled with staring faces makes me flutter with anxiety, While all you do is tightly wrap yourself in somebody else's playboy disguise.
Will it end, the disguise?Will my soul ever stop breaking,Will the monster ever let me go, let me feel less anxious..Will I ever not be scared. Will I be loved?Will I not be alone?
You say you want to forget our love--But you'll just throw it to the side and disguise yourself as someone who isn't broken.You'll smirk, forgetting your own anxiously scared and alone mind, never knowing the meaning of love.
Sestina
by Nolan LyleThe rest of the family always claims they have unbiasedOpinions for each and every little reasonI give for wanting to go someplace far away from this unhingedBloodline. The stage light duskedOn my nonsensical and dubious childhood memoryOf when I followed my own feelings of happiness and faith.
My old pals flash through my swollen eyes and their broken faith,Covered in the sweet honey of memory.Little things to grace the headspace no one unbiased To my psyche could dusk.In an attempt to reasonMy mouth appeared to become unhinged
And spill out riposte until emotion unhinges.I question the outright faith Of my own body, the biasOf my head, the memoryOf my feet, and I reasonWith the dusking
Feeling I have for security. Dusk Closes in on my natural, young life lost in faith.The biasI have towards my family does not give me less reasonTo feel like I need to unhinge myself. I would like to say that the memory
Makes me feel more at home, but the memorialThat is my post-adolescent life bleaches reasonTo continue the feeling. I have gone many dusksWithout question, but now it is time to hear the creak of the door unhinging For a final time. I have faith That I will reach someplace where I belong on this Earth made of bias.To start anew, I leave and re-biasMy way of life and my reason.For doing so is of the unhingingOf my current life and my old memory. So I leave my old faith And start and old dusk.
And as the dusk fades other’s faith, Reason for the absence memory unhingesFrom the belief that I no longer exist.
Ordinary Words
By Makiah KennedyWhen I was young, I used to say my favorite color is purple.I have a purple Hydro,and I got these maroon Converse,and I got this very salient pink sweatshirt.My pencils are all colors of the rainbow, they’re Bic. I got brown braids.
I don’t always have braids.It is not my favorite color, purple.I lose all my rainbow Bics.I have two Hydros.I got lots of sweatshirts.I have two pairs of Converse.
Everyone has Converse.Not everyone has braids.Everyone has sweatshirts.My favorite basketball team wears purple.Everyone has Hydros.Everyone has Bics.
My favorite is the blue Bic.I like my white more than I like my maroon Converse.My favorite water bottle is my green Hydro.I don’t always have them, but I like the most, my braids.I still like purple.My favorite is my green curved CALIFORNIA sweatshirt.
Not everyone has my green curved CALIFORNIA sweatshirt.Not everyone has my blue Bic.My favorite color is all of them, especially Purple.Not everyone has my white Converse.Not everyone has my hair for braids.Not everyone has my green Hydro.
It’s special because it was a gift, my green Hydro.It’s special because it’s the trip when I got my green curved CALIFORNIA sweatshirt.It’s special because it’s the knowledge I keep in my braids. It’s special because it’s my only pencil that’s a blue Bic.It’s special because it’s how they got to be my dirty white Converse.It’s special because it was my first favorite, purple.
I don’t always use my purple Hydro.I don’t always wear my white Converse or green curved CALIFORNIA sweatshirt.But it’s because they’re all so special, especially my blue Bic and braids.
Sestina
by Cassidy FreeI didn't know the heartbreak,That we associate with love.Maybe we all just experience lust.But if it is only lust, then why is there pain?What do I do with the remaining butterflies?And what do I do with the memories?
I don't know where to pack away the memories,And I don't know how to deal with the heartbreak.I wish I could make them stop, these butterflies.How am I ever supposed to feel love?When all I know is the pain, That we constantly associate with lust.
How do we define lust?I still remember when you first kissed me, all the good memories,Can never erase the crushing pain.But then I feel myself slowly letting go of the heartbreak,As it becomes replaced with love, And suddenly I never mind the butterflies.
Because they signal something good, these butterflies.I don't think they ever show up with lust,They only ever bother you when you're in love .And when you get them they stay, to make you remember the fond memories,Not the ones we mention in the same breath as heartbreak,And never ever the ones we feel with pain.
Because we don't get to decide if we feel pain,And we don't know when we will get butterflies,And we certainly don't know if we will experience the heartbreak ,That we know now comes with lust.We can't get rid of the memories,Because we can never get rid of the love.
The butterflies are always a sign of love,And maybe we don't want the memories that stay after the heartbreak,Because by now we have learned that lust only brings pain.
Sestina
by Natalie RamosHer face was pale cold and blue.Every time I would pass by,A piece in my heart I would lose,Hoping I’d be able to wave,One last time and see,Her beautiful brown eyes.
All night praying, IUsed her crystal BlueRosary, we could almost seeHer spirit pass by,In each bead that we would waveThrough, her presence we’d start to lose.
The ring on her finger was now loose,Tears wouldn't stop rolling down my eyes,As if they were a waveCrashing on the lonely BlueWater, gently saying bye,Flowing into the infinite Sea.
The tomb is open, I seeEvery one begin to loseThe flower in their hands, byThen everyone's eyesAre now dry, as if the wind blewThe tears off with a wave
I stay back and give one last wave,One last look into the tomb I see,The gray clouds begin to cover the blueSky, not being able to looseMy body, in my EyesI see her, but I have to say bye.
Wishing there was I way I could buyHer back, this grief waveStrikes a pain in my chest, when IApproach the tomb, the “C”Carved into the stone, makes me loseMy mind, and stare into the blue.
I will see you soon, for me it's never a goodbye,I wave one last time, she’ll never loseMe, but I lost those brown eyes and the kiss to me she blew.
Sestina
by Gaby CaballeroThis pain in my soul is sharp,my dreams have been cold,my mind is fragile like glass,i'm drowning in a ocean, I see a balloon popped by a needle,I see blue.
The sky is blue,the piano keys are played sharp,i´m dry like a pine tree needle,the ice is cold,my emotions are waves in the ocean, I broke the glass.
I raised my glass, I am feeling blue,the water hugs my waist in the ocean,the dense air is sharp,my heart is not cold,I was pricked with a needle.
I'm on a fine needle,I stepped on broken glass,the sand is cold,my jeans are blue,the bottle is sharp,the sunset is at the ocean,
The waves whisper to me in the ocean, in my throat I feel a needle,my heart beat is sharp,I see through glass,the ocean isn’t blue,I see grey and feel cold,
Everyone's soul is cold, I want to get sucked in this ocean,I won’t see blue,I won’t feel needles,I won’t drink another glass,nothing will be sharp,
I’m cold in this ocean,I´m feeling sharp needles,and I'm in blue glass.
Time to Break the Black Glass
By Felix ChristiansenPossibly the most powerful entity! In theWorld, is none other than TimeItself. For he can, turn you toDust. he can, make your Bones like glassOne touch. From breakingYou would think his heart Black!
That is a Good Word for him. Blackbecause he does that to theWorld, He Blackens. and BreaksSome have not yet come to terms with the fact that he hurts more than he heals Timeis not GlassHe does not! shatter like You Now want him to
But do you really want him to? XDthe universe would still be an abysmal Blackness!!Light! was a dot *Smaller* than a shard of glassBecause, you know. TheUniverse would not be here without TimeHe was the Creator of Everything that he Broke
I feel like People are Easy to breakand Hard toPlease and over timeThat twists! and darkens! and blackens!Any Human’s perspective of theWorld,,, this Fragile Delicate Thin pane of Glass
Interesting thing GlassA lot of the time people think of glass they think of it BreakingAnd yet! You see it all over theplace. From the biggest building tothe smallest house. Stained, clear, blackthat’s not to say it won’t all Disappear in time
Something that I’ve been meaning to mention for some timenow is some things about glassThere is a Decorative kind called BlackAnd there is an expression about a glass Ceiling? and Breaking it.And *haha* toRise? huh and move Up the
ladder and if you’ve been paying attention you’d notice that timehas been leading up to *Now*. in the world where a ceiling covers us ButIt’s time to break the black glass.