POEM 17
Note: I received 20 copies of "Poem 17" from the class. Applause for all 20of you.
**Tulip Finds They’re Circling the Drain
Tulip stands at the rail of a small boat,
Unsettled water roiling, churning
Against itself with unending meaninglessness,
Palms slicked with sweat, Tulip can only watch
As the dry land seems to spin around them
Like a shark, fin above water,
Then Tulip calls their father, the captain. They always do.
They've never known who else to call.
Before diverting back into the vortex swirling all around Tulip.
**Merry Hates the Summer (Maggie)
(After Danna Ephland)
because nothing good comes out of it,
not when the sun is hot
as an infected pustule
while the day gluts up the night.
Merry gets angry when people talk
about how nice today is
as if it’s a universal, god-given fact
that everyone likes the feeling
of their brain and body being boiled,
feeling limp, stupid, useless
as a dried-up worm on the sidewalk.
Merry especially hates when people
rub it in her face
that she’s different,
the sun draining her energy.
Headache, fatigue, gross sticky skin
it takes too much effort to wash from the body,
so she starts going to sleep
in day clothes
she only has to change once a day.
The worst offender was that year
that the A/C broke
in hundred-degree weather
for an entire week,
the whole house stank of humidity
but her parents only said,
“This is what it was like back in the day.”
But why does that even matter?
it’s not like she was alive back then!
**Zeus’s offspring (Francine Coffer)
The three daughters of Zeus all saw him differently.
The oldest sister recalls Zeus’s wrath.
She witnessed his threats,
those not directed at her, but at her ex-husband.
She wonders about the past, if he had
just talked to her, if he had just supported her
would things have been different?
The second oldest sister recalls the best
version of Zeus. Where he was kind and smiling
with her after a long day at work.
She cries that Zeus was the best, that he
was a hero to her. She regales everyone with tales
of the joys from childhood as music plays.
The youngest daughter recalls the drunk
Zeus, when he smelled of beer and
would yell at the drop of a hat.
She will not tell those stories
this time, however, surrounded by people
crying, tears falling from her face.
Mourning for the only dad she ever knew.
The three daughters say goodbye to Zeus.
**WHO WAS SHE (Ava)
They called her “Schrock”, “Gracie Girl”, “Grace”, and “Ave”
Every name with a different meaning, made up by a different person.
No one knew her name, just her face.
Invisible. That’s what she felt, everyone knew her, but no one really knew her.
Her parents grew up in this town walking the same halls,
Driving the same roads.
Teachers knew her as “Schrock”,
Friends knew her as “Ave”,
Family knew her as “Grace”.
She looked like them, strangers picked her out in the grocery store
But never because of who she was.
It was because of who they were.
No one really knew her
Sometimes it felt good to know these “strangers” in the store
Knowing someone knew where she came from.
But sometimes she wished she could go into town without seeing a soul.
The knowingness of everything made her feel so comfortable
But a new place also seemed exciting.
There is so much more than just Indiana--
A whole world out there to explore.
New people, new places, new experiences
Where nobody would know her name or her face.
*LOU GOES BACKPACKING (Gracie)
Lou studies maps
like they might
provide answers.
She folds and unfolds them,
working the same creases
until the paper softens at the edges.
Lou carries everything on her back.
The straps dig into her shoulders
as she moves through cities.
It seems like motion alone is a kind of plan.
She walks fast,
as if there’s always somewhere better ahead.
The cobblestones are uneven
under her worn shoes,
and her eyes take everything in--
storefronts,
street signs,
the faces that don’t look back.
Strangers give directions
pointing left, then right.
They smile as if it matters that Lou might find her way.
Lou nods and keeps moving.
She never stays long enough
to belong anywhere.
*The Patent Foramen Ovale of Vindo (Vinny W)
Vindo is tired of existing sometimes
Having ended up on the cusp of oblivion.
His entire life changed from one trip.
Diagnosis? Hole in the heart.
Patent Foramen Ovale.
Hit him fast and hard.
Stroked out mid excursion.
Just like that, everything changed.
Stroke, followed by a head on collision.
Six days spent in a coma.
Flailed chest, broken pelvis,
Shattered right foot,
Both knees completely destroyed.
Both hands broken,
Left side: unresponsive.
Two months in a hospital bed,
Followed by two months in rehab,
Followed by another four months bedridden.
Walking seemed like a distant memory,
Something he would never experience again.
MRSA, sepsis, neurological Armageddon,
He went through it all.
Somehow, he’s still here,
It wasn’t his time to go just yet...
How do you come back from all that?
All four limbs: useless for months.
His left leg is still just for show.
His scars tell stories that feel unbelievable.
His chest cracked open and operated on.
An entire year of hell.
But he’s still here, he’s still pushing
Through constant pain,
An unresponsive leg,
Severe brain damage,
And a laundry list of other issues.
Medical bankruptcy,
Over a thousand pages of recorded
Procedures, operations, and attempted solutions,
Most caused by a microscopic hole
That no one could see.
By the time it was discovered,
It was already too late.
Vindo’s life had changed forever.
Three years of intense physical therapy later,
He can walk again.
Resembling Frankenstein’s monster,
He is covered in scars,
As he hobbles around like a newborn.
It was a rebirth, in a sense.
An involuntary one, but a rebirth, nonetheless.
A real rock-bottom experience,
And one he crawled out of.
The damage has been done though.
His new “normal” is an unfamiliar hell,
Sometimes he wonders if he'd be better off dead.
But there is still beauty left in the world,
Love to be shared.
So, he persists.
Not because he has to,
But because he wants to.
Life is funny that way,
It seems like the harder his got,
The easier it was for him to keep going.
Cheddar’s Way (April 24, 2026) (Cesar)
It was blistering out and especially humid
Way too hot to be outside.
Cheddar always liked the outdoors.
He loved spending time with his family
Until it became too extreme to handle.
It was torturous for Cheddar; he could never do it his way.
Short, sweet hikes were promised to him.
12 hours of feet bleeding, callous-inducing hikes.
He melts under the excruciating heat.
Begging to go back home.
His screams grow silent over time.
Like an abandoned puppy on the side of the road
Cold even while basking under the sun
Cheddar’s family lying about him
“Oh he’s such a weakling.” If only they knew of the abuse
He wonders why people don’t listen to children
Even when they seek help.
Go back in time to never being born, it’s all their fault.
Victims blamed them for their suffering.
The world is cruel
Or is the world filled with idiots?
Seek revenge or take a stand
Become the Arkham night.
*Who will Watch the Watchmen? — Garrett Redding
Arbitrating was not a simple matter,
less so in the context of the recent peace.
Judge Briar was in the balcony, staring away
into the sunset of the light and dark,
not a conflict in the sky, but of two old friends
doing their dance across the cosmos.
Though the Judge thought, there is no dance here.
It’s hard to see in the darkness,
and when one can hardly judge themselves,
how might one judge others? Judge Briar held
the gelato against the side of his dish with his spoon.
Just two months ago this delicacy
was “the enemy”; he was there for the boycott.
But now he rested inside their walls, he washed
in their baths, laughed amongst them,
partook in their offered cuisine.
It was getting cold out now.
The defendant was by no means innocent,
that was for certain, but must he be hanged?
People get sucked into things, just as the Judge
had been taken to one little corner of Italy.
“Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?”
Some would call the defendant Judge Briar’s foil,
but that was not true. What he couldn’t get past
was that this man was only him with the pieces
moved around a bit. Had he not condemned
good men to their deaths as well?
Had he not represented his own country’s interest
in coming out here in the first place?
The gelato was sludge now, and the sunset
Had all but passed. “You require another, sir?”
the attendant asked. The Judge did not respond,
but held his palm out, before ruffling his garb
And retiring to his quarters for the night.
*Julien Skips Class (Olivia)
Julien would crank his neck
to the left, piercing the water
of the iridescent pool.
Clusters of roly-polies
relied on his heroism
to play dead in the grass
rather than the depths of a
five-foot eight water bath.
Julien had busted his head
in that same piss-stained
pool, from the carelessness
of a boyfriend’s shallow-ended
cannonball. He rattled the brains
he had left to piece together
anger-filled memories. It was
only because of the damage
to his thinker, that he could
no longer make it past high
school. But who wouldn’t prefer
sweet-smelling kitchen air,
or harmonic blends of laughter,
over sweaty desks and elbows.
FACTORY (Ezra)
Have you ever worked in a factory?
a soul-sucking experience, for sure,
I worked in one for 6 months
and came out a solid 25 years older
The movies have somehow managed to glorify factories
The floors aren't shiny; they are stained and chipped
Small booths suck up the metal
that then floods your lungs
the people around you become feral ghouls
looking to suck any resemblance of hope or joy out of the day
Dark hallways and white brick everywhere
Walls wrap around your brain like a straitjacket
Tan metal lockers house your phone
due to “China can't steal our proprietary secrets”
Pipes span walls and ceilings proudly labeled “MAY CONTAIN ASBESTOS”
Once you get a good look everything is labeled toxic
How much time did I lose there?
I talked to someone about this place once.
They compared it to Gotham city and
Called it “diabolical.”
Long drive (Marisol)
She’s always driving around everywhere
On cloudy and sunny days
Where grocery runs consume
Her weekend alone time
Her dad hates driving
So the car is her escape
Through streets and fields
A mobile world became
Her world, washing away
The daily strain--
Silent journeys at sunrise
Past sleepy towns
Her thoughts unspooling
A river that never stops
She navigates curves
And potholes with instinct
A restless soul, she’s searching
For something. The Bluetooth
Connection cackles and glitches
With a final hum. Then the long drive
Comes to an end. She’s back home
The engine’s hum still echoing,
A phantom drive keeps her going,
Putting her heart to the test
The Chair (Megan)
Marci sat in the chair.
It was cushioned and would
have been comfortable in
any other situation.
But not today.
Today she sat and cried
into her mother's shirt,
her tears making stains.
It was supposed to be a good day.
But now she will never know
if her life will be the same again.
Forever altered.
Just like the loss of a loved one.
Or realizing you’ll never
obtain your dream no matter
how hard you worked for it.
Marci can barely think of what
is to come next. There's
too much happening for
her to keep up.
Too much pain, too much panic.
Too much of the unknown.
Maybe one day she’ll be okay.
But now, everything is broken.
Feels Like Home
Again (Canye)
Bartholomew wakes up
before the sun fully settles in
not to an alarm or anything
but to birds arguing outside his window
sounding like Alvin and the Chipmunks
(his favorite movie).
the TV is already on,
low volume cartoons,
colors flickering against the wall
from the kitchen—
he hears oil popping
the smell of chicken
and something sweet.
he stays in bed a
little longer
listening
the house talking without him
it’s the most soothing
thing
he’s heard in years.
footsteps move down
the hallway
slowly,
somewhat familiar.
His door opens
“Boy get up, I got
breakfast almost ready
and your clothes are set out”
he doesn’t answer
right away
just sits there for a second
letting it all settle in.
the smell reaches him
again
before he even stands
he walks out slow
like rushing would ruin it.
the plate is already
waiting
Pbs kids still
playing.
siblings bickering over who can eat more.
morning light slipping through the blinds.
he eats without saying
much
everything feels the
same
in the best way
like nothing is
missing
and nothing needs to be found anymore.
Timor’s Sway & Creak (Pancho)
Timor swiftly exits, lugging--
Heavy with dying--his frantic thoughts.
As wind swirls heavily past him,
He jingles and pads his keys and wallet.
Stappling and stapling them to himself,
As doubts creep in like ants on his back.
He doubles back to the doors he’s closed.
Tugging and pulling on the handles,
As if checking the sturdiness.
Testing the boards of his reality,
Whether or not his reality is true.
As if the wind blows and shows,
How forgetful he is.
As he nails in and satisfies his doubts.
As he journeys back on a firm board.
A board that creaks and sways,
With wind grabbing and tugging.
Asking if he got his papers and computer.
He frustratingly answered yes,
He had already checked what was true.
He arrived at last and sat down,
Cooling down from the hurried walk.
He awaits the beginning of the instructions.
He bends down to grab what's needed.
Fevering with new heat.
Toppling his wooden boards
Crashing what was thought to be sturdy enough.
He forgot his laptop.
The Mind Of Grace (Zoie)
It was Grace’s third period class,
she had found safety inside a room that
smelt of teen depression. She sat
in the front row scrolling through videos
of god knows what. “Gracie, what do
you think about this?” a flash of light in front
of her eyes. When the school bell
rang Ms. Teacher said, “Okay class,”
she knows. The ceiling lights made a soft
humming sound.
The teacher’s words started melting away
until all that was left was her thoughts.
Her brain spilled tales of grandeur
and glory, loss and gain.
On and on it was a constant creation,
Consciousness seeming so far away
from the classroom. Yet the mind kept spinning
and forming, so moldable, like clay...
Then the bell rang again signaling the end
of class. Suddenly the humming was back
and Grace knows exactly where she is.
Then she realizes that, for the life of her,
Grace cannot remember anything that was taught.
Not a single word.
“She is me” (Nehemiah)
Everyone thinks they found love
Most of the time lust is confused for love
I love you I love you too but nothing is really there
She didn't experience that though
If she knew anything she knew that he loved her
She never had to question it
No matter how much they argued
No matter how many times they broke up
She knew his love was real
He didn't have much to give her material wise but the love was more than there
Everyone could see it
But material things didn't matter to her
He uplifted her confidence
He spoke life into her and that's all she really cared about
His love did more than any necklace could
More than any ring could more than any card clothes shoes purse or ride could
More than a million-dollar house
Because his love was real and she knew it
He told her how she was special and special to everyones life
And he loved her and how much good she brought to the world
He told her to go show them go show the world how special she was
How he would spend the rest of his life with her and that he did
He left this earth and she didnt second guess anything
She knew what they had was more than real
She wish she had more time with him
The love of her life
Though he's gone his love stayed and that no one could ever take away
WILLOW PICKS HER SWITCH (Haley)
Willow runs her hands through greasy shag
Carpet. Dog hair gathers in the recesses and fleas
Jump from fiber to fiber.
Willow itches her palms.
The tree outside waves at her
Through the misty window
Beckoning her to climb its branches
And she obliges of course
The bark tugs at her skin
Scrapes it off the elbow
and sends microscopic waterfalls
of blood dribbling down her arm
she doesn’t care.
The canopy feels like home
Willow misses her childhood.
The woods feel enchanted
And otherworldly, even though
She always came home scraped up
By sticker bushes
I think she intentionally
Forgets the memories that crush
Her. She wants the pain to
Diminish so she cloaks it with
Accomplishment and busy work.
But in the dark of night, she boils
Over. Willow faces the truth in her dreams.
A Hug That Melts (Autumn) (Very sweet poem)
Mountains are High and valleys are low,
But the heights and depths of humans are intangible. The man was big and dirty.
His hair gray and patchy
along with his facial hair.
His voice was deep and stern
Like it had been broiling in years
of severity. But then along came Betty
short in stature and with a wide smile.
Her soft voice piercing the depth
of even the hardest souls.
Betty broke down walls,
and when this gruff old man
came in, Betty broke down his walls.
She enveloped him in her embrace,
And he seemed so small in the arms
Of Betty, who knew the heart
of every person she ever met.
And every time that man came in
He always hurried to see Betty,
And fall inter her hug that made him melt.
It’s All Wrong (Mar'te)
He dreads going into that place.
Dreads turning the key in the ignition
and getting screamed at for the small mistake
he may have caused. Get into position
once again, hearing the voices of those
that one never wants to hear more than a few times.
He never imagined this is where he’d be.
Looking out the window gorgeous weather wishing
he could enjoy. But instead he’s breathing in
the nauseous air he’s breathed in hundreds of
times at this point. This was not how life should be,
being stuck inside sounds of beeps, sizzling and
people yelling out the name of foods he’s grown
to hate seeing or even thinking about. This man
he imagines freedom, a break from the pattern.
His dream to create and be recognized for anything
to feel that the true dreams he has matter. This reality
feels wrong. Not intended to happen. Which is why he is here,
why he is he stuck and why does this feel like a trap?
When the day ends, the anxiety softens, but the thought
of returning is always lingering. The dream of freedom,
the dream of happiness is just within reach.
Even if it’s not correct, it’s not the right place.
Maybe this place will lead to letting his dreams run free.
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