8th Grade Poetry

 

Jocelyne Lioe, 0ctober 2020

There once was a girl:

She was beautiful.

With soft dark skin and thick black hair.

A perfect smile and eyes full of care.

Honey filled laugh and small button nose.

Her blush the same shade as a freshly picked rose.

Everyone loved her because of her perfection.

A sugar-sweet girl, a delicacy, a confection.

No one dared harm, cheat, or hurt her.

Whoever it was, no matter who they were.

She was beautiful,

But mutable.

With rough pale skin and hair in a mess.

Her lips chapped and eyes full of stress.

A dull grey shade clouded her eyes as if the sun was covered in the sky.

Everyone loved her despite of her flaws.

Her voice was silent, though no one knew the cause.

She was beautiful,

But removable.

With sharp scaly skin and long silky locks.

Her lips a dark red and eyes a ticking clock.

Her laugh was silent when she tried to make a sound.

No one could hear her, not even a hound.

Everyone feared her because of her differences.

Screams of terror followed her images.

She was beautiful

But usable.

A silent step.

A silent breath.

A silent heart.

A silent start.

A perfect girl, with beauty beyond the mortal eye.

But to say that now I would be telling a lie.

Her eyes are lined with dark tears, the water dripping down her thin cheeks.

Her mouth sewed together, cursed to be silent, never to speak.

She was beautiful.

Until you found her.

Cold hard hands slip into yours as she leads you down the hall.

A scene of a girl in a gown flashes in your eyes, a beautiful ball.

A flowing white dress and flower crown on her head.

She smiles, admiring the ring on her hand.

The dark comes as fast as the rumors spread.

The whispering voices, as you’re filled with dread.

Their words poison your mind,

For now you can't accept her kind.

She was beautiful.

Until you thought she was renewable.

You killed her voice, shut her away from the people.

She cries quietly every night in the cold steeple.

Now she roams the lands searching for a voice.

Stealing it from the people who don't have a choice.

A silent chill echoes in the air.

To break that silence? No one would dare.

Then you make yourself clearly known.

Beware of the silent woman.

For she was once beautiful.

Until she was silenced.

Grey Limbo

The Warning

By: Jocelyne Lioe, November 2020

The sun had begun to set, turning the sky into a swarm of dark, dangerous colors. The lemonade pink clouds stood out from the violet background as it slowly faded to a peach color surrounding the sun. It was a beautiful evening, with golden yellow stars that twinkled dimly as the sunset began. Despite it all, no one stopped to enjoy it. 
To those who cared, there was a striking masterpiece above them, crafted beautifully for them to see. To those who do not concern themselves with such things, see a gray sky blending into a void of darkness.
Tall and short trees alike billowed in the wind, rich green leaves blowing off the dark branches. A hint of orange could be seen deep inside the layers of the tree as the outer leaves left for the wind. A small glimpse that could infer that fall was coming. Dead leaves littered the ground, crunching every time anyone stepped over them. 
It was a busy day then. The roads were full of people, as they rushed to wherever they were going. Shades of gray clumped together until no one could be told apart. 
Gentlemen in their suits, men in their scraps. Ladies in their gowns, women in their rags. Young masters in their robes, servants in their livery. Short, tall, big, small. Everyone's the same when no one pays attention. 
The buildings around the town square sagged from the weight of its age. Rusty pipes hung off the walls as the cracked windows held on for dear life. Dim lights shone from the dusty glass, filling the streets below with a soft yellow glow. The light post began to flicker on one by one, creating light for the world.
The train’s whistle blew, the sounds echoing in the air. The wind carried the note around the bustling city, filling the people’s ears. 
To some, it was a simple signal of the train coming, or a reminder that they were leaving soon. But to those who understood its warning, it was something completely different. It was a reminder, an alert, a sign. Something was going to happen. Just wait for it.

 
Tropical Beach

A Little Messed Up

By: Kamaria Johnson, November 2020

I'm a little messed up
as the wind blows 
so do my thoughts
as I sit to the nature before me 
I get a little messed up
Who am I to doubt you
Who am I to be worthy of you
Who am i to question you
I over-think
though i'm just a child 
my mind wanders
as if an adult
But as i put in more faith
hope
love
and happiness
the mind i declared as
"a little messed up" 
is growing more plain vanilla
Now is that good or bad?

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@2020 All work was produced by the Thurgood Marshall Omni lit Club

Most background photos from Unsplash.com and Wix.com.