Archive for Thursday, November 26, 1998


November 26, 1998


These Chinese poems were written by students in Joy Clumsky's creative writing class at Lawrence High School. The poems explore the writer's inner and outer worlds.

Mother Earth

The early fall's rumble

Startles me awake.

Breathlessly, I stare up

To the ceiling above me,

And I allow

The warmth of my bed

My tired soul to protect.

The rain shoots pellets

At my window

As though trying

The glass to shatter.

Like a frightened hare,

I lie transfixed.

A tree branch

Scratches my window,

Begging to come in.

No stars can be seen

And no angels heard,

But, by morning's hour,

Mother Earth

Will have drunk

Her sweet wine.

-- Sommer Heiserman

Words Exit

Across words

I stumble slowly;

That which flowed

Rhythmically in my mind

Now scrapes against granite

Across my stiff mouth.

The words sourly exit

With only a whisper

As loud

As panthers' paws

And as fast

As falling light,

Along with my hope

The words will reach you.

-- Michael Jaiser


In a cold sweat, I listen to her voice

As she describes the nightmares

Of life since her mother died.

Her soul is a wilted flower,

Left for too long without love.

The friendly light of the moon

No longer penetrates the darkness.

Clouds linger long outside the window,

Bringing with them a bitter chill.

Is that a chill I feel in the air,

Or do I sense the cold fear

That stabs through her heart?

Her mother's death hurts me,

Even as it kills her.

The soul-shredding agony of death

Has yet to pierce my heart,

But vicarious death

Is hard enough for me to bear.

-- Shannon Curry


Comes night,

I sit on the attic floor,

Going through my father's old things.

The moon's light creeps

Through the window's shutters,

Leaving a dim-lit shadow on the floor.

A cool breeze of air kisses my cheek

And passes over my shoulders.

An angel appears before me

Telling me to let go,

Let go.

-- Latrice Flowers

Jack Frost's Kingdom

I see you,

My evil one,

In the throne room

Of your palace.

The skylight beams

Upon your icy reign.

Touch the things

You do,

And the chill is sent

From the pigeons

Among the jeweled earth.

I remember

The days long ago;

I had loved you then.

Now, Father Time

Has handed his wand

To you.

It is inevitable

That frozen you must rule

Over the towers,



-- Monica Wiggins


I sit here

Atop my tree house

And look out over my pond.

The grass is damp

With leaves as a carpet.

The air is hushed,

With only a few sparrow's offerings.

The air is cool and crisp

With the sun dropping to the west.

The pond ripples

From a frog's last leap.

The leaves, a deep orange and red,

Hold me,

Telling me not to go.

All of nature knows

That tonight the first frost will fall,

And I will not be back

'Til blossoms come on again.

-- Casey Tedrow

Commenting has been disabled for this item.