Something More

Author's Note: This is a poem inspired by "The Dandelion" from the Milwaukee Art Museum. When I first saw this sculpture, I immediately felt drawn to it. This piece also got me thinking about how young children are always picking up dandelions and making a wish on them. I experimented with a pattern in the stanzas as well.

It blows through the air

From a wind

A breath

Silently wishing

For something more

They hold a stem

From a field

A hope

Standing alone

Wanting something more

A journey taken

From a seed

A blow

Transforms itself

Into something more

Infinity

Author's Note: This piece is based off of my experience in the Infinity Chamber in the Milwaukee Art Museum. It was a unique experience when I set foot into the glass box. When I entered, I was surrounded by beautiful lights that appeared to stretch on forever. It reflected back everything, with nothing to hide. This gave me the inspiration to write this poem.

Dark as Night

Light as Day

The stars stretch out

And touch my hands

It stretches on

Through the impossibilities

Shows me

A Past

Full of memories

A Present

Full of life

A Future

Full of mystery

Nothing to hide

Nothing to fear

Nothing

And Everything

As I travel through

Infinity

The Catcher

Author's Note: This is my response to "The Catcher in the Rye." I chose to do a fictional piece that is sort of a spin-off of a scene in the book about the main character being "A catcher in the rye." It is about what it would have been like if Holden Caulfield's (the main character) fantasy had come true. I tried to imitate J.D. Salinger's style of writing, and reference different parts of the book. I rewrote the beginning a few times, because it was difficult to use this style of writing. Please leave any comments or criticism you have:

I could tell you why I chose to be a Catcher, but I'm not in the mood to bore you with all that sappy crap about fate and destiny, and how "this job was meant for me." It is, in a way, meant for me, but I just can't explain it, and even if I could, I wouldn't. It's like when you find something you're nuts about, and you can't explain why. It's like that. I just can't explain it, but I know this is what I'm supposed to do.

So, I guess I have to start somewhere. If you've been listening to me from the beginning, you know I got kicked out of old Pencey Prep. They were full of phonies, the whole lot of them. Like they actually cared about a goddam thing about school. All they cared about was what goddam outfit they were going to wear on their date. I can't stand to be around people like that.

I went to New York and stayed at a hotel there for the night. Let me tell you, I won't be stopping there again. After that goddam situation, I stopped for a drink or two at "Ernie's." Not that I really liked the place, but they didn't care how old I was. So I got my cocktails and left. A few days later I was walking along, and I heard this kid singing a song I knew. He really killed me, he really did. The kid wasn't half-bad either. He was walking one the side of the road, just singing "If a body catch a body coming through the rye." I got a big bang out of that. Things like that just kill me.

Anyway, I started thinking about that, and when I talked to old Phoebe at home, asking me about what I wanted to do, this was it. Being a Catcher. Maybe I'm a madman, with this whole fantasy. And asking old Sally Hayes to come run away with me. But maybe I'm supposed to do this. Like I said I can't explain it, but I got to do it.

So, when I left old Phoebe that night, and I gave her my hunting hat, I knew it was for good. I don't know what happened next exactly. Its fuzzy, and I don’t remember much. All I knew is that I was in the museum, and I kind of blanked from there. But then I was here, in the rye field.

I was standing up on the cliff, the one I was thinking about. I was in Colorado, I knew it. I don't remember much how I got there, but its one of those things you just know. It's like when you just know things, without a teacher or a parent or some other phony teaching you. I just knew I was there. The kids were in the rye, playing their games. You could barely see them, just a bunch of little colorful fluffs bobbing up and down in all the rye. I got a big bang out of that.

It was all perfect. The kids would be playing tag, or races or some other game I had never heard of, and when they got to close to the edge, I would catch them, and send them back into the field. Me as the Catcher. It was just like the museum back in New York. I could sit there, watching the kids for days, and nothing would change, just like the museum. No phonies, no nothing to change anything. I could walk away and walk back and nothing would change, just like the museum. They were just running around, the kids I mean. Playing tag, running around like maniacs. It was almost sweet, if you want to know the truth. They reminded me of Phoebe. I really wanted to give her a buzz about now, but I was a Catcher, and I had to catch the kids.

One of them was getting way too close to the edge again when it got later that day. I ran over fast as hell and stopped that kid. "Hey," I said, all authoritative-like. "You can't be here. This is the cliff you see." I motioned to the edge a few yards away.

"She said that we could go wherever we want," said the boy, staring up at me.

This kid was starting to get on my nerves. "Who? I'm the only Catcher here. Everyone knows that. Its just me and you guys in the rye," I said.

"Stop shouting Holden," said the boy, just like Sally.

"Who told you?" I repeated.

"Stop yelling at me!" shouted the boy, starting to cry. "She's in the field talking to us. Go ask her!"

The kid ran back into the rye field. I went in after him, trying not to get my yellowness take me over. I was a Catcher, after all. I know I'm pretty yellow about confrontations, but this was different. I'm the big one around here. So anyway, when I finally caught up to the boy, all the kids were all huddled in a group around someone. I straightened up, authoritative as hell, and said "Hey, all right come out. Who do you think you are, telling them they can go by that cliff? I'm the Catcher."

"Holden!" cried Phoebe.

I swear, my mouth literally dropped to the ground. It sounds corny, but it really did. "Phoebe? What are you doing here? I told you that you can't come with me!"

"Holden, when are you going to get it through your head? You can't stay here, and neither can they," she gestured to the other kids. "Let them go to the cliff. You should go too."

"No, NO I WON'T!" I screamed. "Just go back to playing your games! I'm the goddam Catcher. Go back!"

Phoebe looked at me real hard, and I noticed she was still wearing my hunting hat. The point was in the back, like I used to wear it. It looked good that way on Phoebe. She walked up to me real slowly, and took off the hat. Her eyes started to water. I just hate that when Phoebe cries. It's weird, if you want to know the truth. It just makes me so sad and confused, because Phoebe's the best person I know, and if she cries it's just…wrong.

When she was finally standing in front of me, I bent down and told her real sternly, "Come on Phoebe. Put the hat back on. Stay here if you want, just don't go to the cliff."

She looked back at me, and shoved the hat in my hands real fast. I was pretty confused now. Before I could even speak, she ran right past me, in the direction of the cliff. The other kids, the whole lot of them, ran after her.

"NO!" I screamed. Now I was crying too. Balling, just like when I left Phoebe that night. I ran after her, fast as hell, screaming all the way.

They were all standing in a line, by the edge of the cliff, the kids I mean. They looked like soldiers, all lined up and ready for battle. I would have got a big bang out of it if I weren't a Catcher. Phoebe was all the way to the right of them. I was still crying real hard. I just wanted this to stop. This wasn't supposed to be Phoebe, or the other kids, or me. This was for phonies, for the adults, for Mr. Antolini, for old Spencer! I was done with all this crap a long time ago, when I was with all those phonies and people who didn't give one goddam thought about what I thought.

I didn't know it, but old Phoebe was staring at me the whole time. She then glanced at the rest of the kids, who all jumped off that goddam cliff I was supposed to protect.

"No don't! What the hell are you doing?" I cried, my knees buckling to the ground. It sounds pretty sappy I know, like in those films where the actors just fall down and cry when their heart gets broken, or they hear bad news. I'm not sappy, ever, but I was then. Old Phoebe was still there, staring at me. Then she finally said, "It's time to grow, Holden. I have to, and so do you." She walked up to me, and gave me a hug. I was still crying real hard, just like the night I left. Phoebe looked at me real sadly, then jumped off, too.

"Phoebe!" I screamed. This was my only job, the only one I every wanted, and now it was gone, like Phoebe. They were all gone, everyone, but me. I fell down and laid there, in the rye, crying, and screaming Phoebe's name, over, and over again, until I fell asleep.

Forever Changing

Author's Note: This was a stream of consciousness I did.  I took this idea off of a word association.  It deals with the seasons, but I tried to incorporate a different way of looking at it as well.  Please let me know what you think:   

 

Forever fluctuating through time, 

Life changes

As we do.

Temperatures change,

The faint ring of a school bell,

Breath no longer hidden,

Leaves darken from green to red,

red to orange,

orange to yellow,

falling down from trees. 

Brisk chills go

up down,

up down,

my spine. 

Dark in the morning,

dark in the afternoon,

and leaves fall away. 

Flurries, cold.

Flurries, cold. 

Snow,

falling gently out of the sky.

Snowflakes. 

Different shapes,

sizes,

designs that show nature's beauty. 

The white,

pounds down,

cakes houses,

driveways,

roads. 

When it seems all is never ending,

Never changing,

Sun comes out of cloud,

streaming through like The Light,

Snow finally melts away  

A new beginning,

A new life.

Flowers bloom,

birds sing their songs,

The rebirth of life.

As the cycle continues,

Forever changing,

Forever living,

We continue on,

Forever.

Stream of Consciousness: City

Author's note: This is a stream of consciousness I did recently. When I did this, I thought of Milwaukee, with all the skyscrapers, buildings, and ramps. I also thought a little of New York City, and how it is "the city that never sleeps." I tried to use some repetition in this piece.

Looming giants fill the streets,

We appear as ants,

Ants appear as nothing,

Skyscraper after skyscraper cut into the sky,

Clouds feel closer than their tips,

Different ramps wind within each other like snakes.

We ride up and down and around,

Seemingly endless roads,

Walking around, the scene ablaze with activity,

Civilians hustling from work to home and back again,

Taxis pop out more frequently than cars do,

Going to and from,

From and to,

Ride up, up, up the elevator,

Walk up, up, up the stairs,

At the top of the giant,

I feel so small,

So out of place,

On top of the world it seems,

I can see it all.

Building to building,

City to city, place to place,

The world feels in my reach.

Windy, cloudy, sunny, I can find it all.

So different up here, like floating.

Then we stop,

Sucked into the city itself,

Like we are one.

The Unavoidable Feeling

Author's Note: During Language arts, I couldn't decide what to write about. Then I realized how hungry I was, because this class is right before lunch. This poem describes this feeling.


Working hard,

On the computer,

I notice something,

That should be helped sooner,

A lion-like growl,

Erupts from my tummy.

It's then I realize,

I need something yummy.

Seconds ticking by,

Seems more like hours.

I can't take it much longer,

I don't have those powers.

Then the bell breaks the quiet,

Just like a car horn's blast.

Sitting in the lunchroom,

I'm cured at last.

Finally Here

Author's Note: This poem is based off of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.  It's supposed to show how Harry's life starts out disappointing and ambiguos, but it all changes when Hagrid takes him away to be a student at the magical school called Hogwarts.

After years of dreaming,

After years of despair,

After years of feebleness,

It's finally here.

I searched for an answer,

I searched for a chance,

I searched for a solution,

That's finally here.

Taken away from misery,

Taken away from longing,

Taken away from pain,

I'm finally here.

Now I have friendship,

Now I have hope,

Now I have opportunity,

Home is finally here.

Can You Raed Tihs?

And yes, I know it's spelled wrong....

Tehre hvae been ltos of tiems in our lievs wehn taehcers hvae mraked us wrnog on qusetinos becasue we mispseleld a wrod. Somteiems the resaon we dind't get as hgih of a socre is becasue of tihs. Splelnig can be a rael prolbem for smoe pepole, but are thsoe taehcers raelly corerct?

I'm a decnet spleler, but I stlil dno't lkie it. A whlie ago, I saw somtehing on the copmuter that was prtety itneretsing. Acocrdnig to profesosrs at Cabrmidge Unviresity, spleling dosen't wrok the way we thnik it deos. Tehy say taht as lnog as the frist and lsat lteter of a wrod styas the smae, the inisde odrer of the letetrs dno't mtater. So deos taht maen taht we hvae been wrnog tihs enitre tmie?

Myabe spleling ins't as improtant as we thoguht. The olny thnig wtih tihs is, olny 55% of pepole can raed wrods tihs way, prboably becasue thye're so uesd to seieng it how it's "supopsed" to be. So tlel me, can you raed tihs?


If you can't read that above, this is what it translates to:

There have been lots of times in our lives when teachers have marked us wrong on questions because we misspelled a word. Sometimes the reason we didn't get as high of a score is because of this. Spelling can be a real problem for some people, but are those teachers actually correct?

I'm a decent speller, but I still don't like it. A while ago, I saw something on the computer that was pretty interesting. According to professors at Cambridge University, spelling doesn't work the way we think it does. They say that as long as the first and last letter of a word stays the same, the inside order of the letters don't matter. So does that mean that we have been wrong this entire time?

Maybe spelling isn't as important as we thought. The only thing with this is, only 55% of people can read words this way, probably because they're so used to seeing it how it's "supposed" to be. So tell me, can you read this?

Paradise

Author's Note: My inspiration for this came from my past trips to Florida, and what the experience was like.

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Stone: Stream of Consciousness

Author's Note: This was a stream of consciousness I had. It doesn't have a point to it.

I look down 1,000 ft below me, into the livid river. My harness straps tightly around me, binding me to the chord attached to the ledge. With a scream that could be heard from the heavens, I plummet down, down, down, my face inches away from the stoney mountainside. Seconds before the water tears me apart, the chord springs me back up. I heave a sigh of relief, knowing I'm able to live for at least one more day.

Epic Skiing Fail

A couple days ago, I went on the ski trip to Sunburst. I was actually skiing pretty okay for me, (which was a miracle) until we decided to race down a hill called the "snow bowl." So we where going down, and I was doing fine, but then I made too sharp of a turn. One ski came flying off near the top of the hill, and as I was tumbling down, the other ski came off near the bottom. When I figured out I was alive, I grabbed my ski and trudged all the way back up to find my other ski. By that time, Everyone else was already riding up on the lift. It was an epic fail on my part.

Rain

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Stream of Consciousness: Fire

Flames lick every inch of the floor, which disintegrates in seconds. I struggle to esape as thick smoke clouds my vision. Flooring is collapsing around me faster and faster with every heaving breath I take. I hear crying off in the distance: my mother's. I head towards her sobs, battling through the rubble. Finally, after the difficult fight, the house admits defeat, and caves in. I rush to my family, tears cascading down my filthy cheeks. My mom holds me tight as we all begin to bawl together.

Spring Will Come

It seems hopeless, that spring will ever come,
With the weather so cold and the snow so thick,
And my skin caked with layers,
Still doesn't always do the trick.
The air so icy,
And the ground so unsteady,
I begin to wonder
If spring will ever be ready.
But the sun does come out,
And the wind does stop.
Snow doesn't always fall,
But on occasion, there is a raindrop.
Grass gets uncovered,
And the snow isn't so high,
Leaves on trees begin to bloom
Out of the corners of my eye.
When the snow melts away,
And the air isn't so bad
A smile creeps over my face,
Because finally, finally,
Spring has come to take winter's place.

Road

Endlessly, endlessly, Pavement stretches across the countryside.
Slowly, slowly, I walk, making the journey as long as I possible can, not wanting to miss a thing. Surely, surely, there's a way to hold on, make it go on forever. But unavoidably, unavoidably, this road will end. But the end, it doesn't mean the end; its only the start of a new beginning.