Category: Poetry

by Whoever

 

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Bio: include

By Justin Rifner

Under the ocean blue,
and cast from sight.
Is a place where you,
will find no light.

Where ships do sink,
and creatures creep.
Hidden inside the brink,
all you need is to take the leap.

One ship still stands.
Despite all odds,
the captain asks a show of hands.
Because of merciless Gods,

on a cold winter night
the ship had lost its will to fight.

“The monster inside”
My enemy is
Only to be found inside
The depths of my mind

 

Bio: I am currently both a full time student and a full time employee. I work full time as a team leader at Chick-Fil-A where I have been employed for a total of three years. As a student, I am currently working on an Associates in Arts degree which I will transfer to USF sarasota into a Bachelors of Science in Information Technology. I draw inspiration from stories that I have been told in the past, both nautical and fantasy, and like to combine those elements with the harsh reality of the world to bring about a lasting impression.

 

By Richard Fairbanks

What am I writing?
I don’t rightly know,
With no words to write,
No things to show.

If college-ruled paper,
Could write on itself,
A hundred grand stories,
Would litter my shelf.

But alas! words escape,
They dwindle and die,
Not so very frequent,
As stars in the sky.

If pen touches page,
And ink doesn’t flow,
The words have no story,
No colors to show.

So what do I write?
Well nothing at all,
A poem I write,
I know not what to call.

By Gonzo

My grandmother’s father has
a cousin who kept a diary.
On it is scribbled an odd looking star
and the first word in it is “Agony.”

It tells of seeing the body of his brother
mangled and pale in the snow
as a German soldier shouted out
“You reap what you sow.”

He lived on scraps from the table
taking their sad dog’s place.
Soon enough they ate the dog, too.
His mom told him to eat at a slow pace.

There are a few words about a camp
with a drawing of a high metal fence.
His uncle left a month before he did and
he learned why they hadn’t heard from him since.

There is a great deal of talk
of being sore and rather cold
and sharing beds with six other boys
as the floor was reserved for the old.

A page is torn out in the middle
and I later learn why.
It was used as a bandage when
his former grocer lost his eye.

He made it out alive
sometime the following year.
Though his mother was lost he was
strong for his father and shed not a tear.

 

Bio: My name is Logan Gonzalez and I am a freshman at SCF Bradenton Campus. I’m currently trying to obtain my A.A. and figure out what I want to do as far as a major. I have a great love for writing and have been something of a story-teller for as long as I can remember. I’ve used those skills for making up excuses as to why I’ve been late to class or forgot a friend’s birthday in the past, but hopefully wish to make a career with them some day.

By Clint Theron

Whispering wonderfully, we reminisce over the time
when you were casually mooning
over that Mexican boy wearing a green
hoodie.  Hur-rawr-doh?  I never can pronounce it right.
It beats lying sprawled out on the couch, eating Sun Chips
and getting stoned.

But hey, I don’t throw stones,
and if you ever make the time
for me, we should go out and get some fish and chips.
Or play miniature golf when the moon
is bright, like when we were kids.  But right
now I’m lurking outside your house in my green

Ford Escort.  Just kidding, I’m not that green
with envy.  Instead, I’m at the beach, kicking pebbles and stones
with someone less entertaining than you and pretending everything is all right.
I look at my watch to see the time.
Midnight?  The moon
is way too bright, it burns my flesh.  I need ice chips

to cool my temperature.  I realize you’re a chip
off the old block, you dyed your hair green
to rebel, like your mother did when she listened to The Dark Side of the Moon
to her parents’ dismay.  Now she rocks to The Rolling Stones
when she thinks no one is looking.  Ashamed to defy time
because it’s just not right

for a 50 year old woman to sway left and right
to the tunes of yesteryear.  It must have chipped
away at you to realize you’ve been so similar all this time.
But now you’re living with Hur-rawr-doh in his green
house and picking out matching Tombstones
when you haven’t even had your Honeymoon.

There was that night when the moon
was full, and we sat right
on top of your car and wondered who built Stonehenge,
and who was the better rodent: Chip
or Dale?  And if we would see the grassy green
European plains tomorrow, or some time.

The moon shines all the same with craters like chocolate chips,
but we were right not to eat them, we’ve already eaten those green
éclairs.  And like a stone wall, our friendship is weathered but sturdy with time.

 

Bio: Clint Theron is a Library Assistant at the SCF Bradenton campus.

By ThatSynGirl

I love you with every ounce of soul in my body that I have left.
Even though you took my heart and tore it through my chest.
You’ve done this before, you’ve stolen my heart, and you’ve beaten it to a pulp.
Then you’d hand it to me, and beg and plead to say we still had hope.
Then I’d run back to you, my heart still black and blue, and throw myself into your arms.
Knowing damn well, that I’m running to my end, that my heart was again to be harmed.
But I stayed with you, for so long, I did.
As I watched out relationship turn to shit.
I watched us fail with my very own eyes.
But they must have been blurry from all your lies,
Cause’ I never stepped away, or when I did, I crawled back.
Cause’ you’d spit your lies at me, and I’d take them for fact.

 

Bio: I don’t waste time telling people who I am. They’re going to form their own opinions regardless of what I’ve said. And so I leave that conclusion up to the individual.

By Hannahmrdth

She looked over at the clock

And sighed.

She closed her textbook

And went to the window.

She got the sudden urge

To go outside.

Glancing over at her unfinished assignment,

She frowned and grabbed a sweater from her over-crowded closet.

 

She closed the front door and felt

The cool, crisp, September air.

The ground was cold and damp

Beneath her bare feet.

A gust of wind danced, almost melodically,

Through the trees.

It kissed her face and blew through

Her hair.

Even with the warmth of her sweater,

She shivered slightly.

The wind was gone in seconds

And she found herself incredibly lonely in its absence.

 

She took the stone path,

And made her way to the street.

She laid down

To admire the stars.

Entranced by the sky,

She began counting the stars.

Losing count at 645,

She closed her eyes.

 

She was surprisingly thoughtless.

She wasn’t thinking about

The future or her unfinished homework

That is due in the morning.

Not about her mother’s criticism or her lack of sleep.

Not even about that boy

She loved quite terribly.

 

Her mind was silent, the noise had vanished.

She could breathe, but

Only for a moment

Before the pain swept over her

Like a wave.

She returned to reality

With a few tear drops and

Heartache as great

And as powerful as the stormy sea.

 

Bio: My name is Hannah Meredith, I live in Venice, Florida with my 6 younger siblings. We are all adopted, and who knows, by the time you read this we could have another one. I am going to SCF to get my AA in a major that I have yet to figure out, but I am working on it. Currently I work at Brew Burgers and I absolutely love working there. I hope you enjoy my piece.