Lost in Youth
Rainbows in the clouds, walking on railroad tracks , locomotives up close
Kickball games , I am left footed, spooky reflections in a mirror, running naked
Wooden desks and chairs, kids in the classroom , the little girl across the street
Black and white T.V., Air conditioning , a new blue car, exhaust fumes
The farm, coal fired furnace , warm heating ducts
a collie , a cocker spaniel and a horse named Thunder
Dark starry nights , telescopes , comets and satellites
Northern winters, snow covered fields ,sledding, frozen lakes , and Orion
Camping in fields , mosquitoes bites , quiet dawns and heavy morning dew,
Grandparents ,riding lawn mowers , apple trees , flower and vegetable gardens
Southern Summers , warm muggy nights , ceiling fans ,open screened windows
Screened in porches, ancient toys, , tiny transistor radios, baseball games talking late into the night
Badminton , side lawns , and long rides home
Public pools , icy waters and underwater swims
Trombone , marching band and high school football games
Sleepy classes, friends , lunchroom games, and girls
High school graduation , college and final goodbyes
The day’s hot-the wind like a convection oven
Blows hot air in our faces.
My cap and gown insulates me
Baking me like a potato wrapped in aluminum foil
I desperately fan myself and look around
My eyes search for my peers and see;
The bros that survived school with me;
The others who shouldn't have;
The girls with memories already wet in their eyes;
The people I never met and will never know;
All desperately fanning themselves
In silence and in waiting.
We all are waiting for the same thing-
What's next to come.
For some it will be their names
For another a trip to boot camp
For many including myself- college
A couple can't wait to forget the tortures of high school
And a few will already be planning our high school reunion
because it was the best years of their life.
As I bow my head, not out of sadness,
but out of sheer defeat by the sun,
I scuff up my dress shoes in the clumpy grass of the field-
that just finished another infamous drawn out lacrosse season,
I'll be thinking about the 4 plus years, 8 seasons,
worth of drilling and conditioning I did in that very field and on the surrounding track,
With a flash of ivory across my sweating face
I'll be thinking about
All the nooks and crannies
that I sanctioned for the intimate meetings of my girlfriends
The times caught and not,
All the heartbreaks and rejections,
The friends made, the best friends kept, and the many lost.
The drama, stupidity, and immaturity,
Everything that was and used to be.
And, all this time spent waiting-preparing
for this one moment
You can't help but remember it all
And with one, final sweet goodby-
I remember when we were growing up and the first day I started school.
I was nervous as could be, and then you walked in trying to be so cool.
As the year progressed we became very close, and you took me
under your wing, and I think thats what I admired about you the most.
I remember by the time we reached middle school people thought we were
related,and as I think back about how shy I was and how I am now just
makes me elated.
By the time we reached high school we did just about everything together,
and vowed that even after graduation no matter what we would remain friends
College came and we both knew that we would regret this day, for I knew
you were the smarter one therefor I knew we would have to go our sererate
The years have past and time has been good to us. Both or us married, kids
our health, and our friendship still in tact is better than any amout of wealth.
People say time goes on and accept things for the way that they are,
but I'm here to tell you our friendship will never change, and I know
that in my heart because no matter what the distance we were friends
from the very start.
I was a seventeen year old senior in a coed, catholic high school. Our gym classes however were still all boys and all girls. My senior year we had gym every other day and music every other day in the same time slot. The music classes, therefore, were also all boys or all girls.
She was a twenty-eight year old nun in her first teaching assignment. She was in way over her head. She was about five-foot-four and weighed practically nothing. The nuns in our school no longer wore habits and I remember thinking it was a good thing because she would probably fly away like Sally Fields. If you don’t know what I mean by that then you are too young to be reading my story.
The music class was a mad house. She could not control a room of twenty some boys bound and determined to make her life hell. I mean, music class? Really?
We never did the homework assigned; never answered her questions seriously; never believed her threats at discipline; wouldn’t accept the demerits she tried to hand out; and basically goofed off for the hour that was supposed to be dedicated to learning about music.
For some reason, she seemed too proud or too green or too determined to go to the principal or another teacher for help; and, sensing that, we knew we could get away with our childish behavior and so we did.
One day, a handful of us “got in trouble” and she said she wanted to talk to us after class. I was the only one that actually stayed. She tried to lecture me on my bad behavior but I guess my smirk was evidence it was not sinking in. Then, she started to cry, and for the first time I saw her as a person.
“What am I doing,” she cried. "I can’t do this. I am trying; I am really trying, but I am not cut out for this. Why are you boys so mean and hateful?”
I stood up in front of her not knowing what to do or what to say. I felt like a real jerk. I was a real jerk.
Tears poured down her face, which I finally recognized as being a pretty face. She bowed her head and just sobbed. In my awkward seventeen year old manner, I slowly opened my arms and allowed her to lean into me. And I hugged her while she wept.
At seventeen, I was no ladies’ man, and this crying nun was the first woman I had ever held so close to me. I could feel her breasts pressed against me; the heat emitting from her body; and, the delicate nature of her womanly form in my arms. I knew then that I was destined to go straight to hell for the thoughts that were going through my head and the feelings I felt between my legs.
She pulled away and whispered, “I am so sorry, I should not have done that. You may go.”
I simply said, “You know, you are doing fine, you just have a class of a bunch of butt holes”, and walked out of the room. It was that night that she started coming to see me in my dreams. To hell I go, for sure.
I wish I could tell you I had the moxie and the influence to whip that class into shape, but I did not. The mad house continued with one less student joining in the fun. I tried my best to behave, answer her questions, pay attention and feign interest in the topic of the day – but I was just one in a sea of monsters. I stayed after class and after school a few times to talk with her, ask her how she was doing, and see if I could help in any way. She was actually starting to get the hang of things and was able to focus on the few classes that were willing to learn.
At the end of the school year, I was one of the few students who had not enrolled in a college for the coming year. Because I was one of the better students, it caused a little bit of a fuss and a number of teachers talked to me about the huge mistake I was making taking some time off before going to college. It seems they were all convinced that if I did not start into college in the fall, I was doomed to never go to college. I challenged them by saying what they were really worried about was their statistics of percentage of students who went on to further their education.
During the last day of classes, the music teacher asked me to stay after class. It appears, it was her turn to try to talk some sense into me.
“So, I hear you are not going to college,” she said.
“No, I’m going to college … some day, just not this fall.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. Take some time off. Work. Nothing. I don’t know. Why is it so important to everyone? When the time is right, I’ll go to college.”
“They just care about you.”
“Bull loney,” I said, only it was another word.
She smiled at me. I had been dreaming about her now for six months. I changed the topic.
“Have you ever kissed a boy?”
She laughed, “You know, I grew up the same as every girl in this high school. I did have boyfriends.”
“Yeah, but have you ever kissed a boy,” I challenged.
“No. Not the way you mean.”
“Do you ever wonder what it would be like?”
“No. Never,” she lied.
“If I told you I will register for college if you kiss me, will you?”
“No. I believe you when you say you just need some time off. I think that is a good idea.”
Then she walked up close to me and stopped a heartbeat away. Suddenly, she reached down between my legs, grabbed the crouch of my pants and said, “Just don’t let this thing get you in trouble.”
She abruptly turned and walked out of the classroom while I tried to catch my breath.
During the graduation ceremony I saw her sitting with the other teachers and shared a private smile with her while walking back to my seat after being handed my diploma. I would never see her again … outside of my dreams.
I often think about my high school music teacher and my ticket straight to hell. Unfortunately, I never heeded her advice. That body part of mine she grabbed ahold of for a fleeting second those many years ago, has gotten me in trouble time and time again.
Eyes of Seminary – Zamreen Zarook
Every day in our lives has different fragrance,
God give us various things in abundance,
Day by day knowledge is gained in accordance,
Things depend according to the attendance.
Two years of studies,
Helped us to come out with various abilities,
Extremely joyful moments with buddies,
But life said every aspect has its boundaries.
Teachers become very friendly,
They approach us very kindly,
They speak on us exaggeratedly,
Because they know, if not we might behave badly.
Big shots in the school boundary,
These are years of foundry,
It helped us to find and go for laundry,
Marvelous days, fully packed with sundry.
Various angles the kith and kins are civilized,
It’s because our knowledge is enhanced,
Guys and girls turned well experienced,
That’s why we call it levels of advanced.
The fondest memory of a young boy’s drive,
Are those things reminding us we are alive,
As when those physics of natural fortitude,
Rise up to the occasion and start to protrude.
Seemingly the notion is quite uncontrollable,
The mind that takes over is quite consolable,
`T was Love gave us the procreating urge,
Assumption is such, why should we not spurge?
As was this friend of mine who’s name was Berg,
With every young lady he saw, wanted to spurge,
He did saddled himself with three kids and a wife,
Which is fine if mature ,but if not ruins one’s life.
Another fond memory of a young boy alive,
Is all those hot rod cars that he use to drive,
One of my dearest friends lost his life, where and when?
High school graduation on Bayou creek bend.
A four in the floor and a fifth under the seat,
Young boys feel like such a feat is quite neat,
Driving while drunk chancy rich price to pay,
Same as being too young when one hit’s the hay!
This story has no glory, though all parts are true,
Parents seriously need to teach children good pursue,
Apple of God’s eye, tooth for tooth, an eye for an eye,
We have not mercy, when it is judgments we cry!
For Contest: Fondest Memory
In Honor of: Frank Herrera
They told me from the time I was two
“One day prince charming is coming for you!”
They made me read these inspiring fairy tales
About mermaids, evil step mothers and
servants whose childhoods were unfair,
They told me that even if I was troubled and had to put up with a lot,
That someday my adversaries would have to surrender
to me and scrub my pots,
They told me I wasn’t alone; animals would be my friend
So I tried that, then one night they bit me,
I suffered another tragic end
They said to always be kind-hearted that’s what all man want,
When I got into high school I found out no one wanted to talk to the fat girl in the corner who ate chocolate glazed croissants
They told me to find seven dwarfs, a crew of little people
My school only had four of them
Their names were; scuba, geek freak, muffin top and meatball
In eleventh grade they said, "ask God for a fairy godmother to get a dress for the prom"
I went to a Catholic Church, got one for 75 cents,
with red stripes and one missing arm
They said after graduation the wise thing to do would be to go to college
and Not rush into getting married
So I got knocked up my senior year by the school janitor,
His name is "Prince Larry!"
I dropped out a month before school ended and you’ll never guess where I reside
I am currently employed doing Disney parties, where I get to dress up as all the great characters who told me those fabulous lies.
Got to Love fairy tales…
By: Sabina Nicole
I do not know?
The year has passed,
so long ago,
And now its time for us to go
We've said or prayers,
So spread your wings,
its time to fly
We wont forget our childhood here
But now its time for
A Brand New Year.
How Many Gimmies Do You Get?
By Elton Camp
The story that I tell you is all too true
I used to get as many gimmies as you
Until finally there came to be the day
When that greedy game I wouldn’t play
An engraved invitation I was sent one year
About a distant cousin’s sweet little dear
Little Lulu’s kindergarten graduation is due
If you can’t come, we’d like a gift from you
Those weren’t just the words they selected
But I very well knew that a gift was expected
No matter that their brat I wouldn’t recognize
That minor fact didn’t stop gift-seeking tries
One time a “friend of a friend” had the gall
For me to attend their son’s wedding to call
They also included the URL of an online site
It meant, “This lists the gifts that will delight.”
But the one that produced the greatest surprise
Contained a name that I totally didn’t recognize
Next month, my high school diploma I’ll get
Don’t try to come because there’s no place to sit
This is why I call “Gimmies” all such invitations
Because gifts are clearly the sender’s expectation
So when you think of “inviting” me, understand
The gimmie will go straight into the garbage can
1889 – 1918
I saw the town rise up
Like a single blade of grass after a spring rain.
I played a multitude of hop-scotch games
With my best friend Hannah on Penn Street.
And sipped a hundred ice cream sodas in the Mercantile at sunset.
My mother took me to Jacob’s Grocery every Monday
And it was I who picked the plump oranges
From the big rickety crate.
On Saturdays we worked the fields at Strong’s Ranch,
Harvesting the pampas in the walnut fields.
And on Halloween I was the girl in the moon-face costume for five straight years.
When Christmas brought its luminous lights to the town,
Mother dressed me in red with a bell on my bonnet.
And father sang the carols with a guitar and a tambourine.
I graduated from the big high school in 1907
And in celebration,
Rode my bicycle to Bassett
Still in my starched graduation petticoats.
He being five years younger than I,
Was the love of my brief stay on this earth.
But when he ventured to steal a kiss that day in Black Canyon,
I used my calloused hand to convey my stern disagreement.
But what wild regrets I’ve entertained since Jesse drowned that day.
In the wild currents by Pio Pico’s crumbling Adobe,
His body bobbing like a sea bird
In the punishing plume of that old deep river.
Beyond the muddy banks and the wild flowers,
Jesse Forbes left this life with a surprised frozen grin.
Why Jesse? Why?
You never knew the truth, my love.
You never really understood what I meant
When I said nothing.
I said No to you when I said nothing that day in Black Canyon,
But I really meant Yes.
The influenza incinerated my heart and soul
With a 106 temperature in the winter of 1918.
Twenty nine years I dare say
Is nothing in terms of eternal life!
I had so much more to do!
I had so much more to dream about!
I walked and talked on the streets of my town,
And on the funeral-dark avenues of my innocent days.
And I planned and I schemed
And all for nothing!.
Indeed, I felt the pulse of fleeting time
And the never-ending,
Ever-turning circle of endless days.
But now I rest here in Clark Cemetery… a virgin corpse
Flirting shamelessly with the bow-tie worms,
Still wild with regrets.
And forever haunted in reverse
By the same recurring memory
Of Jesse Forbes holding a rose.
Under the old oak tree in Black Canyon..