Best Freshman Year Poems
‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘’’’’’’
Angular hips now more round than grapes
grieving a little for new voice whispered,
swells of flesh curved in plumper shapes
while the flow of monthly arrival lingered
Almond eyes grew sultry deepening hue
baby powder blending into lavender spray
this crossover of rebellion I harshly knew,
awkwardly choosing between truth or dare-play.
Then, nights gazed at sandals of childhood seas
toes raking, confused about dissent down path;
a ruffled star finding myself sliced by cold trees
as Mom screeched at moody blues ready to hatch
My mind felt strange; Dad became a fading hero
questioning him with glares longer than steam,
rude awakenings cracked fears, tears stuck at zero
with ripening bosoms; this turning point at thirteen
Struggling for identity bloomed in freshman year
when tresses climbed on stairs of clumsy romance
beguiled by some hunger in my bones, a blushed cheer;
exalting the senses, a lady-in-waiting for her first dance.
©
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
For Frank Herrera: Coming of Age
By nette onclaud
It’s May 18th, 2022. I’m poised, alone, heart pounding, in front of my laptop, waiting for courage, my finger hovering over the return key, like a child hoping the timing of my keystroke will bring me luck.
I took this summer off - which drove my mom absolutely CrAzY. “You CAN’T!” she’d said last month, only to be overruled by my Grandmère. Now I’m home for summer break and tonight she’s flush with exasperation.
“You should have applied for a dean’s fellowship,” she said, her voice rising as she rubs her hands together, as if scrubbing for an operating room procedure, “and a summer research position!” She’s practically twirling with suppressed emotion.
I get why she’s upset. She only goes “deep end” when she's worried about my future. She knows what’s needed to get a medical school slot in 2025 like other moms know their favorite recipe - after all, she’s done this twice before.
Leong’s upstairs, avoiding this family scene. When I described my family expectations as “hustle culture,” to my roommates, they all understood - we’re that much alike.
Step (my stepfather) is trying to de-escalate and calm us (her) down. “Look,” he says, holding up his hands like someone talking down a gunman, “NEXT summer she’ll buckle down, get in more volunteer hours and get a dean’s research fellowship” he says, sliding his eyes to me. I nod “ok” almost imperceptibly. “It’s ok to start grinding sophomore year - that’s what I did.”
OOOO! She turned to him and if looks could kill, he would have exploded like someone in a Tarantino movie.
By some psychic grace my Grandmère chose that moment to call. Step and I fled the den like it were on fire, going our separate ways to halve the chance of being followed.
In my dark room, lit only by the light of my MacBook, a quiver runs through me, and I finally press return. My grades for Spring semester - and Freshman year come up. My eyes water and I relax back against my chair when I see “Dean's List.”
I smile to myself, and slowly, fiercely I clench my fist with a “YESS!" As I postulate my victorious reprieve.
Countless memories,
Laughter and tears
Always to be remembered,
Moments of these past four years
Freshman year,
Brand new places
It's a fresh start,
With many new faces
Sophomore year,
Better knowing
Waiting for the end,
Always growing
Junior year,
Almost there
Many tests,
Better prepare
Senior year,
One last year
After this you'll be gone,
It's reason for cheer
All the drama,
Between boys and friends
Not knowing what to do,
Having to make amends
It was September of 1960 and we were growing
Elvis sang "It's Now or Never" anticipation showing
New kids in town for our Freshman year
Our last at St. Jerome's, adulthood near.
We hung out at the Coffee Cup on Berwick Street
Five Point Diner and Palma were sweet
We never dreamed of growing old
Back when we wore blue and gold.
Sophomore year brought us to Saint Ann
Not old enough yet to be called a man
Hitch hike to the My Place and Bowling Alley
Travelled around the Panther Valley
Weekends looking for a brand new thrill
Going to the Coffee Shop in Summit Hill
On the Juke box "Runaround Sue" and "Cathy's Clown"
If "Rumble" came on we'd quickly leave town
Building memories as each day would unfold
Back when we wore blue and gold.
62 saw the Four Seasons singing "Sherry"
Our next two years would be with Saint Mary
Pep rallies in the court yard, who could forget
Sneak down to Henry's for a cigarette
Laughing, joking, we were only sixteen
Drop another nickel in the pinball machine
Flip a coin for a pool game, choose who will rack
Fan buses for away games, have a smoke in the back
Lou Christie sang "Two Faces Have I "
"The End of The World " made Skeeter cry
It was 63 and our time was near
We were starting our senior year
Unsure of what our future would hold
Back when we wore blue and gold
November came and some of us cried
The Friday President Kennedy died
Before the storm there is always a calm
Trouble brewing in Vietnam
In 64, invaded by another land
The Beatles wanted to hold our hand
The school would be one next year we were told
Back when we wore blue and gold
June arrived, graduation day
A time to rejoice, a time to pray
To change the world, thoughts so bold
Back when we wore blue and gold.
Wrong!
A little boy plays football.
His parents call him a "tomboy".
He doesn't understand what it means.
Wrong!
The boy is now twelve.
His best friend gets her period.
And puberty hits him hard.
Wrong!
His friends put him in dresses and makeup.
His parents are proud of their "little girl".
He doesn't get why this is happening.
Wrong!
Freshman year he gets a laptop.
A friend convinces him to join Tumblr.
He feels acceptance.
Wrong!
He learns about gender and sexuality.
He is relieved and happy.
He is finally not alone.
Wrong!
His helpful friend,
Kills himself due to unaccepting family.
The boy feels alone again.
Wrong!
He goes shopping with his brother.
His brother calls the cute couple in the corner "fags".
The boy doesn't understand how love is wrong.
Wrong!
He starts to wear baggier clothes and bind.
People call him; "dyke", "tranny", and "lesbo".
He just wants to be called a man.
Wrong!
He has hopes and dreams for a future.
He just wants to be himself.
He just wants to be happy...
...But every single time,
he feels better about himself
He sees her in the mirror...
Freshman year, newcomer to public school,
my hormones were roused by Billy D. in typing class.
Sadie Hawkins’ Dance just days away;
a chance for girls to ask boys out.
Too shy to show my interest,
crumpled bits of paper I formed into balls,
tossed them at the back of Billy’s head.
Unsettled, as any boy would be, he glanced back at me.
Wry smile, how could he know how my heart raced?
Leo sat next to Billy, amused by this interaction.
Because of his demeanor, it was Leo I asked to the dance.
Turned out Leo couldn’t dance,
though conversation was no problem.
Leo spent the entire night talking about being an Eagle Scout --
tying knots, marking trails, building campfires --
seemed we had little in common.
No chemistry at all, but Leo said, “Thank you,” at the dance’s end.
For years I spent many days wondering
what if I’d slipped Billy an invitation note,
instead of lobbing paper balls?
Perhaps he would have said, “Yes.”
I might have had my first embrace;
maybe even my first kiss.
Years later at a school reunion
Billy looked more handsome than ever;
served as CEO of a Fortune 500 corporation.
He introduced me to his pretty wife
as the girl who pitched paper balls at his head.
*True story for Carol Brown’s “First Date” contest. (Some folks were lucky to have
more romantic first dates. LOL)
"She's eight weeks old and weaned," the farmer said,
then placed the trembling Pup within Meg’s arms.
"It’s time to go and find a home away
from home where she can romp and learn and grow."
Her friskiness, bright eyes, and timid bark
quick warmed Meg’s heart; Pup found herself a home.
That night Pup looked for mother as she whined
and chewed the edges of her cardboard box.
The ticking clock Meg put beneath the rags
replaced the sound of mother's beating heart.
A little more secure, Pup fell asleep…
Meg wondered if the mother missed her pup…
Two weeks have passed, and all is going well.
Pup's found a niche within the household walls
and learned the rules; no jumping on the couch
or bed. The hours she spent in wooded yard,
with kitty and the spaniel from next door,
have opened up her sheltered puppy-world.
How well Pup has adjusted in a life
away from mother's warmth and primal love.
She found herself a home away from home.
Meg thought this while she stroked Pup’s silky fur
and waited by the phone for her dear call—
Her child at school three hundred miles away,
who just began her freshman year today.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Structured Forms - Iambic Verse
Sketch a Fictitious Character II
Sponsor: Giorgio A.V.
Judged: 01/17/2015
Freshman year was a breakout year for me,
I maintained a positive attitude.
This was someone I did not used to be,
Through that year I gained so much gratitude.
Year two was by far the year of heartbreaks,
a lot of my family members had died.
I was so mentally messed up it aches,
When Darion had passed I sat and cried.
Junior year was the best year of my life,
I pulled off the best grades in my career.
Even though it gave me a lot of strife,
I wanted to kick back and sip a beer.
Senior year is coming to an end quick,
Can not wait to laugh and share one last pic.
My favorite instrument: the Flute
My first and only instrument I received as a little girl was
a Flute.
My godfather had gotten me a Flute after he and my mom had broken up. I don’t recall what happened to my Flute.
A few years later I had a music class my Freshman year in high school and we all got black plastic Flutes we were supposed to learn how to play in music class.
As an adult and a lover of good music I wish I had learned to play the Flute. I’d play in music videos on BET and on the sidewalks of city streets collecting money to pay my bills.
The life of a musician is fun and interesting. You love to travel, play your instrument and collaborate with other artists but never have much money! LOL
on a field trip freshman year
the boy
in special classes walked
up the muddy trail.
he
walked on the side,
balancing on the dry stones
aligning the path.
he followed some
acquaintances.
an old coat and
sweatpants with worn elastic
warmed his bones in the gray
mists. bus pass in his pocket
and a few coins, he thought
about lunch - not the rocks he
would have to climb.
his shaven head chilled with drips
from the pines above, the path
narrowed and inclined
between two boulders.
he struggled up the path,
getting dirt on his
snow white shoes.
Found this poem I wrote in my
freshman year in high school
(2006)
Why does my heart beat
I am alone upon this earth
No one to love me
No one to hold
No one to touch
No one to call my own
This feeling in my heart
A hole I can't fill
Everything I touch, driven away
So here I am
In solitude I lay
On this lonely, lonely valentines
day
I remember those high school years
When being popular was so important,
I tried so hard to fit in with my peers.
Each grade was like changing gears
Readjusting to teachers was torment,
I remember those high school years.
I spent lots of time in laughter and tears
Some years wondering what it all meant,
I tried so hard to fit in with my peers.
Freshman year was rampant with fears,
Hoping the dean’s office never to be sent
I remember those high school years.
All through the sports’ jocks nasty sneers
I was a band boy carrying my instrument,
I tried so hard to fit in with my peers.
I think I may have even tried a few beers
Some credence with the guys that lent,
I remember those high school years
I tried so hard to fit in with my peers.
Written April 3, 2022
"In my distress I called upon the LORD, and cried unto my God: he heard my voice out of his temple, and my cry came before him, even into his ears." Psalm 18:6 of the King James Bible
Separation angst:
such I loathe to grip me
having experienced it since childhood
yet due to innocence
my mind could not fathom its lamentable reality…
I dreaded Mom’s departure from my presence
yes, even the thought of such left me feeling destitute
thus, whenever she would announce going somewhere
torturous separation-despair afflicted me so much
vexing my soul toward restlessness…
Then in my freshman year in College
never could I forget my heart-wrenching struggle
when Mom brought me to a dormitory
serving as a new home away from family and her care
oh, that indeed engulfed me with awful homesickness…
The greatest blow of separation-distress hit my being
making me agonize painfully in grief…
as Mom’s last breath set me apart from her person
never to be caressed by her pampering touch
and uplifted with music only she can croon...
I thank God for making me move on
with Mom’s sweet memories
enabling me overcome ache of separation
while savoring the joy of her inspiring triumph
knowing that we’ll soon be reunited forever
since resurrection is inevitable according to the Scriptures.
April 25, 2021
2nd place, "Writing Prompt - Ache" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 4/26/2021.
During last night’s draft coverage, ESPN would reveal
that the Cleveland Browns and Philadelphia Eagles made a deal.
At the last minute, Philadelphia sent their first-round pick
to Cleveland for two Browns choices in a move that was quick.
With pick number twenty-two, the Browns chose Johnny Manziel.
This was a move many Browns fans thought was swell.
Cleveland folks will be happy as hell welcoming him here.
He was the first Heisman Trophy winner in his freshman year.
Johnny hopes to bring the Browns back to respectability this season.
Cleveland is quite happy, and Johnny is the reason.
From a sports news story found on ESPN.com
i treated your loss just like death
grieving for you as i did my mother
i still wonder if the universe
wasn't teaching me a lesson in karma
for you were a personification of heaven
which surely meant there would be hell to pay
for a year i tried to drown you out
with illegal drugs and spirits
something to wipe away the memories
numb the gut wrenching pain
and to quiet the nightmares
that made me fearful of sleep
you still remain
after my previous endeavors failed
i sought out pleasurable company
calling on old acquiantances
and admirers of our once shared love
dull, boring, lacking in every sense
and that is putting it mildly
then that lonely august afternoon
an unexpected surprise
chiming from within my apartment
your tender voice on the other end
everything rushing back
my soul revitalized
your freshman year in your rearview
returning home to gather creature comforts
inviting me for a ride along to arizona
after all others had declined
i hesitated thinking it a bad idea
but knew the courage it must've took to ask
hey danny, do you remember
sleeping in the cab of your truck
at that shady looking truck stop
just over the new mexico state line
you nestled up in my arms sleeping
just like old times
i remember climbing with you
through the catalina shadows
chasing roses instead of lilacs
jumping over chasms
eating prickly pears
and showering in the springs
three days i spent in your bliss again
while three days you sharpened your dagger
waking up to the sight of ian
hovering over me, smiling
like a buzzard mocking its pray
unaware i'd been mislead
our time together cut short by my request
unable to bear the thought of you having moved on
standing alone at the terminal side-by-side
your hand reached over to cup mine
turning i could see the tears welling up in your eyes
your voice cracking now with apologies
one final embrace
your face buried into my chest as you sobbed
your eyes opening shedding tears
one final kiss
feeling just like the first
under the fall
a decade has gone by
i've sworn off love in hopes
someday you'll return to reclaim what's yours
now and forevermore
even after all we've been through
you still remain
~ fin ~