This
time of year, it’s more like “Teacher by Day, Teacher by Night.” Not that I’m
complaining. I can honestly say, the only thing more satisfying than
accomplishing my own creative writing projects (book three of the Evelyn
Hernandez series is coming along slowly but surely), is to help my students
accomplish their own. Please enjoy this collection of poetry from my soon to be
high school graduates.
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Double Exposure, as the title of the
anthology suggests, is the slightly out of focus way of seeing that comes from
looking at the same thing from different viewpoints, from focusing on the same
event from different perspectives. A that-was-then-and-this-is-now … or
this-is-then-and-that-was-now induced blurriness brought on by a seeing of the
past through the eyes of the present, and vice versa. In the case of my
students, it is a forced examination of childhood at the very moment they are
preparing to leave it.
The
Double Exposure that results can feel
as comforting as it is unsettling, as reassuring as it is disturbing, and as
familiar as it is strange; mostly though, it just feels real. It feels true.
Please
enjoy.
The Adventurous Boy
BY OSCAR
VALDOVINOS-VARGAS
Actions
that cause joy return with agony
As the boy
goes back and forth,
Grasping
two tight links that mean
Life and
Death.
As the
summit gets closer so does the risk.
Faces go
from terrified to relief in a blink of an eye.
But wait,
here comes the summit again,
Clasping
tighter, feeling lighter.
Wearied
Mother watches on dearly
Wonders if
the leather wrap
Surrounding
the child's head
Will come
loose.
There is no
Life and Death here.
Age BY KAYLEE ORTEGA
At the age of 1 she was able
to have the brightest smile,
By 17 she had kept secrets and
fears.
At the age of 1 her mom slices
into the cake while smiling,
By 12 her mom screeches at her
for bad grades.
At the age of 1 her loved one
clutched onto her to take the picture,
By 7 she would realize that it
would be a lifetime to see her loved one again.
At the age
of 1 her father is beaming with happiness as the camera flashes,
By 3, her
father's head is turned as he takes off through the door never to be seen
again.
Let's do a
playback.
At the age
of 1 her father is beaming with happiness as the camera flashes,
By 4 her
stepfather is filled with glee at meeting her for the first time.
At the age
of 1 her loved one clutches on to her to take the picture,
By 15 she
was clinging onto her dear loved one.
At the age
of 1 her mom is slicing into the cake while smiling,
By 16 her
mother is weeping onto her shoulder for her accomplishments.
At the age
of 1 she was able to have to brightest smile,
By the age
of 17 she was able to find it again.
Ages
BY JAZIVE
QUINONEZ BELTRAN
At age 3 I
didn't see much
Other than
smiles and laughter,
Yellow
dresses with bees and flowers.
At age 8 I
saw more than I should have,
The purple
curtains covering the bright light making it dark,
Fighting,
accusations, breaking hearts, making tears.
At age 13 I
would've rather been blind,
Late nights
outside with my dog listening to the arguments
While
staring up at the moon, asking for a stop in life.
No smiles,
just stress putting itself on my shoulders,
Things I
never figured I was going to worry about,
Problems
that seemed to be eating me in every way.
At age 16,
not sure where I lost myself.
Maybe in
those eight hours of class time,
Lost in
equations and definitions I don't seem to remember.
Appreciation by Celebration
BY LUIS
AGUIRRE-HERNANDEZ
By the
wounded black door, bandaged by tape,
Inches
away, bizarrely placed,
Stood a
tree with a radiant glow and glossy globes.
Yet by the
tree there's a chair—
Taken by a
wrinkled embodiment of cotton and silk.
Beneath the
great tree
Were two
children smiling with their presents at hand,
Their teeth
gleaming while the cloudy walls stared.
Their
mother, feeling awe-struck,
Readied and
"clicked," and their expression never faded.
The season
of blessing
Means more
to those who were blessed.
And year
after year their tree floated
Until it
was time to put it in storage,
Hidden for
next year because it was not supported.
With
unflinching desire they always kneel—
On the
faded carpet covered with unsynchronized dots
As the
family watched on the decade old couch
Beneath the
great tree
Were two
children smiling with their presents at hand.
The Bewildering Beyond
BY CESAR
DIAZ ANDRADE
The cold
brisk mountain air falls.
The two
cousins inseparable like the best brothers,
Explore the
wilderness like none have before with such rigor,
Ignoring
what kept them afraid in the past.
Suddenly as
if to say, "You're free to explore,"
They
sporadically splash as they walk through the wood.
They
venture even further into the unknown.
Each hour
but a minute to them.
The last
rays of sunlight hits the tree tops,
The wind
beckons through the leaves,
And autumn
hues fall.
Amidst the
rhythm of the night
There lies
a benign owl under the cover of darkness
Keeping an
eye on them, strangers.
The boys
keep venturing through the forest
Each going
further than the other one dares
Both
proving themselves as men
As the silk
moonlight falls on their cheeks.
One stops
in his place with a sudden motion
As if all
his long bygone worries and burdens
Flood back
into him at once.
His other
half stops, with worry.
Upon them
lies the Stygian void,
Black with
the hope of those lost in the darkness.
The naive
little boys nevertheless keep looking for a way around.
The leaves
rustle and branches break.
This void
stretches across all they can see.
The void,
seeing a chance, pulls one of the boys into the darkness.
Holding on
by one hand, the boy peers into the vast emptiness,
The epitome
of pure evil. The other boy fights to pull up his counterpart.
He frees
him up in a majestic feat of strength and compassion.
They gather
themselves and stare off into the wood,
Blind to
the bewildering secrets beyond.
Birthday
BY
JACQUELINNE AGUILAR
Birthday,
Both with a
huge smile
That went
from one ear to another,
Both
carrying a memory that would last a lifetime.
The air
full of happiness,
Her eyes
carrying a sense of satisfaction
That her
baby girl was going to have fun on her special day.
A day where
she would go to the moon and back
To show how
much she love her and se her perfect smile.
Birthdays
BY YARELI
HERRAN-FELIX
There she
is, a young little girl so short she can almost touch the floor,
With curly
hair the color of a tree trunk,
Curly
Pigtails on her head and baby hairs coming out,
Who seems
to have not one care in the world.
In a white
holy dress playing dress up to try to be someone else than herself.
White
telephone on her ear, with a smirk on her face,
On a table
and chair as red as fire.
It was her
second birthday where all she knew was happiness and laughter.
All she
wanted to do was to play all day.
Being two
means that you can just be you
And don't
have to worry about fitting in.
Now she's a
couple of days away from her eighteenth birthday.
Who knew the
carefree little girl would be gone by this time.
She has
decisions to make and needs to learn to be on her own.
She worries
about what people think.
She has to
learn to take on responsibilities.
The
happiness is still there, it has never left,
But the
responsibilities and her outlook on life have managed to change.
Who knows
if she will ever be the same?
Many more
birthdays will tell.
Camera
BY PIO
BLANCO
On the
glass, you see the shapes of old,
A tiny
face, under the hovering black.
His factions
were
Always
fixed with a bright smile.
A smile
that grew, flew up in the air
Seeped into
your eyes,
And turned
your grief to naught.
Stare at it
too much, and you would see
Cats on the
flee, birds of joy,
A blue,
blue sky, and the white,
Oh pure
white of clouds!
The girl
next to him, his kin,
Made out of
the same blood and flesh,
Her little
teeth came out to spy.
On the
occasion for their show
They could
see the camera
Taking
pictures, freezing time and space
For this
scene, where everything was…
What was is
no more. Just like time passed
So did his
bright smile pass away.
The
darkness of his hair rained upon his smile,
Covering
the purity with wicked
Smiles and
expressions insincere.
The
harshness of the wind shook.
It broke,
cutting the kindness away.
A vestige
of what he was
Crumbled,
in fear.
In the
corner smiles a man...
Can You Guess Where I am?
BY EMILE
SERNA
Nothing
like a blazing hot summer day
In Southern
California
Where the
sun feels like it's only 4 feet away.
You feel it
hit your back.
The only
thing that can cool you down is
The blue,
icy water.
You feel it
on your skin.
When a
breeze flows through you have relief,
For a
second.
Oh, did I
mention?
My feet are
covered in dirt,
Not in
sand.
Captivated
BY ROCIO
CEJA
Quick
Make sure not
to miss
The look on
her face
When she
realizes
She's been
immortalized.
Her face,
that face
With the
ability to contort
Into a
scowl or the gleaming sun
Instead
rests
Forever
waiting for the chance
At a
retake.
O, but
don't let the pale color of her shirt
Fool you
too.
Yes, white
can crowd a room
But if the
darkness lies dormant inside
It is
absolute.
After all,
hibernation doesn't last
Forever.
Still,
there's more to be done.
Even if
time is an illusion
Hers is
running out.
You can
only try to understand
Only try
But where's
the fun in knowing everything?
She lives
by this
And she
lives in that moment.
Castles in the Air
BY LEONEL
GRANADOS
Soothing,
incessant sounds sifted through to their ears
As the
children chased each other.
The young
redhead after her brother, who wore the ocean,
The eldest,
wearing the sun,
Came to aid
the youngest as he fell short of the safe zone.
All but
one, without a worry in the world.
He wore the
daytime sky,
But deep
down inside, he wore nighttime.
The thought
of the possessions in his left pocket
Preventing
him from any movement.
The
children stepped smoothly over the wind,
From corner
to corner they were chased,
And from
corner to corner they chased,
From one
safe zone to the next,
The kids
buzzed around avoiding It.
And yet, he
stayed floating on the castle in the air.
Childs Play
BY MARLENE
SEGURA ROMO
She only
knew love, not darkness.
Her smile
made the world brighter and you
Who held
her. Insisting, Insisting.
The child
trembled.
Innocence
was quiet.
Innocence
created lies.
Innocence
made her forget,
Although
her memory never went away.
She only
knew darkness not love.
Her smile
fading away,
But you who
held her
Were
pleased at the end of the day.
But the
dream helped her stay awake.
Christmas
BY YASMIN
AGUIRRE GONZALEZ
The big
smile on her face like
A little
girl getting a new toy.
Her eyes
shining bright as the stars in the
Sky. The
bright pink socks and shirt,
Bring light
to the house. The yellow
Glittery
sphere on the tree, the other in
Her hand.
The dad and mom with a long smile as
If they got
a new car. Her baby sister with
A frown
like an infant trying to reach a cookie
From the
top of a table. The green plastic tree
Settled
like a new building in the night.
Clueless
BY
CRISTOBAL MAGAÑA
There once
was a boy who was pale as the sun,
Short hair,
brown eyes with a green dirty baseball shirt.
He was
playing hide and seek in the backyard, clueless.
Click,
click, goes the camera.
The boy was
clueless.
Mother Nature
surrounding the boy.
The boy was
clueless.
Who was
that?
Blue,
wrinkled jeans popping out in the corner.
Everything
has a purpose,
Like Jack
Daniels.
Who is
there when you need him,
For some
people.
Mother
called the boy inside.
Dinner was
ready and the family was hungry.
The
neighbor picked up his clothes from outside.
The boy was
clueless.
Who knew
what would happen to that boy.
The boy was
clueless.
Colorful Instruments
BY YAHAIRA
L. MONTOYA
The
rippling water under her fingers as she reaches out,
A
reflection, and water splashing causing drops to run.
Then the
all so familiar voice, the one every child
Holds dear
in their hearts. The one every child
Knows from
day one. The sudden call of her name
Makes her
jump and retract her arm.
Squirming
with a frown off the ledge, giggles
After
flopping down, waving her hands like wings.
The water
that sprouts from the colorful instruments,
Looks like
snakes escaping a tight space rather than music.
The
instruments, covered in primary colors of red, blue, and yellow.
The drum,
the trumpet, the xylophone, the saxophone, and the harp.
A sudden
flash and click captures the small moment in time.
Another
mother nearby hugs her own child.
A frown
appears as the child escapes her embrace.
Quick like
the water snakes of the instruments, her arm
Slithers
around the child's waist and brings him close.
She
whispers, his smile dies, his hand in hers, steps move
Away from
the crowd, a smile on the mother's face.
Now the
little girl smiles to herself, runs to her own mother.
One more
glance, at the colorful instruments,
Before the
"bye bye" to go.
Cruel Presents
BY OSCAR
FLORES
Festivity
and laughter,
The smell
of homemade carne asada,
A small
child in a bright yellow
Winnie the
Pooh costume,
Two pearly
whites peaking from behind
Bright red
lips,
Wrapped
surprises awaiting,
Toys,
clothes, money,
Innocence,
bliss,
Corruption
nonexistent,
All granted
for this special occasion.
Legs
elongating, weight accumulating,
Cruel vines
lashing,
An
unforgiving blaze
Radiating
from the skies
Onto tender
skin,
All for a
few tattered bills
Tossed into
a pit.
Expected to
become the next Spartacus
With only
two sticks and a stone,
Wrapped
surprises dissipating,
Bright
colors turned dull.
A Day of Holiness
BY
MARIARLENE BECERRA
White like
sacred doves,
Church
bells singing,
Pure from
the world,
Cared for
By angels
themselves,
There I
stood,
Small,
Frail,
Yet ever so
innocent.
There I
stood,
Protected
from the world,
A world
that forgives but never forgets,
A world
that strikes and clashes with society.
Here I
stand,
Innocent
yet frightened,
Waiting,
Waiting,
Waiting,
For angels
to care.
A Day’s Sightings
BY ANDREA
RAPAN
No wind in
sight.
A pure and
sane bright day.
The flowers
in the background accompanied with spring’s
Bright
sun.
An ever so
slight breeze was felt inside.
Mom
shouting, “A picture, a picture!”
Abuela’s
comforting stare.
The stare
that could make any place feel like home.
Oh that
stare.
What I'd do
to get it back.
And the
young girl,
Stuck to
Abuela by the hip.
Another
playful day.
Absolutely
no care in the world.
No thought
as to all the yelling from the day before.
No care as
to all the torment the unexpected divorce would bring.
The
innocence still apparent.
Just today
and her Barbies.
Just her
Barbies and today.
Delicate Destruction
BY MIRCA
PATINO
Arms
envelope her frail beings.
The
delicate touch of her finger tracing over the forehead,
Over the
brows, down the nose bridge to the tip,
As one
turns to run and a scream escapes her lips
The other
one stares...
Mesmerized.
Its eyes
pierce her soul.
There is
a flicker in her glossy pale blue eyes as her grip loosens.
A tear
builds up till it overflows.
She holds
the face of the one that stares.
The
finger that was once at the tip of the nose has now moved.
It has
pried the soft lid open and slipped inside.
Pressing
against it’s pulsing eye.
It moves
frantically like a fawn entangled in fragile barbed wire.
The soft
tips that have reached in, now turned needles,
Slit the
eye, and she shows it the true horrors of the world.
Endings and Beginnings
BY FERNANDA
OJEDA
There
always is an end to a beginning.
Each life
has it's own finale.
As her life
was just commencing,
Innocent
eyes stared at aged eyes too young to realize,
Eyes could
close at anytime.
He looked
at the young being in his arms,
Her small
face bringing a smile upon
His own
wrinkled one.
His first,
a girl with big brown, shining eyes,
Looking out
in the distance.
Hearing his
name, he breaks out of his reverie,
Leaning his
head down to hers.
A wide
smile plastered on his face
As the
camera shutters.
She looks
down at the photo,
Which has
to be old as she is,
With a
smile on her face,
Wishing she
could see that smile one last time.
Each life
has it's own finale, an end to a beginning.
Enjoyable Obstacles
BY RICARDO
MAGAÑA
The
portrait catalyzes the exposure of my front teeth.
Lucy made
my heart beat rise during extreme weather evenings.
We were six
living in a one-bedroom mobile home.
The ice in
the cooler would cool the living room for a couple minutes.
Sweat and
water drops were mistaken after showering.
We were
dependent on bottled water and every so often
The feces
was exposed due to a failing septic tank.
However,
our joy was never challenged by
The dirt
and gravel surface we had as a playground.
Our
parent’s fieldwork was like our commitment to excelling in school.
Acculturation
challenged our connection to our roots
As we
became introduced to American food, language, and traditions.
The strict
parenting insured the trees growth
Like an
infinity y value on a coordinate plane.
Our
birthday celebrations were like the coming of the shepherd,
The taste
of the soda and a hamburger from Carl’s Jr. resembled
The
emotions felt when taking the body and blood.
The joy,
love, and peace of our earthly heaven
Surpassed
the size and conditions of our social economic status.
La Escuelita
BY ANEL
MONREAL
La
escuelita donde yo aprendo, green, white, and red.
Green,
white and red being portrayed similar to the Mexican flag.
Verde, Green, representing hope.
The hope to
continue being proud,
The hope to
continue the learning of this wonderful culture.
The hope we
have in these wonderful beliefs and traditions.
Blanco, White, which stands for purity.
Purity in
the country, its religion, its beliefs.
Purity that
you see in my face as a child.
The pure
face to be proud of my culture.
The purity
of the culture.
The purity
we have to choose to believe what we wish to believe.
Rojo, Red, signifying blood.
Blood for
those who died.
The blood
of the people who fought for their culture.
Red to
symbolize the love I have for my culture.
Red to
signify the color of my blood running through my veins.
Red to
symbolize the fighting many people did for the culture they love.
La
escuelita donde yo aprendo mi cultura,
donde yo
aprendo lo que es amor, pureza, y esperanza
por mi
cultura adorada.
Fear
BY IVAN
VARGAS
A kid lost,
dazed, and dumbfounded like a deer in headlights
By the
flash or his toy train or something.
The sound
of giggles as his hands bring life to his train.
This only
seems to disturb the unchanging, tired, sleepless face of his brother,
The one
standing besides him.
A
repetitive thought haunts his dreams,
The end of
life, death.
The boy
still laughing
As the
goddess behind the flash
Reenacts
the train noises.
No fear,
but love all, were her teachings.
Side by
side he stands with his brother
Too busy
laughing as he brings life to his toy
And begins
to imagine his train choo-choo-ing.
Unlike his
brother besides him,
Sleepless,
the undying thought
That haunts
his dreams,
End of life
itself, death.
Then
suddenly the train comes to a halt,
A drop,
Sounds of
glass breaking,
A cold
chill runs down his spine,
His mouth
drops,
His hairs
raise,
The undying
thought
Now in his
head
Not the
loss of another…
But the
loss of his b—
The Flash
BY MARYLIN
MONCADA
The flash
To capture
it all,
Illuminating
the purity
Of a
child's laughter
That comes
from celebrating a young year.
The candle
burning duller
The longer
its wax drips,
Its shining
presence turned to shadow,
The moment
submerged in the ocean of time,
All but
A flash in
memory.
The Floor is Hot Lava
BY VICKY
VASQUEZ
The wind
rustles the leaves and my hair.
My hands
are tightly wrung around the wooden monkey bars.
I’m hanging
on the edge of a cliff,
Molten,
hot, fiery lava awaiting my fall.
My legs are
stretched out in front of me.
I sway and
swing to the next.
It almost
slips away from my grasp.
With each
grapple and thump of the wood against my palms,
Blisters begin
to form.
Only two
more bars to go.
My cheeks
are flushed and sweat is plummeting down my face.
I sway and
reach for the last.
My mother
shouts, “BE CAREFUL!”
An “Uh-oh”
escapes my mouth
Before a
loud thud.
Frosted Buds of Spring
BY REYNA
CABRERA LUCERO
The wind
carried the leaves, the spirits, and their laughter,
to places
unknown.
It tickled
the curling caramel ends of their frazzled hair
And the
bodies of the trees.
They felt
the earth and her children kiss the bottoms of their feet
As they
floated through time and cloven leaves,
Chubby
hands tangled together,
No
discernible beginning or end to the tight rope,
But
ropes do
fray.
Strong
turns to weak, light turns to dark.
Now is NOT
then.
Now they
have forgotten what it feels like to end the day with
aching
cheeks.
Now they
have forgotten what it feels like
to be
weightless in space and society,
To not feel
the weight of His hands
pushing
their rounded shoulders
Further
into their doom.
Ghosts
BY MARIANA
LUEVANO
The
innocent pair of overalls
With a
Tweety on front, riding a black
And white
motorcycle,
Wanting
more than anything,
Freedom.
The caring and glowing huge
Dark brown
eyes wrapped
Up the
future,
A future
filled with
Pathways.
The innocent pair
Of overalls
with a Tweety on front,
Blind, the
meaning of happiness. As the
Innocent
pair of overalls grew, less it meant to the overalls.
The
luscious black, straightened hair thought
Differently.
Determination and grace bought goals. But the
Old pair of
overalls comes and
Haunts her.
Glimpse
BY ANGEL
GARCIA
Dark,
burgundy sheets on the bed.
The white
bear: pointy red nose, red fluffy heart,
Hogging the
side of the bed.
Two males
A father
and his son:
Bright and
gleaming eyes,
Mild,
peachy tone skin,
Bright colored
shirts of soft cotton cover their bodies,
The infant
size mittens camouflaging.
Black
nightstands eat away the positivity, trailing behind.
Miscellaneous
items sitting like guardians,
The black
mirror reflecting darkness.
White walls
tell stories, truths, and myths.
Graduation Cap or Stuffed Animals
BY ELENA
MORO
Short
combed hair and a gaze so aimless,
Almost as
if it were into blank space.
No intent
to any action
Or how it
may play out.
In the
future when your world or animals are falling
There is
always one safety net,
Your
backbone.
Success is
in your aim.
I can see
it creeping on you,
Subliminally
in the black figure
behind you.
Times like
clothes are of changing
From
pajamas to gowns,
Prom or
graduation,
Your pick.
Was it last
week when
You were
playing with stuffed animals?
Don’t
worry.
You won't
forget.
The Guardians
BY VICTOR
MALDONADO
A child,
innocent as a child could be.
He falls,
and laughs, and gets back up.
His clothes
are grey like an elephant’s skin.
His sleeves
are black like the night sky.
He was
unsteady like a boat in a storm.
He had
stuffed animals surrounding him.
They were
guardians, protecting.
The window
above showed glimpses of the outside world.
The boy
just stayed in the one room.
He never
thought of leaving the safety of that space.
He had only
his stuffed animals to play with, because they were his friends.
Her Innocent Smile
BY KARINA
SOLIS-GUTIERREZ
Her big
brown eyes shined
As bright
as her big smile.
Her shadow
stood behind her
As she
walked towards the light.
Her blue
hair-ties bright as
Her
personality.
Her chubby
arms holding the
Weight of
her chubby face.
Her
innocent smile hiding what
She did,
continuing her day as normal.
Little did
they know she was
The one
making the mess in the house.
His Only Wish
BY EVELYN
RAMIREZ
Youth,
A flower
ready to bloom.
White walls
so pure,
Delight is
swept across her face.
Surrounded
by her father's
Very brown
skin.
His arms,
Exquisitely
draped in scars.
His hands,
Beautifully
callused.
His heart,
Full of
desire
To break
Chicano oppression.
His only
wish,
For his little
girl to be powerful,
Break
boundaries,
And change
the world.
Hush
BY ALEXIS
SERNA
Hush little
one, what's new? Awoken, haven't you?
Catastrophic
killer cough keeping you up?
Or is it
the sinister sniffles causing your suffering?
It's a
shame, how illness is your name.
Tame for
some time, but those were all lies.
Your
demise, please let it be far.
Behind
these bars you will not fly.
But why…
Why must you inherit this pain,
This stain
on your health, forever to stay.
All we can
do is hope, your father and I,
With our
floodgate eyes and shivering spines,
Our severed
hearts and hazy minds.
Your eyes,
they are telling me lies.
Please be
strong… The doctors are wrong.
I Traced the Dots along the Paper's Smooth Surface
BY
STEPHANIE JIMENEZ
I traced
the dots along the paper's smooth surface.
What
mystery did he leave for me today?
Each idea
floating
And falling
like bubbles.
The sweet
smell of brewing coffee that lingered over my head
Was met
with a sour scold from my mother's breath.
The birds
awoke with the energy of the sun.
In the
distance there were faint sounds of melodies.
I listened
to the sweet songs made just for me.
As I looked
Down at my paper and
discovered a blackbird.
Knock, Knock
BY
WUILFREDO ORTIZ-HERNANDEZ
Knock,
knock.
Silence.
Knock,
knock.
Tiny
footsteps swooshed.
Where are
you?
Laughs
echoed.
Knock,
knock.
Tiny sounds
came from the back end.
What was
that?
Silence.
The stench
lured
from the
cabinets.
What could
it be?
Where could
he be?
Knock,
knock.
Giggles
trembled the wooden doors,
the smell
and laughter coming
from the
same place.
Pop open
the wood door.
Got you!
Those
giggles
could be
heard across the world.
Now let's
go change you.
Ok grandma.
Law
of the Jungle
BY ROSALINA
CASTRO-FRIAS
Shrieks of
joy like the life of the jungle
Spill and
flow from my mouth endlessly.
Crinkled at
the corners,
My eyes are
like miniature smiles on my face.
She coos,
bubbly, through the tight line of her lips.
Adorning
her body in tight parakeet green satin,
It snakes
around her figure.
My heart
beat slows, eyes wildly roaming, exhausting breaths puff out faster.
Dark
leather, crocodile, with a strap at her side.
The door.
Open. Shut. Darkness. Alone.
At the mercy
of the law of the jungle.
Little
Girl
BY ADRIANA
MORALES-HINOJOSA
Little girl
Surrounded
in pink, but living in blue,
Two
ponytails raised by hope,
Has a seat
for a friend, but it's taken by a doll.
Children in
the back, but the girl’s still unaccompanied.
The boys
riding away in the distance are only a reminder
Of the
loneliness that comes with being an only child.
Afraid to
be alone,
Stays
within the spotlight,
Lights
directed towards the dark
Moment
captured by mom.
Pretty pink
princess she set out to be,
Bummy blue
Barbie was all we could see.
Mama
BY MARIA
GONZALEZ
Her eyes
locked on curiosity,
Each page
turned was a different story told,
The
presence of her future self was there.
They read
alike, they read to know
the truth of one another.
A mirror
proved their similarities.
Their brown
locks were no different from
Their brown
stones of sight.
And through
the reflection she
saw her mother.
Both just
lay there surrounded by
The small
bed, the small room, the small trailer.
The smell
of dirt around the palm trees
Oozing
through the small cracks of the home,
All hidden
behind the portrait of the lens.
The Mask
BY DANIEL
MONTEZ
Click! An
image captured in time.
An
ear-to-ear expression masking the boy beneath it.
Staring at
the ceiling in darkness, shaking hands pressed
Firmly
against his ears, that fail to shut out the screaming
Through the
walls.
Meanwhile,
siblings run along playfully.
Perhaps
with the same masking expression.
Missing You
BY ILIANA
MARIE CORONA
In my
grandpa’s arms is where I'd like to be,
Being able
to feel his arms hovering over me like a teddy bear,
Throwing me
up in the air and laughing.
I was named
his favorite mijita.
Visiting
his trailers week after week,
Always
reminding me of how much he loved me.
He was
strong, loving, and very protective.
He
constantly reminded me of why he'd wear his muscle shirts.
Take a wild
guess.
If your
answer was to scare all the guys away you were correct.
Getting
picked up in his white truck felt like I was the coolest ever.
Wind
hitting my face and jumping onto his lap in the driver’s seat
Is where
I'd like to be.
See, weeks
later he started feeling sick.
My dad then
gets a call, and sure enough he was gone.
I never
thought that would be my last goodbye.
In my
grandpa’s arms was the place to be.
The Moment before It Was Captured
BY ASHLEY
RAMOS
The moment
before it was captured,
A memory
that will forever belong in our hearts,
It hung
there from the tree with confetti and
Candy
inside, waiting.
It turned in circles, hearing the twist in the rope
As the
moment came near.
Obediently he stood smiling, staring
straight. Younger than
him stood his other half,
Always
together, an unbreakable bond,
eager and excitedly unable to contain
Stomping on
the cement.
Stars shining brightly, illuminating the sky.
The joyous
moment that was to be.
Three two one cheese, snap.
A memory
that will forever belong in our hearts.
At last the
cheers of the crowd as both the boy
And girl
prepared to finally live the moment they
Longed for.
It was time to savagely hunt for
Their
candy. The laughter and clapping of
Others
brought the night to life.
New House, New Life
BY PAOLA
RABAGO
New house,
new life.
Unfolded
house, unfolded decorations.
Time
rushed, but enough for the holiday season.
Anxious for
the presents beneath the tree as to living the American Dream.
Smiles
filling the room as we rejoice to a new start.
Hoping for
the best but expecting the worst.
Goodbye old
house.
Goodbye old
life.
No Light
BY KAREN
OYOHUA RAMIREZ
A walk into
paradise is what you'll see,
Or at least
that’s what you'll believe,
As just a
four year old, that’s what you’ll think.
Click.
Click.
As soon as
that bright flash hits. the true expression is revealed,
A frown.
The blue
room filled with what seemed to be paradise, shut out.
Behind, the
innocent doll stood still.
We all we all
we all,
The sound
of a racing ambulance rushes to the mind of just a four year old.
Speed being
the cause of the fear.
Nights out
worrying for her life is what she consists of,
In a room
of paradise nothing seems to heal.
Four years
young yet twenty years old.
No light in
such a kid, no light.
Out in a Rural Town, Lies
BY MANUEL
AYALA
Out in a
rural town, lies
a cold
blooded reptile. The
wind
whispers every now and
then,
causing little commotion.
A car
stops, distant from the patch of
grass. A family
of five gets off of the
brown Astro
Van. Smiles upon their
faces, as
they stretch and yawn.
The sun
shining down its blazing
face. The
light blue sky guarding it like
it's
prepared to fight. A sudden rush of wind
comes,
balancing out the mood of the sun.
Kids
yelling as they run towards the
tortoise.
Dirt clearing the way for them,
acting like
the ocean when Jesus
attempted
to get to the other side.
The reptile
finds himself getting climbed on.
The next
second he's left alone yet again.
Did he do
something wrong?
Mr.
Tortoise—just a statue.
Player One and Player Two
BY JOANNA
HERNANDEZ
Princess
and dungeons
Dungeons
and dragons
Dragons and
Z
Anime
watched 24 to 3
Pokémon
caught in the town of colors
Lavender
town was the scariest
Big brother
to the rescue
Stopping
all gym leaders
Red and
Blue
Leaf green
and fire red
Welcome to
the culture Lil Sis
Gaming has
a purpose
And yours
will be discovered
At the age
of 11,
Flashing
lights will cause you to lose sight
And may
stop your height
“Keep her
held tight”
Sounds like
Keppra, am I right?
But don’t
lose hope
Brother
will make sure you won't
You'll
loving gaming when you're older
You'll meet
your closest friends and boyfriend
Thanks to
gaming
But
remember,
“It's
dangerous to go alone, take this!”
Oh! And
don't throw your fit.
Red
BY VALERIE
AYALA
The pudgy
baby shows emotion:
Eyes that
are as black as coffee beans
Display
fear because of the bright white light,
A smile
that says I'm happy, I feel all right.
She’s
distracted and placed awkwardly,
Wondering,
"Why have I been placed so up tightly?"
The red
can't help but travel to her cheeks,
Swelling
and becoming pinch-able.
If only she
knew what was coming,
She would
prepare for flight.
Red
BY ABIGAIL LOPEZ
Holiday spirit in the air,
Presents surround the feet of children,
A tree so big a picture couldn't even
capture it,
Ornaments and candy canes cover the
mountain-like tree,
The two kids happy as can be
Share a smile from ear to ear,
Like the Cheshire Cat ornament on the
tree.
What about the mouse from the boys fire
red sweater?
Can it compare to their joy?
“Seems, madam…” BY SANDRA
ROJAS
Fresh and
sunny outside,
Small feet
running around and playing with not a care in the world,
Patties
grilling and flipping,
Fathers
smoking and drinking and playing poker,
Is how it
appears…
But these
eyes know what's really going on.
Uncle Max
on the phone, while Aunt Margret smells something fishy.
Cousin
Peter with his red eyes seems a little jumpy on the basketball court.
Sister,
pale looking face and swollen feet, shoving food in her mouth.
Father
zoning out, feet taping and legs shaking, vein popping out in his forehead.
Clear blue
water splash, splash, splash,
Aunt Martha
holding her breath more than a minute.
Momma will
always say,
"There
is someone out there that is having a much worse day than you are."
Momma was
right.
Any minute
someone can die.
Any minute
someone can hear the worst news of their life.
Any minute
someone's world can turn upside down and blow up in their face.
Nothing is
what it seems.
Life is
like a clock;
It will
keep going and every second counts.
Be happy
even through the rough times. Have a smile on your face.
Smile
BY FABIOLA
CORRAL
Bikini Top.
Bikini Bottom.
Summer’s
here. The sun shines.
The water
dances. Body’s wet. Hair’s wet.
Too little
to stand on the deep side, she warns.
Missing
Tooth. Gap in between.
But not a
care in the world. She’s free. She’s wild.
She can
make her sister and cousin laugh.
She hugs
them around as if there were
No
tomorrow. Enjoying the moment.
Family.
Childhood. Happiness. She’s having
The time of
her life.
Mother
takes a photo
“Smile.”
A Smile in the Air
BY ADANETH
JASSO
Her head
moves around
So caught
in this place
Full of
arcade games and a play space.
She jumps
when her turn comes up.
As lights
shine upon her face
And
glimmers upon her cheeks,
Her smile
gives it all
And only
gets bigger as she goes.
With her
heart racing, so sincere,
And her
family caught at her sight,
Setting
herself to show them what she can do,
To get
ready, set, and fly.
She
elevates as she pedals,
A whirlpool
of emotion grows inside her.
She begins
to grip the wheel so tight,
But still
widens her brown eyes
And pedals
faster to be up high.
The smudge
of pizza sauce stands out on her face,
However
it's no bother.
You can
never be wrong with two ponytails,
A pair of
old, worn out white sneakers,
And a soft,
yellow sweatpants set,
Riding on a
bike that flies!
Smile, Child
BY ISAMAR
LEAL LUCERO
Her body
was still, like a doll on a shelf,
Still on
her mother's lap.
And as her
mother grabbed her arms tightly as a knot could not let loose,
She
turned,
And caught
at the glance
That was
dry and sweet,
And she saw
the flash of yellow bright light, SNAP!
Laughter in
the air, eyes of dark brown everywhere.
She
turned,
And not a
glance was there.
She
turned,
Still on
her mother's lap
At a man's
glance,
Shaking
plastic rattling hoops,
She stared
And smiled,
but the smile was not there.
She stood
still,
Looked at a
man’s brown skin,
Looked back
at her mother,
Dripping
water drops from the roofs of her eyes.
The mother
let go of her.
The man
held her tight,
Promised to
bring down the moon and stars.
She
stared,
The sad
river in her face was gone,
Relief of
protection.
She stared,
At a glance
that brought joy,
Father was
home,
And smiled,
but this time the smile was there.
Sound Asleep
BY DIVA
KHINDA
Little Diva
knew nothing, for when she went to bed
It was as
if everything went, poof!
Her mouth
wide open for flies to go into her head,
Not a
single care in her seven-year-old world.
Sleep was
her getaway to wherever she desired.
Sleeping
was the only way she could picture doing great things.
Naps at
three o’ clock had to be sharp, but
Little did
you know she was out by three ten?
Only thing
she needed was
That old
pattern pillow with the tiffany green blanket.
One sheep,
two sheep, three sheep, she was out like a light.
Oh how deep
was that sleep of hers, not a single care for the world.
Little Diva
knew nothing, for when she went to bed
Everything
she pictured was just in her head.
Start-up Capital
BY EDUARDO
RODRIGUEZ PEREZ
Come on
everyone,
Gather
around the
Birthday
boy!
One, two—
Wow, I had
it all.
Decorations
everywhere,
Surrounded
by bright
Bright
colors.
Three!
Estas son,
las mañanitas…
Family
staggered throughout
The House,
Tony in the
bounce castle,
Dulce
waiting for the cake
Patiently,
And Alberto
waiting for
His sweet,
sweet revenge.
Ready to
frost my
Plump pink
cheeks
And
confetti filled hair.
Que cantaba
El Rey
David…
Yellow, tres
leches,
Cartoon
cake.
Vibrant
orange shirt.
Mom taking
pictures,
Memories
and reflections.
Mom,
where’s my Da—
In white
wallpaper
With yellow
stripes
And even
sunflowers
Sheltering
from reality
For the
most part…
Mordida!
Mordida!
Click.
In the
blink of an eye
Surrounded
by friends
“Here’s
some napkins.”
Thanks.
Blue
Frosting?
California
Hat?
Click.
Dress
shirt?
Sterling
silver?
Click.
Click.
Click.
Suit and
tie.
Gray Poupon
Wrapped in
gold,
Finger,
neck, and wrist.
—d?
He’s
working, son.
Still?
Ten to
twenty-some hour shifts for nearly
Two
decades. All for you.
Thanks Mom
and Dad. My turn.
Still Breathing
BY ANYSSA
SANCHEZ
Baby
bathtub, Baby Shampoo.
Yellow
rubber ducky floating all alone, with eyes as big as hers.
Smiling
with no care in the world.
Not knowing
the real world and the bad people in it.
8-month-old
child. In the care of a loving mother. Unknown father.
Water so
mellow. So still. So calm.
A play pin
for an innocent child.
Not
realizing her actions will soon speak louder than her words.
Little girl
happy to just be alive. Still breathing.
Splashing
through the ways of life. The ways of other people.
Thinking at
the age of six that everyone's thoughts and feelings were alike.
Soon will
know that was far from right.
Two
siblings. One more on the way. One more to come.
A big
sister now. With little ones looking up to her.
Two father
figures. One who came to be.
One who was
there. And the other named reality.
Happy as
life can be.
Little girl
happy to just be alive. Still breathing.
Seventeen
years old. The years to explore.
Ripped away
in a blink of an eye.
Abstinence
no longer an option. Mistakes. Secrets.
Heart
breaks. The feeling of not being good enough.
Fearing
disappointment. Happiness fading.
Missing the
innocent, clueless child.
Realized
her actions spoke louder than her words.
Seventeen
years old. Seventeen years, still breathing.
Stripes and Plaid BY
FABIAN SALAS
With their
minds above all else
Oblivious
to the tumultuous storms of rigor
That would
encompass their journey in a future
Now they
stand at the feet of acclaim
Joyously
rejoicing over juvenile achievements
Acclaim at
the hands of a popular spirit
While
uncertainty lingers at every corner henceforth
Pride and
achievement
The badges
of life and misfortune
Where
experiences are entitled to glisten
The young
stripes unsure of how plaid can persevere
For stripes
like toppling leaves
Tried by
misfortune
And the
interdisciplinary wisdom of plaid
Exceeding
that which stands before it
The forces
of life know not of what may come
Standing
only to reason if they even come at all
However,
these stripes must not fade
They must
stand like the impregnable flag alongside them and with this
Independence
and fortitude must linger undoubtedly
For at
dusk, the stripes and plaid become white
Unified by
that which is no longer juvenile
Acclaim at
the hands of academic success
And
now
Their roads
diverging in paths once dreamt
Converging
by occasion to become one once again
To tell the
tales of a new day
Summer of Waterfalls
BY JESSICA
TORRES
The stone
trail that we followed like Hansel and Gretel.
My hair
that frizzed up like a cotton ball with the mist in the air.
Sweat
glistening on small foreheads from the trek up the hill.
My brother
and I surrounded by green at the height of our summer ventures.
Muddy shoes
and muddy pants.
Our
grinning faces when we reached the waterfall.
The absent
look on my brother’s face once all had been done.
My
sparkling eyes giving all, but also nothing away.
Forest
hills as steep as the years ahead of us.
Crashing
water amongst rocks.
Abandoned.
Only having
each other.
No more
safe trips through the forest.
Twigs
snapping and the sound of rustling trees.
Scattered
leaves along the forest floor.
Leaving
guarded.
No longer
following the trail side by side.
Instead,
back to back.
Sun so Bright BY JENNIFER
MARQUEZ
The
girl.
The girl
with curly hair,
Curly hair
and a bright yellow crown,
Whose white
shirt is full of bright yellow suns that resemble her shorts.
She is
smiling.
She is
smiling next to a self-portrait that she drew,
Next to her
self-portrait made of crayon, but she is covering many others.
Her
portrait is colorful and on white paper,
On white
paper and bordered on top of a red one.
Her
portrait is colorful but barely visible, for the light from the camera has
shined too bright.
That is not
all that shines bright,
For the
yellow background behind the red sheet shines too.
The yellow
background with four self-portraits appears to only show half of itself,
Bordered
with sheets of black and white cows standing on green grass.
She is
still smiling,
Still
smiling and being held by her uncle,
Held by her
dark skinned uncle wearing a dark gray shirt.
She is
being held up high, with one of his hands under her bottom and another grabbing
her underarm.
She has him
for support.
Support
that every little girl needs.
Support
that will never be taken for granted.
The
girl.
The girl
with curly hair.
The girl
with curly hair uses her uncle’s left arm as a seat.
The girl
with curly hair and a bright yellow crown.
Swallows
Swept through the Southern Sky
BY EDDIE
LIN
Swallows
swept through the southern sky,
While the
chill breeze of winter air spread through the warming South.
Scraping
the obsolete moss off the stone wall,
Revealing the
truth underneath the green cover,
A naive
toddler entered the frame.
Wrapped
with clothes that will keep him warm from the frosty cold,
Holding in
one tiny palm a slice of half bitten apple,
In the
other grasping the joy of life in his realm,
Ran down mid
the narrow alley,
With a
smile at its finest purity,
And records
the instant of history,
With the
innocence of immaturity.
Underneath
that smile,
Rests the
secret that no one knew.
It is the
fear of isolation,
That would
bring him to desolation,
But that
won’t bother him anymore
As the fear
dilutes in the passage of time.
Swing
BY EVELYN
FIGUEROA
Sunny day
with a fresh breeze
Hitting my
face, while on the swing.
Flower
dress is my thing,
The sun so
bright, forcing my face to turn pink.
Afraid to
fall,
I hold the
grip tight.
Feeling my
pig tails move side to side,
Laughing,
full of joy, while I swing.
Hearing my
mother happily yelling, "Digan queso!" (say cheese)
To capture
the moment and keep it forever.
!Tac, Tac! ¡Agua! ¡Tortillas! ¡Pan!
BY MARIA
VEGA
Her smile
so bright like the sunshine,
Full of
innocence,
No worries
just laughs and happiness,
Those toys
built from mud,
Waking up
to the loud chickens,
And feeding
the big creatures.
¡Tac, Tac!
¡Agua! ¡Tortillas! ¡Pan!
Protected
in the arms of her mother and the rebozo,
Like a
momma bear protecting her cub,
Everything
was as clear as water,
Pastime,
The
beautiful garden of flowers left behind,
Suddenly
she grew afraid,
Putting a
stop to the wind,
Her big
brown eyes full of terror,
Waiting to
have many opportunities,
Not giving
up,
She comes
from those early mornings of delicious smells
To
preparing herself for a great career.
Cultures
completely different,
Never
leaving her heart.
Time
BY CRISTINA
MARTINEZ
The
moment’s ornament.
The
fragile, innocent eyes as stars
of twilight
fair. The sound of Las Mañanitas.
A little
box with a flash captures the moment.
The boy
from Coachella running away
from them
all. Running endlessly
in all
types of weather and conditions.
The other
boy who is afraid of the “anchor.”
He knows
what he did is harmful.
No escape;
if done so he cannot bear to
see the
shattered heart.
The girl
who shuts out the sun
of the wax
stick, is arriving toward what is
considered
an “adult.” Decisions that will
make her
future…
Heart
broken about the path she is
going to
choose.
No matter
what path is taken, or on already,
you know
what makes you happy.
Time, after Time
BY LUPITA
SARAI SOSA
Red,
orange, yellow,
The
un-replaceable paint peals.
White
washed out walls
With
windows covered by lace,
Hiding what
lies behind them.
Disappearing
figures roam curtains and walls,
Watching as
she cheerfully plays.
She glances
at what might lie ahead.
A bird,
imprisoned by its fears,
Held behind
a black iron cage
Yearning
for freedom.
A change
captured by film
Brown hair,
brown eyes
All the
same except for what's inside.
Figures,
voices, from the past all still haunt,
Yet she
looks ahead, never to be found.
Two Years Old
BY ALVARO
RUIZ
The cake is
laid out on the table,
A number
two candle lit on top.
The boy
stands over the cake
With the
wooden chair supporting him.
His
fingertips are covered in frosting.
He wails
his hands up with a smile.
The boy's
eyes focus to the side towards a teen.
The teen's
hair is black and oily and his shirt grey.
The teen
puts his hands together and claps.
The singing
and the sound of the clap fills the room.
It is heard
by a room full of adults and kids,
One in
particular, a female behind the camera.
Her face is
smooth,
Her hands
rough,
Her eyes
baggy,
Her lips
with a smile.
Her fingers
click
A button on
the camera
And then
there's the flash.
The flash
brings forth light.
No light
means darkness,
Darkness
means monsters,
Darkness
means ghosts.
That was
all in the past,
Just like
old friends,
But
memories still stick
Just like
deep and silent secrets.
Up to Bat
BY
FRANCISCO MONTALVO
Mine and
his eyes covered
Green grass
and a diamond
Gloves
grunting
Cracking
bats
More and
more people
In the
shade
One
moment
A slight curve
At the
picture
It was my
first
Before the
pledge
A
commemoration
Forever
lasting
A moment
past and the slightest
Emptiness
and the everlasting want
Used To
BY
WENCESLAO BALBUENA-PATINO
He picks up
the photo
He can't
remember.
The kid in
the photo is happy.
His mom
would say he was a happy baby.
The kid is
sitting on top of a sofa,
The sofa is
covered by a blanket.
He
remembers not liking it, but also using it every day.
He looks at
the back.
"My
happy son. Hopefully the last. -07/06/02."
He can see
his mother smiling at the kid.
He can see
how happy he used to make her.
The Velvet Dress
BY
KRISTIAN LOPEZ-DIAZ
Very
quietly I take my leave,
As
discreet as I came here
Slowly I
wave goodbye.
We lost
our peace,
Our love,
Our light.
The world
was still,
No
clouds,
Nor
breeze,
No
sorrow,
Nor loss.
They wipe
away their tears,
Accepting
that he's gone.
He left
nothing but the dress,
The
velvet blue dress and the girl.
The one
with the brown eyes
He
couldn't return,
And she
couldn't stay.
All that
was left was the velvet dress.
La vida, La realidad, Descansamos.
BY MELISSA
SAGUN-MUÑOZ
A hot
summer morning,
4 a.m. and
she could already feel
The heat of
the desert sun.
Tired and
aching,
Patiently
waiting for her ride,
Su
“futuro.”
Su
“innovacion.”
Su
“salvacion.”
“Nomas es
la uva, es un trabajo.”
Tired and
aching,
It's here.
“Adios mis
hijas, las miro alrato.”
A kiss on
the foreheads of her two,
Tired,
sleeping daughters.
Two hours
passed,
Las hijas
con el abuelo
“Mijas
quieren comer?”
No reply.
Tired and
aching,
He rests.
“Tata,
Tata.”
Buscando al
abuelo,
Sus mejor
amigo,
sus padre…
El dia con
sus “nietas hermosas.”
Another
day.
“Mijas ya
llegue”
Tired and
Aching
Arms wide
open, hugs filled with love.
“Como estan
mis chiquitas,
Vamonos a
comer,
A banar,
A dormir.”
Tired and
aching
Repeat.
White Snow Prints
BY
ESMERALDA GARCIA
The thin
sheet of white snow
Lay across
the brown grass field
Smooth no
longer
Like
Craters on the moon
With small
dips and zigzag patterns.
Thin
sweaters, baggy pants, little white shoes,
Wide gray
sky,
Small gray
shadows,
White,
Pink, Blue,
The colors
of young smiling souls.
Short, high
pitched titters escaped their lips
As white
sprinkles cross their faces.
The shadows
that moved in fast motions
Across the
snow suddenly froze
And the
edges of their soft pink lips turned down
As the
short old lady with a red apple said loudly,
“You've
enjoyed enough. Class time.”
Young Memories
BY ALEXA
REYES
When we
were young,
We ran around
the playground having no idea of what we'd done,
Swinging on
swings or sliding down a hot slide
On a hot
summer day.
Remembering
the times we told our friends secrets,
Secrets
held together by lies.
Yet we all
still laughed and held hands.
Outside the
frame was a class
That had no
idea of what's to come.
The school
year came to an end
And
everyone went their separate ways.
Friend
after friend became more like acquaintances.
The ones
who stayed
Were the
only ones who truly cared.