can anyone tell me?

Nothing I can do in this world with my rights,
Wanting to be free and wanting to fly;
Can anyone tell me that I am going to be alright?

I’ve been tortured in my heart every night,
I go outside and yell until I cry;
Can anyone tell me that I am going to be alright?

Come, God, and shine on me with your bright light,
Thinking it would be better as time goes by;
Can anyone tell me that I am going to be alright?

Let me be free and let me find my new sight,
Leave me at my sight until I die;
Can anyone tell me that I am going to be alright?

I fight every day with all my might,
I won’t give up freedom, and still try;
Can anyone tell me that I am going to be alright?

Nothing I can do in this world with my rights.
Come to my heart, but don’t try to lie;
Guide my heart, God, with your almighty smite.
Can anyone tell me that I am going to be alright?

by Tae Cha and Greg Price

Written in Joslyn Wolfe’s English 11.

Assignment: Students were asked to identify the structure and organization of a villanelle. They then wrote a villanelle as a way to interpret and respond critically to aspects of Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God.

i can make a difference by

Flying a kite, writing my feelings in the sky for the birds to read. And helping the stars to smile and the sun to rise. Better than me keeping it all balled up inside, waiting for the moment to be let into this world which is cold and dishonest, but if I write my story in the sky then maybe a little girl in Darfur will stop crying. She’ll see that life is not all about guns and violence, that there is more to life. That you have to look and listen, feeling the simple things in life. Like the gentle kiss you get from the sun on your cheek, or the song that the birds and the trees make on a cold day. Or feeling the playful push that the wind gives you on your slow days. I can make a difference by writing my story in the stars, the same stars that helped the slaves find their way. They could help a lost child who needs a way out of the forest, out of their situation that could be their light to follow. If you wanted to make a difference, you have to first start from the inside and find your way out.

by Sahhara Sharpe

Written for the PTA Reflections writing project. Received awards from both the Howard County PTA level and Oakland Mills High School PTSA.

random acts of kindness

Kindness is helping the Special Olympics, exceeding your comfort zone.
Kindness is sitting with a classmate who is eating more.
Kindness is being open when you don’t get your way.
Kindness is smiling at a teacher who’s had a bad day.
Kindness is introducing yourself to someone who’s new.
Kindness is broadening your horizon from more than just a few.
Kindness is holding the door whenever you can.
Kindness is recycling those bottles so they’re not stuck in the sand.
Kindness is helping the elderly cross the street.
Kindness is smiling at everyone you meet.
Kindness is being excepting and preventing racism.
Kindness is helping a friend with your upbeat optimism.
Kindness is lending a hand to someone in need.
Kindness is planting a forest with one little seed.
Kindness is holding the books of a kid who broke their leg.
Kindness is helping them out with less than a plea or beg.
Kindness is opening your heart and opening your mind.
Kindness is doing your best to just be kind.
Kindness is helping others, you know what I mean.
Kindness is stepping outside what’s normal in your social scene.
Kindness isn’t building walls, but building bridges.
Kindness is knowing you’re affecting others with every decision.
Kindness is expressed through actions, words, or song.
Kindness is standing up for others and knowing right from wrong.
Kindness is making a difference and changing the world one act of kindness at a time.

by Jourdan Davis

Written for the PTA Reflections writing project. Received awards from both the Howard County PTA level and Oakland Mills High School PTSA. Selected to compete at the Maryland State PTA Reflections Level.

heart of a champion

Having a heart of a champion when he came out of the womb
A youngster with determination and focus
Created as a prodigy ready to bloom

He was thrown into situations to meet doom
People trying to hold him back like mucous
Having a heart of a champion when he came out of the womb

But there is something missing in his life that has him stuck in a dark room
He feels as if there is a spell put upon him like some hocus-pocus
Created as a prodigy ready to bloom

A simple four-letter word that puts him in a gloom
Has him going crazy like a clown in the circus
Having a heart of a champion when he came out of the womb

Running over and sucking the happiness out of him like a vacuum
Head in a state that he feel concuss
Created as a prodigy ready to bloom

Waiting for it to hit him like boom
‘Cause if it misses, feeling will leave his body like a dead carcass
Having a heart of a champion when he came out of the womb
Created as a prodigy ready to bloom.

by Greg Price

Written in Joslyn Wolfe’s English 11.

Assignment: Students were asked to identify the structure and organization of a villanelle. They then wrote a villanelle as a way to interpret and respond critically to aspects of Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God.

their eyes

The hurricane came, it came towards us.
I was so scared I couldn’t breathe.
But we decided to stay and sit in the must.

The hurricane came, it came towards us,
but we had everything we would need
and I was with Teacake, the one I trust.

The hurricane came, it came towards us.
I sat on the bed while Teacake took the lead
and I was with Teacake, the one I trust.

The hurricane came, it came towards us.
The water came and we couldn’t breathe.
The water came through and the window busted.

The hurricane came, it came towards us,
But I was with Teacake, the one I trust.
We decided to stay and sit in the must.

The hurricane came, it came towards us.
I was so scared I couldn’t breathe.
The water came through and the window busted.
I was with Teacake, the one I trust.

by Desiree Williams

Written in Joslyn Wolfe’s English 11.

Assignment: Students were asked to identify the structure and organization of a villanelle. They then wrote a villanelle as a way to interpret and respond critically to aspects of Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God.

champion of courage

Coach Brad Howell has played a major role in several students’ lives here at Oakland Mills High School. He is my wrestling coach and did not let my gender stop him from letting me join the team. Coach Howell is a teacher to the students with learning disabilities, he is a mentor, and he is an inspiration to those who want to succeed. He talks of P.R.I.D.E. at practice and has helped me apply this to everyday life. He has helped me to see what I am capable of through his coaching techniques, and he is constantly trying to change his students and athletes for the better. With patience, dedication, and the ability to see everyone through two unbiased eyes, Coach Brad Howell is my Champion of Courage.

by Dalyce Wilson

One of 28 finalists among 5,000 entries in the 2008 Champions of Courage Black History Month Essay Competition held by Fox 45. Sponsored by Mr. Foy.

no llores

Cathy no llores más
Yo nunca te voy a engañar
Yo te quiero mucho y tú me quieres
Y nunca te voy a lastimar
Siempre yo creeré en ti
Nunca dudare de ti
Mi destino es estar contigo
Y nunca te voy a dejar
Sola tú nunca estarás
Yo seré tú cura
Para cuando te sientas mal
Si empiezo a pensar
De que tú jefa nos quiere separar
Me duele el corazón y comienzo a llorar
Pues mija yo siempre te voy a amar
Y nunca lo vayas a dudar
Tú jefa nunca nos va a poder separar
Pues yo nací para contigo estar
En el bien o en el mal
Ninguna frontera nos va a separar
Pues junto tú y yo
Los problemas vamos a enfrentar.

Yo con mi mirada te digo
“Que siempre estaré contigo
Pues tú eres mi todo, eres mi destino”
Nadie nos podrá separar
Enamorados tú y yo siempre vamos a andar.
Esos ojitos cafeces
Hacen que me hunda con placeres
Pues tú me tienes loquito
Desde el día que mis ojitos
Sintieron tú mirada
Y déjame también decirte
Lo que siento yo en mi alma
Lo que siento en mi corazón
Que palpita y se emociona
Tan solo con oír tú voz, tú sola voz
Tú suave voz, tú dulce voz.

 

by Jose Mendez

Written in Ms. Thesing’s Advanced Topics in Spanish.

torn consciousness

 

A man of torn consciousness
The final day for a choice
Sunny and cold
Stiff breeze coming in from the north
Surrounded by a vastness
The engine of the boat starts
The shore comes at the man
Tightness in his chest
The shore only twenty yards away
Scared to choose
A man now trying to smile
A man crying
His chest squeezing tighter
His heart frozen
A man truly lost
A man forced to choose a path
Crushing sorrow engulfing
Hope turned to a pitiful fantasy
Understanding
The brave route would not be chosen
Flashbacks
The whole universe appearing before his eyes
Not knowing what is and isn’t real
But everything is real to him
The boat rocking underneath him
The wind and the sky as forces upon him
The final yielding
Realizing and accepting truth
His fear of embarrassment
His final submission

 

by Daniel Salgado

Composed in Ms. Klinefelter-Lee’s English 12 Honors.

Assignment: Write a found poem by borrowing language from Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried.

maiah

by Maxen Jack-Monroe

Maiah pressed the skip button seven times, then “play” on the boom box she knew her family would never get rid of. The CD was one she knew her family would never get rid of either, a symbol of the early days when her father’s talent as a musician was still appreciated enough to allow them to afford what other families could afford. She then closed her eyes, laid back and listened to the colors. The sharp yet sensual sound of the soprano sax which melted into magenta, then violet, then blue again. Along with it was soprano’s cousin the alto; all raspberry and lime which emerged from the tenor, a treat of chocolate brown, then cafe au lait tan, finished off with the deepest of cherry reds. And finally the baritone, the big cousin that soprano was always afraid of. Deep and regal, its sound a bar graph of desert orange and midnight blue.

Along with the colors, Maiah could hear the smells. She could not determine the individual smells of each instrument, but the scent of the quartet together was unmistakable. A mixture of hot Indian curry, white chocolate mocha, jasmine and just a hint of lavender. Such aromas would never mesh well in the real world, but in this world it reeked divinity.

junk 2

by Kevin Flanagan

It was a dark, rainy Saturday night in the cold December of 2015, and for Edgar Poe, it was the night that complete and utter mayhem would start to break loose in his life. Edgar was a simple man, other than the fact that he had inherited seven trillion dollars from his dead parents. Maybe money brings some smiles to many individuals, but for Edgar, money was not what brought his own happiness. Edgar had always thought of money as something useless, for it was always saved up, and then spent on a greatly advertised product that was a disappointing scam. Edgar knew that the key to happiness was not money, but being loved, belonging, having a friend. This is why Edgar had been drinking, trying to drown his sorrows, almost all day long, everyday. His dog, Junk had been diagnosed with cancer, and Edgar was told the dog would die, no questions asked. Edgar was not a smart one, and was ignorant to how much care the dog needed, and poor Junk was wasting away at home while his owner was out crying, draining his tears into his cold booze. So, Edgar was desperate to keep his dog alive without attending to his needs. This was a very dumb way of going about things. Junk was the only thing Edgar had left. His parents bought Junk for Edgar when he was only ten years old, and he was still lasting while Edgar was thirty.

Edgar unlocked the door to his little town house in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and peered through the open door to the living room at Junk, lying on his little doggy bed, sleeping in dead silence. The good thing was, Junk was not actually dead. Edgar took one look at Junk and burst into tears for about the third time that night. He could not bear to watch his friend die like this. Edgar took the wet casing off of the newspaper and threw it in the trash bin. The front page exclaimed, “The New Way to Save a Friend?” This startled Edgar, and interested him immediately. What could this be? My Junk, could he be saved by some sort of stopper in death? The first thoughts of Edgar were completely inaccurate to what he was going to read in the front page story, but at least he had hope. After unfolding the paper, Edgar began to read without taking his shoes off, excited for what the article might have in store for good old Junk.

demon

You sliver.
You slink.
Throughout me you spread.

I am NOT afraid of you.

You may think you control me.
But I am stronger.

So much STRONGER.

You are in me alone.
I have my loved ones by my side.

My friends.
My family.
Even my words will take you down.

It’s a million against one.
You will soon be no more.

Demon.
Be gone.

I am counting down.

3, 2, 1 …

by Maxen Jack-Monroe

Written in Writers’ Bloc, the writing club sponsored by Ms. Sunderdick.

choose a life

 

I choose a life for myself,
Just another book on the shelf,
Paralysis that took my heart,
Is this idea smart?
I’m at a moral freeze,
As I ponder here on my knees.
All I could do was cry,
As I ask myself why,
Silly and hopeless,
But this war is so senseless,
Swimming away from my hometown, my country, and my life,
I could lose my future wife,
Bobbing there,
Do I really dare?
Looking back at the Minnesota shore,
A loud stadium roar,
My mother, father, the townsfolk, and my brother,
Urging toward one shore or the other,
And right then I submitted,
I would go to war I admitted.

 

by Maura Dougherty

Composed in Ms. Klinefelter-Lee’s English 12 Honors.

Assignment: Write a found poem by borrowing language from Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried.

martin luther king, jr. essay

“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.” Martin Luther King made a point that integration and cooperation of blacks and whites would lead to a more successful and equal America.

The words “All men are created equal” are part of the best-known phrase in any of America’s political documents. Martin Luther King used these words to highlight the fact that America does and has always accepted this ideal which is generally considered the foundation of American democracy. While all Americans have not accepted this idea, America (the ruling body) has, since King’s efforts, begun demonstrating through political force when necessary that all men are, indeed, created equal. Dr. King called America out in his speech and two years later, Lyndon B. Johnson appointed Thurgood Marshall as the nation’s first black Supreme Court Justice. The significance here is that America is ruled by interpretation of the law and the Supreme Court has the final word on that interpretation. In 1965, the Supreme Court began to address all men being equal by finding that Virginia’s poll tax was unconstitutional under the 14th Amendment; this lead to Congress passing the Voting Rights Act of 1965. Now forty years later, Blacks moved from having equal access to voting to equal access for public service positions. One example is that Mayor of Baltimore City, Sheila Dixon, an African-American female role model. Another current example is Barack Obama, who is running for the position of President of the United States.

Dr. King’s dream of America recognizing that all men are created equal has become a reality. Today the reality is more often than not executed through mandates, but nevertheless executed. While the conscience of many Americans has not changed, the legal requirements to honor all men equally has changed. And this legal change was the cornerstone of creating a better America. Martin Luther King had many dreams that we are not close to realizing; but today I have social, economic, and political rights that can not be denied. You can call it a dream, a prophecy, or a reminder of what this country was meant to stand for, but Dr. King’s timing and passion made what was previously a well known phrase become a realized dream for us all.

by Victoria Bledsoe

First place winner of the 2008 Howard County NAACP Martin Luther King, Jr. Essay Contest, and awarded a prize of $500. Essay sponsored by Mr. Goode.

resolutions: a rant

Ok, so I’m sitting here, wondering what I should work on for the New Year. What have I done this past year that can be deemed worthy of fixing? Hmm … well, my awkwardness certainly takes up a large chunk of that …

-

… Wait, why have resolutions? Why decide to change my life now instead of any other time?

Oh.

The whole “New Year, New Person” thing, yeah okay.

-

But, what about any other important time?

“Oh hey, I just turned 16!” Or, what about when the body’s cells replace themselves every decade or so?

You’re technically a new person (minus the same eyes, brain, memories, abilities (or a lack thereof), etc.) when cells are replaced, so why not then?

Oh, right. There’s no definite way to tell ( as far as I know) …

… But still! Why designate any specific time to change one’s life?

Why should I change myself, anyway? Shouldn’t I be happy with how I am?

-

… Then again, why not?

Of course, I’ve already mentioned the “New Year, New Person” idea, but with respect to that, the new year is beginning, and time to start fresh.

… I’m not saying that a new year means EVERYTHING has to be new, especially relations to others.

“Hey, I knew you last year, but let’s act like total strangers until one of us decides to say hi!”

Or the:

“So, I hated every fiber of your being last year. So what if you oppose every moral I hold true? Let’s start fresh, Ex-enemy, Future-hopeful-friend!” And every other thing similar to that.

Ok, so maybe it’s not bad to start fresh with someone. Bad example. My bad.

-

Some things are just necessary to change, like not finishing ideas or picking one’s nose in public.

Instead of having unfinished ideas lying around, forgotten, those ideas can be finished, lying around forgotten.

(And no, I do not pick my nose, in case you were wondering.)

-

I guess picking a resolution isn’t necessary, but in some cases it is definitely so.

by Alexander Taylor

Written in Writers’ Bloc, the writing club sponsored by Ms. Sunderdick.

desperate thoughts of choice

 

Tired, yet alert
Asleep, but awake
Desperate thoughts of choice
Lurking in my cluttered mind

A terrible squeezing pressure
Disturbing me
Thinking, pondering,
About two different worlds

Paralysis that took my heart
The border between life
Or the life with bullets
The Decision took a moral freeze

Justifying what I know is right
And knowing what is right could be death
I feel inadequate
I feel lost

Confusion drowns me out
I drift into oblivion
As my chest chokes my heart

 

by Joseph Millar

Composed in Ms. Klinefelter-Lee’s English 12 Honors.

Assignment: Write a found poem by borrowing language from Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried.

submission

 

I did try
but nothing could end the
threadbare pipe dream,
monotonous little tune this
hallucination,
a false audience in mute watchfulness
I put my head down to hide my eyes
to overcome the shame,
humiliation
a coward
turncoat, traitor
I couldn’t risk the embarrassment

in this pitiful fantasy
I will myself
now
silly and hopeless
as real as anything
a man of conscience
I succumb
and submit
to this
Never happy ending

 

by Kristen Hise

Composed in Ms. Klinefelter-Lee’s English 12 Honors.

Assignment: Write a found poem by borrowing language from Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried.

august afternoon

 

On a sunny and cold August afternoon
That had the brittle scent of October,
I stood on the rainy river
In a fourteen-foot aluminum boat

Twenty yards away from me
Lay a shore; that separated fantasy from reality
Home from abroad, past from future
Determined if I was a secret hero or a coward

Chunks of my history flashed by,
As I pondered what to do
I saw myself as a little kid,
Doing what youngsters did

I saw people and things
From a future I was yet to have
A wife and three unborn children
A first lieutenant from the war I was running from

A squeezing pressure started to form
Deep down in my core
I felt myself blush,
And tears began to form in my eyes

I could have jumped out of the boat
Swam those twenty yards
But it just wasn’t possible
The risk of the embarrassment I couldn’t face

Right then and there I thought
I would go back home and go to the war
I would kill and maybe die
And the thought of it all made me cry

 

by Sekinah Hassan

Composed in Ms. Klinefelter-Lee’s English 12 Honors.

Assignment: Write a found poem by borrowing language from Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried.

the rainy river

 

I was a coward, I went to war
I couldn’t make myself brave
A man of conscience and courage, right …
Just a pipedream
A whore to perception
A would be embarrassing reception
So I will go to war
It had nothing to do with morals
Blowing up villagers
The unseen cruelty
My life’s audience silently watching and waiting for
Not my future but my decision
Endlessly judging me by only one
So I will go to war
I will not do what I know I should
I will drive and fly and land and march
I will kill, without feeling, both the guilty and the innocent
I will inflict suffering for pleasure and be subject to the same
I will kill or be killed
I will survive, but
No fairytale ending
War is hell
And either way it’s where my world’s going
But I am a coward
So I will go to war

 

by David Diamond

Composed in Ms. Klinefelter-Lee’s English 12 Honors.

Assignment: Write a found poem by borrowing language from Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried.

plagiarize this!

Why should we dance for you
Who wish to see us in your name?
Why should we sing
For ears so deaf, so unworthy?
We tried long ago to be heard
And were swallowed.
Were we not clear?
Were we not good enough for you?
And here you call
For us to dote upon you!

Why do you artists
Always take us for granted?
We will not sing
We will not dance
We will stand back
To watch you struggle
As “Alone”
And “Detached”
And “Solitary”
Run free of your pen.

You always did love a solo.

 

by Grace Calvin

Written in Writers’ Bloc, the writing club sponsored by Ms. Sunderdick.

Project: Write a piece from a different perspective. “Plagiarize This!” takes on the perspective of written words.

i will die for you

We,
You and me,
Broke the night’s silence
With that perverted and obscene sin,
That kiss.
It was ice, then …
It was the hell of love.

I was really crazy for you,
I gave you a rose,
For me it was love’s color,
Wine’s color,
Your lips’ color,
But now it is the color of treason,
Blood, and more than treason.

Your pretty face is called beautiful,
That I was crazy for you is called love,
What you did to me is called unfaithfulness.

I will die then, as you will …
Patiently into eternity
I will wait at heaven’s door, and I know you will not come, never.
But if you …
Please clean my pain with a kiss, or tell me: “I love you.”
But no, I will ignore it.

I have written my last poem,
I have said my last word,
And had my last hope,
And it was for you.

 

by Daniel Diaz

Written in Ms. Tillman’s ESOL 2.