Since this is the last edition I will be able to contribute to CMAG I wanted to write a poem. I have been publishing my poetry since I was a young cubby sophomore, and it felt fitting to write another, for the last time.

So, as I sat on nine different planes, because I have been traveling every weekend of April, I wrote a poem. For the writers out there, I hope you can relate, that I absolutely love writing on planes. Maybe it is the sense of literally being above your problems that makes one introspective, or maybe it is the jolt you get from the causal possibility of free falling. Either way, it can result in some good writing.

I did write a poem, with full intention to publish, but what came out was too personal for me to share. That is something I always struggled with. Do I feel comfortable sharing this with the abundance of possible readers?

And If I can give one piece of advice to high school poets who aren’t sure about sharing their writing; share when you are ready, not because you feel pressured to.

It does not make you unbrave to be unsure.

You are brave because you gave yourself an outlet to write about the things that make you uncomfortable. That is a bold and brave characteristic, regardless if you decided to share. I am proud, and forever will be, of the writers I have meet at PALY.

I believe the students and teachers at PALY need to give themselves a break and remember that it is perfectly acceptable and necessary to do things without any intention. Write when you need to, share when you want to.

Well, In conclusion, I decided to publish these two poems that have very different rhythms to them, because variety is the spice of life, yah know? I hope you connect to them in some way. Thank you for reading my work.

A False Light Hearted Affair

Ms.Fee had knees as long as trees

And carried a basket filled with many things

All of which, embodied her glee

Of waking up, with mr. Lee

But Inside you’ll find

A rubber toothbrush, for a floppy clean

And of course, a love affair with Mr. Gleam

Someone once said, she was building a wall

Between her life of love

And a life she called

A necessary break from the land of all

“Must keep things separate, my dear, it’s most important not to fall”

So she closed her bag of many things

That held dragons, a circus, some christians, and beans

And her love of Mr. Lee

Was an act of symmetry

To her need, for a very hidden

Mr. Gleam

The Spaghetti Factory

One night you said I needed to be better

While the hushed lighting misted around the table,

you told me you couldn’t handle both our problems.

It felt so humid. The condensed moisture clung to the sides of my face, and inside of my palms.

It had tickled my arm hairs to a sticky tower

I wanted to tell, you it wasn’t fair, that you can’t decided when my problems were done

But I was sinking in muggy atmosphere and I drowned to stop disturbing the surface.

Power.

Don’t give them your power.

Don’t.

Don’t forget what you believe in.

Don’t do it.

Don’t fall off your path.

Please, just don’t.

Don’t give him your power.

He will take it.

Yes he will.

And he won’t give it back.

He will keep it.

And you will be held hostage.

Stuck under his spell.

His power.

Which you gave him in the first place.

Keep your power.

Don’t give it away.

But if you do,

Brace yourself for the worst pain you will

ever feel.

Power.