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TimeSometimes in life, things do become boring.
And also, prickly - like the thorns on a rose. We don't realize the minutes are soaring, And with time, everything grows. Life will disintegrate, time will perish-- So you see—time does cost. In our minds, memories we should cherish. Because if it's wasted... it's all lost. Age 13, Budding Writers, TDSB
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597457_vagabonds_MA EngLit.doc |
Starbucks
#293 printed on Starbucks cups for
The Way I See It initiative.
#293 printed on Starbucks cups for
The Way I See It initiative.
Demise of Her
shhh
below me
somewhere
sidling stealthily
is a small, sullen speck
rearranging pictures of me
replacing me with shadows
perfecting most of my poses
slithering, slinking, slowly
she is frivolous, and fierce
she spies at the window
slyly, smugly by herself
snooping, staring
she is below me
sticking to walls
singing and smiling
consoled by her voice
sullying my space with
her serpentine presence
she will never know
she can never be me
because way down
below me, she
doesn't exist
below me
somewhere
sidling stealthily
is a small, sullen speck
rearranging pictures of me
replacing me with shadows
perfecting most of my poses
slithering, slinking, slowly
she is frivolous, and fierce
she spies at the window
slyly, smugly by herself
snooping, staring
she is below me
sticking to walls
singing and smiling
consoled by her voice
sullying my space with
her serpentine presence
she will never know
she can never be me
because way down
below me, she
doesn't exist
Canadian Moose
Florence loves to smile from her bald toothless head.
Her thick fleshy body pushes out against constricting clothes.
She waddles in and out of stores looking at clerks.
Her jelly smile rests on you for a moment,
Then without deliberation,
Sinks quickly back into its asinine grin.
Volatile, catapulting threats, mocking you with her eyes,
She disarms you.
Wanton streetwalker of a time long ago,
She now sails proudly through the crowds
Flashing her low deep fatty chest,
Waiting for applause,
Wanting to be photographed.
She is the moose you see strewn along Bloor Street.
Emblem of our city, she stands erect,
Taunting, parading her flag, claiming the streets,
Laughing at the silliness of it all.
Her thick fleshy body pushes out against constricting clothes.
She waddles in and out of stores looking at clerks.
Her jelly smile rests on you for a moment,
Then without deliberation,
Sinks quickly back into its asinine grin.
Volatile, catapulting threats, mocking you with her eyes,
She disarms you.
Wanton streetwalker of a time long ago,
She now sails proudly through the crowds
Flashing her low deep fatty chest,
Waiting for applause,
Wanting to be photographed.
She is the moose you see strewn along Bloor Street.
Emblem of our city, she stands erect,
Taunting, parading her flag, claiming the streets,
Laughing at the silliness of it all.
Seasons
one day we’re at the beach
floating against a passing tide
on a yellow mat and blue horizons
your eyes catlike describing to me
with few words what magic means
a wisp of dog catches the sideline
cottonwood puffs airy as sunshine
cascading around our shoulders
just when everything is in transit
to wake beside you one minute
your warm limbs against mine
a smile spreading in your bed
the summer to live for
i want now tomorrow
to play catch today
falling in sand dunes
burying our last wish
in a place of tiny lakes
and the next day empty
as if we were never here
floating against a passing tide
on a yellow mat and blue horizons
your eyes catlike describing to me
with few words what magic means
a wisp of dog catches the sideline
cottonwood puffs airy as sunshine
cascading around our shoulders
just when everything is in transit
to wake beside you one minute
your warm limbs against mine
a smile spreading in your bed
the summer to live for
i want now tomorrow
to play catch today
falling in sand dunes
burying our last wish
in a place of tiny lakes
and the next day empty
as if we were never here