Poetry and Writing

By: Breanna Wiggins

Easier

Life was so much easier

When boys were only gross.

They had nasty cooties,

And of their boogers they would boast.

When they weren’t jerks,

Because they made you cry.

They were meany pants and worm eaters,

Back when it mattered if you lied.

When they hit you because it was funny,

not because they had a crush.

They were shy and glad to be smart,

Unfortunately that’s all been flushed.

For boasting not the booger,

But their latest hot girlfriend.

Being jerks is their whole life now,
Their sweet world of pretend.



Faded Beauty

A long dirt road, undivided,
untamed,
on either side golden fields
roll on forever,
dotted by
the occasional cow and calf.
The grass ripples
in the wind
as waves in the sea.
They point back
to the lonely lane.
Young flowers bloom and
wind themselves around
the weathered fence posts,
 reaching for the crisp bright sky,
which stoops down
to kiss the dancing underbrush.
As years blow by,
just as grass in its meadow,
the lane is paved.
Weeds cut.
Humans replace the cows
 and children the calves.
Field, built upon beauty,
 forgotten.
A melancholy mood
settles as a blade of
grass squeezes
into urban city life,
and a lone pebble bounces
on the asphalt highway.
Simplicity was once
here and beautiful.
As everything once was,
one more faded beauty.



Sibling Bond

The bond between siblings
Is the strongest of them all.
We may always quarrel,
But I’ll be here when you fall.

Stick it out through everything,
Bullies, homework, or heartbreak.
If anybody threatens you
Their life would be at stake.

I know I punch you all the time.
And tell on you when you’re wrong,
But you can tell me anything,
You don’t always have to be strong.

We can dance and laugh together,
Or we can pick a fight.
But I will always love you,
Whether you’re wrong or right.

Inseparable by any means,
For this I thank our mother.
For giving me my best friend,
My annoying little brother.


The Sky’s Tears

The rain is falling down, my love
This makes the world anew
Thirsty flowers get their fill at last
Mighty Rivers show praise too.

The drip-drop rhythm soothes me
A metronome to unwind the mind
The careful little pitter patter
To my ears sounds so kind.

Cool drops from heaven brush my face
A sensation that makes me speechless
Nothing is equivalent
To warm rain and its attempt to caress.

Re-energized auras fill the air
When the sky smiles and wipes its tears
A relaxed mood flows from within me
The rain I hold so dear.



Normal

If up is down and down is up,
And right is left and left is right,
Is excitement a bore? Is the window a door?
Is black now the same as white?
If you are me and I am you,
And she is him and he is her,
Is wrong okay? And is tomorrow today?
Do cats bark and do dogs purr?

If flat is round and round is flat,
And plain is weird and weird is plain,
Is ugly now pretty? Is boring now witty?
Do you go crazy if driven insane?

If light is dark and dark is light,
and good is bad and bad is good,
Is a pencil a pen?  Is a lose now a win?
Do you not do the things you should?

If peace is war and war is peace,
And formal is messy and messy is formal,
Is slow now fast?  Does 'A' now come last?
I think everything should just stay normal.


Blue (A Short Story)


It was nearly a year ago that my life began its journey downward, that what seemed to be my entire empire fell. It was nearly a year ago that all of my emotions and feelings left me, I was alone and desolate, under my veil of despair. And it was nearly a year ago that the building of my foundation merely crumbled beneath me, my once impenetrable boulders, now gravel at my feet. Nearly a year, my perfect became incorrigible, corrupted, tainted; nearly a year ago, my brightest blissful colors turned, bare and bleak, then dull and dark, and finally to absolute nothingness. A heap of rubble, the world would step upon as carelessly as they would glance in my direction. It was nearly a year ago, that Wes died.
"Good morning class," the teacher snapped, she always snapped; as if by our little breathing we disturbed her. "This morning we have a new student." From behind her puffy polyester skirt, drenched in periwinkle floral print, a petite, red faced boy with glasses appeared. While many of the children snickered, I watched, mesmerized by the timid child hiding his crimson face.
"Class, this is Wesley Eugene Stewart," the teacher revealed, the wrinkles around her eyes indicated that she had done this many times before, and she was trying to delicately introduce to us this odd child, as one might introduce a guppy to a tank of sharks. She knew his fate, we all did. And her assumption was correct. By this time, our entire second grade class was in hysterics. A few of the pudgy faced children, even rolled onto the floor, their matted manes, name brand clothing, and manicured fingernails showed their "classy blood lines" which made them act the way they did. They thought they were so much better, because that's what Mommy and Daddy told them. The unfortunate arrival time of this Wesley, put him in the empty desk right next to mine. He scurried to his seat, and buried his terribly red face, as if something giant and scary were about to get him, which, in a way, I guess it was. Quizzically, I stared at him. I stared at him for a brief moment, a moment of thought. Then I reached my hand out to tap him lightly on one of his heaving shoulders, which were covered with a royal blue parka. I could tell he was crying. He picked up his head, that seemed to large for his body, and looked into my eyes. From those eyes, a brilliant blue, a single tear ran down his still pink cheek. I smiled at him, awkwardly, but he smiled back. Though neither of us said a single word, we understood each other as if we'd had a conversation, and that was the moment our friendship began...