January 24

spoken word- To my little brother

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You

have aqua blue eyes as if the hue of the sea was poured into your iris.

I

gazed into those glistening eyes as they first opened.

As our eyes interlocked I felt your presence.

You

absorbing the light of the world to project into your mind for the first time.

I

held you as if I was holding a whole universe, within my cradled arms.

The very day I vowed to protect you.

I

promise you, how small you believe you are

The galaxies existent on the pinpoints of your mind,

are far from being irrelevant.

You

love to ask why, as if your lips always knew how to form that very word.

Your mind’s questions stretch as far as the eye can see,

in order to piece together your endless curiosity.

You

will always try to find the different side of every story, the lesson beyond the hurt, the character behind the name and the beauty in the least expected.

I

will show you that no matter where you are in this world, the moon is no bigger than your thumb. You are the center of your own existence, there is no need to be afraid.

You

will paint the rainbow after every harsh storm,

just to show  the world beauty can blossom out of the darkest clouds.

I

will teach you how to share toys, like you will one day share this world.

You

have the ability to make your smile travel around the world and come back to you. Just by the exchange of joy through strangers.

Your smile can do wonders.

If you allow the edges of your mouth to lift, and creases of your eyes appear.

I

will remind you of the small pockets of happiness you forgot you had along the way.

You

recovering your gifts like a diamond in the ruff, discovering treasures within yourself you never thought you had.

You have the urge,

to create, what you feel

to discover, what you question

to fight, for what you love

We all do.

You

shouldn’t allow fear to suppress your instinct for adventure. Despite what they say the only person you can ever be is yourself.

I

wish I could shield you from harsh parts of this world, but my hands aren’t big enough to mold all the hurt I wish to transform.

Promise me you

will not allow the shards of hatred, to tare open your untouched skin, to draw out your kindness like blood. To be dry of the very thing that nurtured you.

I

will feel your pain, may it be a scrape on your knee or the cracking of your heart. I will feel it all.

You

are never broken, even if it may feel your heart scattered of broken glass. I will piece together every fragment that was displaced, despite my fingers cut open and bleeding.

I

will be your bandage, my arms wrapping around and around. Every heart soar you feel, to heal, to protect all your wounded parts. To seal your innocence, so remorse won’t infect you.

You

As your soft cheeks and dimple turn to a jaw line and stubble, when you have broadened shoulders and rough hands that turn to fists.

I

will remind you, to never raise your hand to a women, unless she is your teacher and you are asking a question.

You

can use those fists to build up the broken, to plant pillars where you stand lifting your potential. To use your strength to change the world.

I

don’t want this world to get the best of you, stealing your forgiving spirit to bitterness.

And you

will not occupy and value your happiness based on endless digits and dollar signs. Nothing can compare to the satisfaction of unconditional love family gives. To be rich off love, instead of self-indulgence.

 You

will not let the sand of time slip  through your finger tips. Holding onto grudges, and pain you will not forgive.

I

know one day, you will not need me to fight your battles. To seal up your wounds for you will be stronger. But I will always have your back, with reinforcements just in case.

Most of all, I want you to know

you may out grow the rides, be able to reach the monkey bars standing up.

But you will never out grow the opportunities life holds,

you will never out grow the love I have for you.

This spoken word poem is for my youngest brother, Isaac. We have 13 years age difference, and he has so much to learn and discover in this world as a young boy. He just means the world to me. Creating this poem was meaningful to me as I plan to show him this when he is older. It was enjoyable to write as I was speaking from my heart. I have a very motherly sense of voice in this poem, because that is the similar characteristic I have for Isaac.

I loved creating this piece, hope you enjoy.

Category: Alisha | LEAVE A COMMENT
January 24

Goodbye (Spoken Word)

2 syllables. 7 letters. 1 word.

Goodbye.

I have never been a fan of this word for one reason –

My dad.

My life feels incomplete,

Over, and over again.

For the past 16 years. The feeling will never escape me.

Sleepless nights. Pillows stamped with tear stains. Moody days.

*Pause*

 

Do you know what it’s like to be far apart from the one you love?

Being miles and miles away.

We take everything for granted – we are all guilty of doing this.

I want. I want. I want

You complain about your parents, though they are just a hallway away in your house.

Have you ever thought about just stepping back and seeing the many things you ALREADY have.

I’ve always been told from the very beginning that your parents are the greatest blessing you will ever receive.

Everyday I wake up, feeling a part of me missing.

The father daughter relationship I so wish to have.

But there’s 7000km between us.

An 8-hour time difference between us.

Leaving a premature relationship between us.

*Pause*

 My dad and I have a series of little games we like to play.

Wrestling in the living room.

Betting on how much the groceries will cost.

And of course I always win because I peek a little at the total amount, but my dad lets it slide for he pretends he doesn’t see me.

Holding my hand, and his arm around my shoulder – protecting me from the terrifying world we live in.

*Pause*

I’m told that I am a girl version of my dad. My sense of humour. My looks. My care. My love. My smile. – It’s all him.

Which makes me smile like I have won a million dollars, because if I could ever be half the person my dad is, than I have become the person I’ve always wanted to be.

The way his eyes shine that light brown color, only sending love and care when you look into them.

Reminding me of when I was learning to ride a bike, and I fell, but those shining light brown eyes were right there to take care of me.

He smiles so infectiously, making your worries evaporate into thin air.

Which makes me smile like I have won a million dollars, because if I could ever be half the person my dad is, than I have become the person I’ve always wanted to be.

                                                          *Pause*

Letting go of him, as he goes to meet my mom.

Tears start forming, but I push them back.

I tell myself I won’t cry, clenching the pain back as his figure gets further and further away.

My heart gradually breaking into pieces, with every step further.

He says goodbye one last time, flashing his million-dollar smile, and I whisper out an – ‘I Love You Dad’

*Pause*

Category: Daania, Gr 10 CW | LEAVE A COMMENT
January 24

Dear Girls: Spoken Word (Favorite Piece!)

http://www.firstcovers.com/userquotes/68447/a+simple+smile+is+the+best+make+up+any+girl+can+wear.....html

http://www.firstcovers.com/userquotes/68447/a+simple+smile+is+the+best+make+up+any+girl+can+wear…..html

 

Dear Girls:

 

Girls are a whole half of life,
a whole half of life… I… don’t know so well, honestly.

I mean, sure, girls. I can talk to you.
I mean, sure, girls I can laugh with you
I mean, sure, girls I can get mad at you.

Sure, girls, I can fall in love with you,
It doesn’t mean, though… It doesn’t mean I know you.

Girls, why do you go through the pain,
all this makeup, to attempt in vain,
to make yourself beautiful, yet a clone,

Not understanding your beauty is only ever your own.

I understand, what I see outside is great,

But heck boys, can we do else than to hate?

Us, as boys, we abuse you

Force you into cast iron molds,

Hold you there with

The handcuffs of media,

The bindings of gossip,

And the shackles of judgement

 

If you want make up, then be my guest,

But please, listen, and I’ll do my best,

To speak a point having long been ignored

my idea of true beauty, having yet been unexplored.

Look into a mirror,

tell me you’re not pretty.

If you tell me so, I dare you to look harder

Look past the words of others,

shove the words which broke your image long ago,

made your reflection shatter

broke the mirror in your mind because you can’t bear to look at yourself,

because all you’d see was the B____, S___, and W____.

They cut you inside, made you bleed self image,

Made you never want to show your face again.

But you had to.

You had to fight another needless round,

Over and over again,

Always coming back with a new scar

Each time you took a turn in this never-ending circle

You found a new way to twist your self image,

To break yourself inside,

Made you want to punch,

Kick,

Scream out loud

STOP!

 

…And let me tell you,

A simple layer of foundation isn’t going to fix you

 

Mirror, mirror, the only one of who’s image you control,

the one part of you which makes you feel whole,

Shove them, you’ll feel quite warm and cuddly,

Without their words which make you feel ugly.

If you broke the mirror in your mind because you weren’t attractive enough,

Then shove it aside, break through the bluff,

leave the labels behind, get a new mirror

Because you’re only beautiful if you say you are.

 

Don’t let our nasty words get to you,

Guys are horrible, of which you should have a clue.

Take my advice with a grain of salt,

Not every boy displays these faults.

 

We have our moments we wish we could take back,

peer pressure broke us, they made us crack.

If we fight against it, we’re kicked out, disowned.

Forced to live our double-edged misery, all alone

Do, speak, act as you please, it’s your choice,

I speak here today to but give you a voice.

I wish I could reap the rewards of the thoughts I hoard,

But I can only speak frankly to boys, who sit here bored.

BOYS! We’re not understanding, not getting on board,

girls are a whole half of life we’ve never explored.

Category: Areeb, Gr 10 CW | LEAVE A COMMENT
January 17

Remember How We Forgot

wabi-sabi-word-definition

Remember How We Forgot

Remember how we forgot that looks are not all that is important.

Remember how we forgot that being perfect is only an illusion,

that we don’t need to become objects that are praised by others for us to feel secure and happy.

Remember how we forgot that each one of us is a treasure,

that our worth is not directly proportional to how good we look.

Remember how we forgot that beauty is not just the outer shell protecting us from the world,

but instead it runs through our veins and makes us who we are.

Remember how we forgot that the heart yearns for love and affection,

not just for the way we are all sculptured.

Remember how we forgot that we always get the love we think we deserve,

not the love that moulds our souls into something else.

Remember how we forgot that beauty is not just in us but all around us,

that the moments we take to stare up at the starry night sky make us feel loved and content.

Remember how we forgot that we are all frosty snowflakes,

not two in the world that are the exact same.

Remember how we forgot that we carry our hearts on our sleeves,

not realizing the cruel people of this harsh universe are ready to step on it.

Remember how we forgot that beauty only makes an appearance when we decide to be ourselves,

otherwise it hides away behind the painted mask on our face.

Remember how we forgot to find beauty in the imperfect things,

that imperfection is beautiful.

Category: Gr 10 CW, Masooma, Poems | LEAVE A COMMENT
January 17

Open Heavens (Favorite Piece)

The divine chorus of angelic singing resonates throughout the devout cathedral, Jesus’ clear marble statue watches over his followers, shining in all his glory upon them from high above. People alike, gather to listen to the churches preaching’s like a moth drawn to a flame. Vibrant light from the glass stained mosaic window panes fill the intricate yet exquisite crevices and carvings the cathedral bares. Extravagant paintings mask the solid yet softly colored surface of the Gothic style structure, and create a modest presence of the Renaissance and Baroque elements. Carved limestone Gargoyles with wide spacious mouths and disfigured human-like faces, protrude from the exterior of the cathedral. Although they display an unpleasant image, they do serve a sort of symbolic reasoning, from two differing sides the Gargoyle is viewed as either a said ‘guardian’ of a building that wards off the depths of evil, or a symbol of hell, not that of Satan but merely because of the terrifying effect that radiates from its appearance. Cathedrals are majestic buildings that were meant to inspire admiration and piety to the visitors that enter and was often viewed by many as a representation of heaven due to its captivating beauty.Not only was visual elegance present in your mind, but the oh so lovely sound of the organ rings into your ear and is pleasantly accompanied by the bold aroma of  burning incense, which adds a pleasurable experience to your senses. At night the faint shine of the moon and stars illuminate and compliment the tranquil ambiance of the cathedral, it is somewhat dark and shadowy but the presence of the lord is forever instilled from within. The hushed voices of angels are not audible to that of human ears as they diligently observe and protect their heavenly palace rather than to be put to rest. When the dark hours end, the angels flap away with their hearts full of bliss as the luminous sun rises on a cloudless day, opening the gates to bring a new day.

Category: Faith, Gr 10 CW | LEAVE A COMMENT
January 17

It Hurts When You’re Not Smiling

For my spoken word poem, I decided to write about something that I felt was very important to me, which is smiling. But I found that with all the stress and homework that comes with high school, it was really hard to do this. So I decided to write about how smiling is a beautiful gift and we mustn’t forget to do it, as a little reminder to myself; because it hurts when you’re not smiling. 🙂 

~~~

Remember when you were little, like baby little?

How you would always have a smile on your bright shining face.

No matter what you were doing, you were always smiling;

showing your two front teeth.

Oh how excited you were when those teeth fell out.

You just couldn’t wait to put it under your bed

and wake up the next morning,

finding a gold coin instead.

The joy it brought,

feeling a gold coin in the palm of your hands,

it just made you so content.

But day by day,

the older you got,

the more your smile chipped away.

What happened my dear friend?

Did you forget how to smile?

Because it hurts when you’re not smiling.

Oh how you were born with such a gift God could ever give,

and you just throw it away like this.

A smile is a gift we all get

and you must use it to your full extent.

So what made you stop smiling all these years my dear friend?

Was it the monster under your bed,

who put fears into your head?

Or the tiger and the shark rocking the arch?

Oh how it hurts not seeing you smile.

When there’s so much joy the world brings.

The parties and the piñatas.

Don’t you recall such a thing?

Is there stress running through your body?

Or an anxiety attack or two?

I promise all this will be over,

if you just share a smile or two.

It hurts when you’re not smiling.

Don’t you want to smile and live a long life?

Or maybe even save someone’s with the big smile you grew.

Would a chocolate bar help you smile?

Or a dozen bucks or two.

What can I do to make you smile?

Please I’m begging you.

Won’t you start smiling again my dear friend?

Like the days before you grew old.

Isn’t your life missing something you wish you didn’t misplace?

The baby teeth made you smile,

even on those dark stormy nights.

Oh how I wish you didn’t lose the little grin.

Because money cannot replace such a thing.

Wake up from your old misery my dear friend.

Everything will be better,

you don’t have to pretend.

It’s the tough time like these

where a smile can put those days to an end.

Put all your worries behind my friend.

Because the world loves you,

and it hurts when you’re not smiling.

Video:

https://www.dropbox.com/s/hqxcie7vhjjltqf/It%20Hurts%20When%20You%27re%20Not%20Smiling.mp4?dl=0ideo:

Photo Credits:

http://media4.popsugar-assets.com/files/2014/01/02/804/n/24155406/578a1afcd0742d96_tooth-fairy-main.jpg.xxxlarge/i/Tooth-Fairy-Gift-Ideas.jpg

Category: Andrew, Gr 10 CW, Poems | LEAVE A COMMENT
January 16

Ventriloquist

i let You

speak for me.

You make

my mouth move.

But it is not

my words

i say.

It is Your words

i say.

And sometimes—

sometimes they

are very

ugly.

You have made

me so

ugly.

Yet i still seem

to smile.

But it is

not my smile.

It is

Yours.

Image source:

http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9xZYzEMQQ1k/S3ucNm07OgI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/_Qt08_10Hhk/s400/westonart.jpg

Category: Gr 10 CW, Jade, Poems | LEAVE A COMMENT
January 16

Angel’s Tears

A rainbow never feels insecure or unloved, a rainbow is like a butterfly. We often undermine the extravagance it takes to metamorphoses from something ugly to something beautiful. I suppose this is why I despise rainbows. They take all of the credit for something the rain helped create, they do not have to try to be beautiful, they just are. No one ever appreciates the underlying contribution rain makes in order for the rainbow to be as beautiful as it is; we are naïve to think that the rainbow naturally started that way. No one starts that way, it is inconsiderate of the rest of mankind for something to start off so perfect.

All good memories for me start with rain and end when the rainbow hits. Maybe it is just coincidental but I choose to believe that it is a blessing from the angels. My mom always used to tell me that when it was raining it was the angels crying from heaven; whether they were happy tears or sad tears we do not know but either way it is beautiful and it provided me with a sense of ease.

One memory that distinctly stood out to me was when I had just returned from a trip to London, England to visit my family. Living in Calgary we do not get a lot of rain so I believe that my appreciation for rain began there. When I was around seven years old I had a pooh bear umbrella with a blue handle shaped as a honey pot. When it began to rain I walked outside with my umbrella and a big blanket and I sat in the rain admiring it’s beauty. For once my head was clear and I felt content and unrestricted. It takes a lot to make me feel unconstrained but at that moment, something as simple as rain made me feel free.

This became a habit for me, one that I am not ashamed of because while rain is under appreciated by so many it allows me to be the exception. Loving the ugly more than the beautiful makes me different and unique. People are just not open to defying social expectations; even with something simple as rain.

For me it is never about the rainbow at the end of the rain. It is about appreciating the journey that rain takes before the rainbow ends the tears.

So can we not see rain as a blessing from the sky? Or when you watch the rain chase each other down the windows, how are you not invested in that race? How can you not be mesmerized by the personality that the rain displays? How can you not be thankful for angels tears?

Category: Cayleigh, Gr. 11 CW | LEAVE A COMMENT
January 16

What I Know to Be True…

We are birthed from our mothers womb.

Innocent,

yet once we consume ourselves into the world,

we become different creatures.

Life is a forever cycle,

death is ongoing,

and birth is common.

It is up to us to stop and look,

to stop and wonder,

to stop and realize

what life has made of us

before we get consumed…

we fail, we fall, we stumble, we face pain

but that is not what matters.

what matters is how hard we are able to get hit, and still get back up,

to either be pushed back down or rise sky high to prove what your really worth.

After all success is not determined by skill or talent…

it is determined by character.

Your ability to overcome those obstacles and think beyond them.

Your drive is what matters.

Your passion.

Your motivation.

Your inspiration.

For in the end we are all going to meet in the same place once again.

We are buried into the soft brown soil, and covered with green grass as a blanket laid upon us to silence.

We remain forever banished underground.

Surrounded by nothing but darkness.

~~~ Group: Manvir, Alisha, Andrew, Ziyana, Gavin~~~

Category: Manvir, Poems | LEAVE A COMMENT
January 16

Forced Sleep

You slide my eyelids shut

and braid my lashes tight

into silent, sleek ropes

of prison.

You pour liquid shadows

into the pupils of

my softening eyes,

so it hurts to see the light,

so that sharp glares spin themselves with

pain into the sleep-twisted

caverns of my mind, like

hard, unchewed food as it

slides down throats: scraping and

stinging and striking my

soft flesh.

You play lyrical lullabies on my

harpsichord-key teeth and

whisper to me tuneful fantasies of sleep

soft beds with smooth sheets.

You numb the throb and stab of a

fraying awareness… yet

you also sooth the demons-

who touch and flirt with my

insides until they seep blood.

You make me forget:

suffering does not equal serenity.

Sleep does not equal rest.

You play my heartstrings like

a harp,

you coax my frantic lungs

into slowing their pace.

Your teeth are pens seeping

ink into my bloodstream like a sedative,

You course through me faster

than adrenaline, but

just slower than panic,

seducing me into your

tyrannical embrace.

You hum sweet cradle songs

to the tide of my blood,

you match my breath to the

flutter of eyelids whose

tenants see worlds made

of fantasy gone wrong.night

And when my eyes do close-

you braid my lashes tight

into silent, sleek ropes

of prison darker than night.

 

 This poem is an expression of sleep’s oppressive nature. Perhaps few of us realize it, but sleep has become increasingly forceful in our lives, to the point where many of can barely function because sleep has a sharp hold on our minds. We covet sleep constantly, yet what we are really looking for is rest. Nevertheless, sleep clings to us all day everyday, and slowly seduces us into succumbing to its tyrannical and deceptively soft nature. 

 

 

Citations:

“Sleep Tight.” By Frankief on DeviantArt. Web. 6 Dec. 2015. <http://frankief.deviantart.com/art/Sleep-Tight-324800884>.

“Is Seven Hours A Night The Optimal Amount Of Sleep?” Fast Company. 22 July 2014. Web. 6 Dec. 2015. <http://www.fastcompany.com/3033373/work-smart/is-seven-hours-a-night-the-optimal-amount-of-sleep>.

 

 

Category: Gr 10 CW, Poems, Ziyana | LEAVE A COMMENT