The Fields

The Fields 
By Meagan Sutherland

Run. That’s all I could think. My life changed from peace to tragedy in the blink of an eye. As I ran I heard the peacefulness of the farm go by. I faintly heard the cows mooing and the tree leaves brushing against each other as I quickly went past. I rushed towards the grassy green pastures and blue sky’s. Father was on my trail. He was still a bit far behind. He was an old man, in his late 50’s. He wore his overalls, covered in tractor oil and manure, his jet black books, soles covered in dirt and of course, his favourite, old, worn down Chevrolet baseball cap. “Get back here boy or I’ll whip your ass until it bleeds!” He yelled with his leather belt in hand. He may be old, but boy could he run like the wind. He wasn’t as fast as he used to be, but he still had that extra power in him. I disappeared into the wheat fields. Every grain of wheat hurting more and more the faster I run. Luckily the fields were tall and thick so you couldn’t see anything from the sides. As soon as I felt far away and safe, I stopped. “God damn it!” Father shouted. Making the fields ripple like when a drop hits water. I fell to my knees, heavy and weak. Almost as weak as my arms feel after we stack the bales of hay in September. My short brown hair covering my eyes as I look up to the bright blue sky. The warm July sun, covering my skin like a cozy wolf blanket. For once, it felt a bit calmer on the farm. As I bask in the glow of the warm sun and watch the wheat sway as the gasps of wind go by, the peacefulness suddenly vanished. I stopped and stared blankly into the mounds of wheat before me. No expression. Not the sense that Father was near, but something else. Something more dreadful. I slowly picked my body weight back up and stopped in shock. I couldn’t move. I suddenly remember that it was Thursday July 15, 1973. Thursday. Then the terrifying sound of wheat being cut started just north of me. My knees turned to jelly all of a sudden, and I fell to the dirt ground with a thud. Head in hands, I slowly look up at the sky for the last time. A single tear ran down my freckled cheek. The tearing sound getting louder and louder, worse and worse and snap. It’s all over. But how did I get here?

My Head

My Head

By Michael No Name

A marching band all in my head

I don’t want to get out of bed

It fills me with dread

Stomach full of lead, dead

Everyday is a balancing act but I got a knack for this

It’s whack

They're always telling me to pick up my act

It's hard to do while keeping my interest intact

Always forget to put my coat on the rack

Teetor-totter wobble

Crack my head open leak out my thoughts

I wish I could keep a thought for more than a second

Keep a verse and run through it, man, that would be heaven

But I gotta keep switching up sorry I get bored

They dont think Im listening

like I'm out of it, day dreamer, whistling

Listing these crippling, persisting, fears that fulfilment’s missing

It’s constricting

I wish I didn't have an excuse

I tried it one too many times it's no use

Its hard like red spruce

And sour like lime juice

Temptation

Temptation 

by Olivia Nitti

Between the sheets, we are safe.
As our love perpetuates,
Out in the cold and disdain.
There is our inevitable pain.
While the world around us grows thicker,
Our time together goes away quicker.

Be warned to cherish, and be sure not to miss.
The disarming embrace, of each time we kiss.
I wonder if you know, that our special place,
Is separate from darkness, it’s where I see grace.

Now what will I do?
When I have someone like you,
Who is holding me together, yet ripping me apart.
Who is the one, only being, in tune with my heart.
Overwhelmed by your presence, longing for your essence.
In fear you won’t be around, to hold me to the ground.
When everything starts slipping, as it usually does;
The one thing that is assertive, is painfully,
Our love.

We stand at the edge of the earth.
We could fall any second.
Standing on crumbling ground,
What is happening to us.
I am at a loss of what to do,
I knew I loved you.
Well, I think I do.
Which way will we go?
Into the abyss, never to be saved,
Or piece back together the stones beneath stolen waves.

Where Are You?

Where Are You?

by Olivia Nitti

We were lying silent and still.
Our faces were so close that when I fluttered,
My eyelashes touched your nose.
I felt safe, for the first time in a long while.
I could breathe without trying.
You were my breath of fresh air.
Yet still, there is this pitiful feeling that you don’t really care.
I wonder if it’s just me.
But as I read your signs,
All I see is in front of me.
Your heart and mind are elsewhere.

Redemption

Redemption 

by Olivia Nitti


But I am just a human.
A victim like some, an abuser like others.
My actions have isolated me.
Made me weak and terrified.
So I sit and wonder.
Who will recognize that I am more than my actions?
That we are more than our actions.

I Want You Anyway

I Want You Anyway 
By Olivia Nitti

Waiting for you is like waiting for a meteor.
To hit my world.
To set it on fire.
Let it explode with light and flames.
Until my world is burned out.
Until nothing is left.
All because that meteor came.

Only While I Am with You

Only While I Am with You

by Olivia Nitti

My words are like bile.
Like tears, like rain,
The starting never connects with the finish line.
Some viral of un-guarded emotions I cannot contain.

Ruins

Ruins

by Olivia Nitti

You open your eyes. I close mine.
I wish I could have seen
What went on in those eyes.
Out of touch, Out of luck.
If only it weren’t how it was.
We could love.
I don’t know how we got here.
No control, and I’m falling apart.
Then you trace my body, like I am art.
And all our troubles seem so far,
Although right underneath the surface,
It remains dark.

Paper Thin Walls

Paper Thin Walls 

by Olivia Nitti

With nothing more than a light tap,
These walls will fall to the ground.
They are so poorly built.
It wouldn’t even make a sound.

If you look close enough;
Not a common thing to do,
You would see they are not tough.
In fact, you could see right through.

Not quite sturdy enough to stand on their own,
No wonder they have built such a broken home.
One more loud slam of the door,
These paper-thin walls just couldn’t endure.

Though no one understands to treat these walls with grace,
Those who come along display such distaste.
Can’t you see these walls are completely alone,
so drawn out, weak, and worn to the bone?

And if they were suddenly to disappear, no one would miss,
Their faint inability to there exist.
Too paper thin to take any grit,
These walls will fall and crumble amidst,
The very few people who choose to care
A dangerous task. I’d never dare.

The tail (tale) of a squirrel

The tail (tale) of a squirrel

by Erika Sage

The squirrel was searching for a nut

Because he was hungry at that time of day

He finally found his snack but,

A bird snatched it and flew away!

The squirrel was upset for losing his lunch

And decided to look instead for a seed.

He found a bunch and was ready to munch,

But a chipmunk stole them all out of greed!

The squirrel was losing patience

So he started looking again and found a mushroom

But a dog was running towards him

So he decided to leave the fungi and zoom!

The squirrel was fuming like a flame,

But he stumbled across some bread.

And he decided, out of his hunger,

That he would have a sandwich instead.

Spring is Here

Spring is here...

By Erika Sage

Budding trees swaying

Flowers blooming in the grass

Spring is approaching..

The Falcon and the Rabbit

The Falcon and the Rabbit

by Erika Sage

The rabbit came out of his home

Who was intelligent but cautious to roam

But a falcon circled round

And the rabbit was found

But instead the eagle gave him a phone!

Nature's Questioning

Nature's Questioning

Erika Sage

You like to say that you like plants. But is that really true?

Do you like trees, growing up to be as tall as the sky itself?

Mosses? Covering the rocks like a warm blanket?

How about the venus flytrap?

Or a pitcher plant?

Or a lily pad?

Or even algae?

You may enjoy plants, but how about nature as a whole?

Do you enjoy hearing the birds chirping when you wake up?

How about the cool breeze blowing across your face on a particularly humid day?

Or the quiet pitter-patter of raindrops on your windowsill?

And the squirrel, climbing on trees while you’re taking a stroll in the park?

You might enjoy nature, so do you enjoy poetic works written about the subject?

Do you?

Well, let’s face it.

It’s only natural.

Aging Eyes

Aging Eyes

Bright eyes

Catch and release

Dance around

Fiddle with harmonies

Take my hand

Tell me a mystery

Guide my mind

Throughout our future history

Wild eyes

Breakneck rides

Stomp on dreams

Rip apart all the seams

Give me a power

Then you devour

Past smiles

Broken-down lies

Scared eyes

Cracked glass

Strained, empty grasp

Cold feet on the grass

Run your hand through your hair

Say you’ll always be there

Shifted aspirations

From subtle inspirations

Dim eyes

You think that you’re wiser

Tripping on nothing

A sadist deviser

Blurred lines

With an inconsistence

I keep forgetting

And you keep your distance

-Anonymous

The Green Mansion

The Green Mansion

By Olivia Nitti

There is no peace within these walls.

Don’t let the exterior deceive you.

Pretty with green eyes means nothing,

Not when you see its dimensions.

Through these walls,

You’ll find no light.

The floors are not sturdy, they’ll throw you off balance.

The windows look as glass, but feel one sided.

The locks turn just one way, so you’re sure to be trapped.

Don’t bother screaming.

You’ll only blend in.

With the rest of the terror, grieving, and sin.

You are not safe once you’ve entered this deceptive contraption.

The very minute you step through the door,

The very second your body is comfortably contained,

The hinges will turn. You’re overwhelmed with her suffer and pain.

One is only graced, if they avoid this cruel place.

So, I’m telling you now. Don’t take on this burden.

But take this chance to walk away, keep yourself safe.

After all this is a house, on a leash, with no way to chase.

Get Me Out of Here

Get me out of here by Sophia Bannon

Left foot. Right foot. Out of the of building with the blankets that smell of mildew and despair. Past the men with the big black boxes that make you hurt all over. Your feet walk faster as they turn and stare at you, even your feet know it is not good to be stared at long.

You are walking faster now. Running with frantic haste, tripping over rocks and crushing the grass, apologizing to them as you go.

You reach the beach. Sand, gritty and rough under your toes. Sharp rocks and slivers of wood, reaching out to you, wanting a taste of your flesh. They won’t get it.

You jump, spin and twirl, arms outstretched, breathing in the briny air. In front of you is the sea, waves crashing over each other, fighting to dominate, to survive.

Some of salty spray escapes onto your face. You lick the it off. Wind rushes over you. The sea reminds you of another sea, a different day.

The sea had decided to dance. The waves leaping in frenzy, sometimes coming on deck, asking you to join.

You were on the metal monster as it groaned and creaked, spewing forth thick, choking smoke.

You remember Mama pleading for you to come into the belly of the monster when the waves danced.

“Why do we have to go?” You asked Mama.

“It’s for a better life,” Mama responded.

Mama told you that they were leaving because of the war, that this new country would take them in. Mama said it would be hard.  Mama said that people in the new country didn’t like people like you. Different. Autistic.

Mama had said that they were refugees. Mama thought nothing could go wrong, that being a refugee wasn’t something bad.

But Mama’s gone. They took her. The people who called you retarded, the ones who called Mama dirty immigrant, they took everyone.

Everyone except for you.

That day you pressed your face into the canvas of the infirmary, the smell of urine and slowly dying flesh surrounding you. Though you felt the tears running down your face and you could hear the anguished protests of your family, the canvas yielded no comfort, it’s rough fabric unforgiving.

The dismal rain falls upon sweet prairie grass. You hear them coming. They will take you back to the place of prodding, cold that will creep into your aching bones.

The Inquisition

Crap,

I am falling,

Again?

So fall I will,

And?

Fall I do,

Because?

As long as the darkness,

Does not swallow me up↑

Then I can,

Fall?

as,

many,

times,

that,

I need to.

embrace

embrace

the sun caresses the horizon

it showers the treetops with delicate kisses

it tilts so others can feel the precious heat of its gaze in the sky

 the gift of growth and warmth

it explodes with passion

tinting the clouds with dedication

one of its many gifts to the galaxy of beings

the sun leaves when it is ready

it returns when it is fresh

to give thanks for the energy and love the sun relentlessly provides

is to feel and express praise to the rise and fall of daily life.

-Michaela Yarmol-Matusiak

love poem/4

love poem/4

as i lay in the field of wheat

i am

also running

through the gaps

in the tectonic plates at the core

the creek which balances my valves

Peach-scented dirt envelops my toes

the worms welcoming me home

as i lay in the field of wheat

i am here and there

i am the peaches which grow from the root

i am the plates that collide in chorus, making themselves known through devastation

and i am the seeds and strands of wheat which i lie in

which provide life and sustenance

i emphasize that i am part of the chaos

the bricks around me

We are each other

-Michaela Yarmol-Matusiak

love poem/2

love poem/2

Did you hear?

Can you feel it?

What!

I can’t hear you,

I’m sorry.

I love you!

I truly cannot hear you;

There is smog coming through my bronchioles and filling my lungs,

Chaos floods my ears.

Fires burn in my arteries.

My heart is being pumped dry of my sustenance, the oxides overwhelm the oxygen.

My capillaries are exhausted.

My legs will not stop shaking with the weight of the atmosphere.

Skin marred, my hands are unknown even to me.

There is dull constant pain throughout my frame,

But I will still hold you though.

What did you say?

When you fall, I’ll still hold you.

When your limbs are trembling, I’ll still hold you.

When you smile, I’ll cherish you.

I will always carry you home.

-Michaela Yarmol-Matusiak

jumble

jumble

the past is untouchable,

yet

it may wrench your hands into knotted root systems.

leaching water,

lack of nourishment.

weeds and delicate flowers which compete for space,

thought, nitrogen, carbon, worms.

in the chaos of new.

yesterday is the dandelion,

and the Queen Anne’s lace and the black-eyed susan plants

are both full of

commending, honourable traits.

although seen in different lights,

both have purpose in teaching how to interact,

with vivid days of sunlight,

and dreary days of hydrogen.

love letters and declarations of independence are one in the same,

desire and dependence rule them.

/i am the flowing ink of love that connects and divides

   hills and hawks and birds and bones.

/i am the free-flowing oxygen

circulating in an external, eternal embrace.

all mimic one another.

patterns and rules,

yet

to be understood.

-Michaela Yarmol-Matusiak