The Rondeau on assigned topic

Ryan Mendoza

A Blue Moon

Leaving the bar, Blue Moon on tap

The man stumbles, losing his cap.

He looks at the sky, and then screams,

Starts what happens in his worse dreams,

These two words, slurred from beer, “O CRAP!”

He vomits, waking with a slap

And then knows he is what it seems:

A drunk werewolf

Once canine, he hunts for a sap

When he sees one he sets a trap.

He gets the prey, the taste, he creams.

Done with the kill, he starts to scheme

How he can return home to nap.

A drunk werewolf.

Sean Newell

Caged within the walls of my dorm

Boredom takes unusual form

Most time is spent just scraping by

Or watching TV while I’m high

Writing songs to later perform

Instant soup, picking out the corn

Every day new clutter is born

We’re just a pair of lazy guys

My dorm is pretty sweet

An antique rug over tile worn

With scattered clothes as if by storm

Atop my bed I often lie

My dreams take me into the sky

Feeling safe beneath blankets warm

My dorm is pretty sweet

Hannah Obanni:

Tears fall down like swift waterfalls

Untroubled times she can’t recall.

No dam to hold the waters back,

Only a feeling could halt their track.

Persevering through the long haul

The river continues to crawl

Succumbing to gravity’s fall

The tears stream down the cliffs aged cracks

Waterfall tears.

As the water comes down the tall

Cliff above people stop enthralled

With the cascade. They’re taken back

By rough waters that don’t lack

Emotion. They’re touched as she bawls

Waterfall tears.

NICOLE WHITMAN

Where Spiders Crawl

Where spiders crawl flies always flee
As do sane people such as me
Always weaving their webs of doom
Encasing lost flies in a tomb
Hiding out in a covered tree
Making them tricky to forsee
Instilling fear in my body
Inspiring thoughts of dark gloom
Where spiders crawl
Spinning around the world as free
As their prey fly and honeybee
Like the bee flitting to each bloom
It moves about, glad to assume
There is nowhere it cannot be
Where spiders crawl

I had great sex
by Sam Hatamian

I had great sex, the condom broke
Life style condoms are but a joke
There was only passion and lust
Until I, decided to bust
For I had given her my yoke

What to do, I called my old folk
They laughed and told me to do coke
Buying Plan B it was a must
I had great sex

She took the pill and did not choke
I went outside for a long smoke
I thought that life was so unjust
That all things good can turn to dust
Never again shall I provoke
I had great sex

Catherine Stobie

Parks

"In Rolling Fields"

In rolling fields the grasses grow

Between the monkey bars, the kids go,

That offer hours of good times,

While old folks sit and write their rhymes,

Thinking about times long ago.

Into the ground the gardeners sow,

New seeds which they will have to mow,

In the background of singers’ chimes

In rolling fields.

Out from the bushes runs a do,

To escape what we do not know,

Fleeing scenes of what must be crimes,

While businessmen sit and count dimes,

Not noticing that grasses grow

In rolling fields.

IMAN HABEL

King of Kings: initiates the missions of the jungle with a start

The moon dancing in his eyes as the wind he shall act

His gaze as piercing as the siren's scream

His feet as swift as the wind shall deem

His hunger the feast of a thousand smart

His satisfaction the chase of a thousand art

as his nature as bold as an acrobat's extreme

King of kings

For he is a wonder who lays only for his heart

For his instinct stands ready to any and coact

For his touch is as dangerous as a lovers dream

As his meaning falls short if his kingdom falls apart

King of Kings

CLAIRE DURLING

On Cherry Street, the willows flow

Above the homes they grow and grow,

They smile and shine to those who see,

Their wondrous sight of might and glee

Beneath the green filled magic show

Smiling children laugh from below

Amongst the leaves, the cherries glow

As neighbors pass the big, tall tree

On Cherry Street

Tomorrow's dawn may shun the glow!

A summer's day, returned to woe.

Look on dear tree; go out, be free!

Your presence bound for it's destiny

Glorious light from hence we sow

On Cherry Street

CORY HASKEL

The fearless four, friends so true

Together for life unseen glue

Adventures through the parts unknown

Taking the hardships without groans

Their will unbeatable, it shone

They went to the valley Herscu

Quest for riches learned from a clue

The valley path small, overgrown

The fearless four

In the heart of the valley grew,

The precious herb, covered with dew

The prize is theirs, its value known

They fled from the valley of stone

They quest on, no rest for the few

The fearless four

NNEKA UMEH

Above Northern Norway are lights,

lights that glow up the sky at night.

Late autumn and early spring,

careful observations they bring,

a mercy with nature so tight.

A rainbow of colors at flight,

dance across the sky as a kite.

No place else displays such a thing

Above Northern Norway

Searching for duplicates you might,

phenomenon as colors fight.

10 min show, colors don’t cling,

they come and go October fling,

Above Northern Norway

FRANKEES SAMAD

Snow

The drops have hardened into snow

And now begins weeks of this white glow

In these white flakes the seasons change

Shoveled driveway, now rearrange

The life you had lived weeks ago

No more daisies for you to sow

Just fine winter coats to outgrow

All the while the grass grows strange

On winters day

And furthermore the wind does blow

And crashes into friend or foe

Without a greeting to exchange

From the suns rays we are estranged

The drops are hard, like dews of snow

On winters day

KATY RYAN

Dinner

The centerpiece looks oh so fine

With forks and knives, tonight we dine

Soup and salad, some this and that

We’ll eat until we’re purely fat

Served buffet style we’re all in line

Please finish yours, you can’t have mine

It’s getting late at half past nine

And no one can stop staring at

The centerpiece.

And what is dinner without wine?

Or possibly beer from a stein?

Don’t get too drunk, take off your hat

If you choke your back I will pat

Turn blue, I’ll whack with (‘fore you whine)

The centerpiece.

KATHRYN CHUN

The Future

Years before your infancy,

Before your cell-like infantry,

Formed a body in your mother,

You were spectral time inside her,

Waiting for destinies to see,

Spec, child, mother, all in agency,

Time declared its own cadency,

One in one in one another,

The future starts.

Seeds in seeds, like you in me,

Imbricate in brilliancy, ‘

Beginnings begin to smother,

Pasts and presents on each other-

But in life’s sweet alliciency

The future starts

The first constraint poems

SEAN NEWELL

Sit with me now if you happen to have the patience

And we can talk about some issues as touchy as illegal immigration

They put up walls, monitor our call, and give orders to police station

In order to confine and isolate the foreigners that enjoy our domestic occupations

But please don’t get it twisted, for these actions are in your best interest

Because now everyone from Stan and Ted to Nancy and May

Will resume the jobs of Guillermo, Eva, Gloria and Jose

It is indeed in this nation in which we will start to invest

I mean, we all know that American’s are superior in every fashion

Which is why all the greatest soccer players reside in Manhattan

Unfortunately this is far from true, and we need others to rake cash in

So why must the government reprimand and bash them?

Our morals and hearts must be in the same place if we are to tackle is obstacle

Or simply combine with Canada and Mexico and become unstoppable

This burdensome task is left to us, and to us alone

And maybe one day we will learn to let others call this place home

RYAN MENDOZA

Poverty

A house with everything one needs: toilet, bed, television, refrigerator,

Stove, water, clothes, food, ceiling, yard, and a happy family that

lives inside.

An image that resounds through the mind with a ring of perfection, of

fulfillment worldwide.

But the toilet is a hole in the ground, without lights, and

cockroaches crawling out through the night.

The bed is a lumpy mattress with sharp springs sticking out, thrown on

the ground.

The refrigerator is as small as college dorm’s, but expected to hold a

whole family’s worth of nutrition.

The stove has not been cleaned in weeks, covered in dust and clearly

in horrible condition.

The water comes from the hose outside, and us Americans are warned

drinking it could be fatal.

The clothes are from a lesser Salvation Army, ripped and dirtied, hand

washed twice a week.

The food is cheap beans and 10 cent tortillas: we thank them for their

delicious hospitality.

The ceiling is covered in spiders and hornet nests, fear causes sleep

deprivation for days.

The yard is overrun with livestock, garbage, free growing grass like a

jungle, poison ivy everywhere.

Yet the family had smiles on their faces and gave us everything they

could while we were there.

Their son never stopped smiling, emitting the eternal joy I strive for everyday.

The bright surface of the sun sending down only parts of its mysterious ways

To a lowly earth, never able to touch, smell, taste, hear, or even

stare at its beauty.

The key to Pandora’s box found at the end of the deepest trails, in

the most unlikely destination

But the most obvious when discovered, right under our noses the entire journey.

As clearly as possible it screams its message and for a moment I am

filled with a warm liquid,

But then I leave, board the plane and once again find myself in the

shithole despair called the greatest country in the world.

NNEKA UMEH

Stone Tears

The dream of a dying soul, confined, a trembling heart

She feels no fear, the answer inevitably appears, no one understands, no one cares

Embedded in her flowers, pain she can no longer bear

A means of escape that shuts the door, she longs to be free

Can’t you see the hurt, don’t you care? An unimaginable feeling amid

Lost, confused, and drained. She chooses death over endless pain

nights where constant criticism and anger remain, she is surrounded with

just silence, painful silence, and the cold discomfort

Of her masochistic fear, emotion too much to bare,

as mortal life mirages now appear, intangible as they are

No sign of hope, a dream of hidden death never seems too far

Insecurity takes over, the great surges of her feelings delay

Her emotions pick up power and seed, more and more by the day

Colors blur and outlines fade, eyes blinded by depression.

A blank expression, cold mist air , surrounded isolation

the mind seems to wander in its own world, a world where

time stops and nothing seems to change. Tears as hard as stone,

the blade embraces her arm. A slow cut, red covers her arm,

soon her leg, the white tile floor. Blood runs consistently,

she takes one more breath, did she say good-bye? Freedom, yes freedom.

Nikki Whitman

Fate

Life itself is a precious gift, granting us the opportunity to experience the world
However, how can we determine when a life actually begins?

Love runs rampant and new lives are conceived everyday our world spins
However, while some seek and cherish the product of a child,
Others fear with the creation of a new life, their own will come to an end.
But who do we deem credible to verify whose life is worth more?

Unexpected lives in today’s society are something many abhor
But not because they despise new life, or are jealous of a fresh beginning
But out of insecurities and fear that they are unprepared to support a new life
Hell many people have trouble juggling their own lives, let alone governing someone else’s
Therefore it is only a natural reaction to feel compelled to end the life before it begins
However, who gives people the right to sacrifice an innocent life to save their own?

This supposed right has provided great controversy in our society, as the polls and rallies have shown.
The crucial determinant is whether or not it would be better for the child to end their life
To be raised in some harsh environments, or by foolish adolescents, may indeed be harmful
However, many argue while adoption is an option cruel environments are no excuse
That is all they need to justify their position, as long as there are alternatives, abortion is not an option
The creation of a life, no matter how small, deserves the chance to grow into something more
Both sides hold promising arguments for their sides of the story
Ultimately, the destiny of every unborn child lies at the digression of fate.

Catherine Stobie

Illegal Immigration:

Across the border of the great red white and blue lines do those come

With their hopes, aspirations, and dreams of the warm American sun.

Some come by air, by boat, and across the pond they run

To enjoy the infinite possibilities that will lie within

To these folk, anything upon this God-given world will do

A house of shingles, even cards, and nothing of which needs to be new.

Working long arduous days for little more than a thank you,

But that is fine, common, normal, even expected

Thought to come from pollution, corruption, anger, and unimaginable violence

So this new place of hope is better…or so we would like to think

But it is time to stop and think about who is this ‘they’

And who is this ‘we’ that is spoken of in what ‘we’ do and say

So times were harder over across the bush, pond, and bay

No excuses for lack of books, education, and most all respect

We are red, white, and blue in unity, contrasting colors on the spectrum

Red for those places scorched dry from the light particles of the sun

White for those places dusted by the frozen incandescent snow

And blue for where the sea surrounds the moist warm air, where the palm trees grow

All brought to this one place, united into a lightened lavender

Among the garden, the desert, the plains that we call America

MATTTHEW VALERIOTE

There's a no-ganja zone across all these United States.

Public enemy number one lies not in the street but in the grass.

If I may be blunt, some serious change has to come to pass.

So listen close, bud, 'cos it's important you hear this if you value your rights.

If you don't speak up now, they're gonna bowl right over your pins.

And have fun explaining that one to your girlfriend - Mary Jane.

One moment you're listening to Doobie Brothers -- the next you're lying in pain

In cuffs 'cos today's the day they start to weed out the "real criminals."

That's right - you, dope - not the burglars and arsonists running rampant.

They know you're not good stuff, and it's definitely you who's corrupting our youth.

They saw you barreling down the street - caution to the wind - with that bazooka.

All the while, passing by in the bay on his boat, the reefer shakes his head at you.

While the farmer next to his hay looks on in disappointment.

Now MJ's bailed you out of the joint, and you're both out of cash.

You'll be lucky this week if you can afford to eat more than just hash.

While the moral guardians have dinners covered in gold leaf after cleaning up the trash.

Now you're at the mercy of old fatty, if I may be so brash.

Because those who decide right and wrong have found you, Black Bart;

They know you've got a cold, hard jive stick instead of a heart.

They got all the way to the root - because you let them start.

SAM HATAMIAN

POLLUTION

The churning monster spews ghastly vapors into the air
Weaving in and out of molecules placing them in chokeholds

Ash and soot cover the young factory worker like decaying mold
Life as we know it is tarnished by the taint of toxic waste, so dark, so cold
The spew of death, the evils of hell, compacted into such material
That we take in, necessary for respiratory goodness, for sanity

But what sanity do we experience when we live in an asylum of vanity?
Of filth and monsters, cluttering our minds, our way of being
So that those who live above the clouds of soot can drive a Benz
while the factory worker takes the bus with dying friends
The empty pipe emits green ooze into the pristine lake
Like that of an alcoholic vomiting its muck, curing itself

Glowing material lighting the ocean with slow and steady stealth
Until my child swims freely, innocent with no care in the world
Finally cancer strikes at young age, depriving him of birth
The world is so vast, we cannot see the end of oceans
We assume that removing our pollutants to distant lands enables disappearance
As if God's invisible hand made them vanish from the face of the earth
But in essence we are vanishing, as Gods hand punishes us for all we are worth