T h ef P o e t r y dH i v e

LITTLE GIRL FALLS

Run scream giggle/The little girl falls/In a world of mud/Dirt/blue skies/Green grass/Earth worms/And pond scum/Little girl walks the railroad tracks/Holding her momma’s hand/Watch out for that train girl/Watch out for those big eyed boys/Trying to grab your hand/"you don’t want to grow up"/that’s what they all said/ Thought she’d be freer when she was all grown/little girl is that you?/I can’t see through the mud/Hands and feet/Face/body covered in earth’s love/It was simple then/Standing on the front lawn/With a water hose and a bar of soap/Aimed as a gentle weapon/Ready to wash away her sins/But things have changed/Little girl fell/Into a world of people/clones with their money, big hair, sleek hair, and lies/waiting to condemn/Running screaming/Laughing till you cried/Try to remember little girl/What you left behind/Remember the bike rides/The scars you righteously own/Battle wounds/Smiling eyes/Waking up with gum in your hair/And not giving a damn/Dirt underneath your finger nails/And ice cream stains on your chin/Little girl fell/Make your mama proud/Stand up straight/Eat like a lady/And don’t talk so loud/Little girl fell/And now it’s hard to type/With these fake nails on her hands.

-JonAnne 1998

POPULAR GIRL

You're the eye of everyone's envy,
Mine included, too,
You're the best that there is to come,
They want to be like you.
There's always a smile on your face,
Though sometimes it's displaced;
You know what you want when you see it,
And then you forever work to be it.
Everyone thinks your life's a ride,
With your man by your side;
But in reality the roller coaster highs and lows,
Just make you want to sigh and bow.
They say life is queer with its twists and turns,
And even you will start to yearn,
For a life all your own, Without the popularity loan.
And some people will always think you're a big shot,
And some-maybe not,
You'll carry the title through thick and thin,
Of a princess with a basketball spin.
But remember this-if you can,
You'll always be you-with the tan,
And friends we will stay,
Forever and today,
Past our dying day.

THE ORIGIN OF THEORIES

A paranoid, coffee drinking
Chain smoking
Philosophy major sat in the
Dark
2:30 A.M, unable to sleep
Too many unanswered questions
Hands trembling, teeth chattering
He shoves the Starbucks mug
In his face once again
Caffeine...Caffeine...Caffeine...
Out of the window, the freedom
Which chases away the frightening concept
Of boredom, glows through the moon and
Dark, unrevealing sky
Enigma...Enigmatic...Enigma...
He thought wildly
The clock ticked
The bed springs creaked
The sound of car breaks and
Late night binge drinkers flowed through the
Window
"Noise equals life!!" he declares happily.
The philosopher's roommate, a drunken jock,
Wakes up and groggily shouts, "I disagree with
that theory. Shut up you hippie before I blow your brains out with the pistol I keep under my pillow." Silence ensues.
The roommate falls back to sleep, resting for tomorrow's hangover.
Back to square one, the philosopher thinks. He notices the
lava lamp, a radiating oasis of color emanating from the total
blackness.
Colors...Suspension...Gravity... -Lindsay, 16

CLOUD

the clouds laugh as i run home from a purple sunrise
breathing out breaths of wind with every pound i make on the pavement
why did i show up alone?
even in my sleep i can smell your scent
and taste your lips on mine
but you have already shape-shifted from a lover to a
no-gooder in almost
no-time

-E. Palmieri

HER ISLAND

And so she sat under a tree of unusual size
Chasing after something still latent for the present
And while she dreamed of potted flowers on window sills
And pristine country villages
The earth shatters
And all the sand crumbles away
As the oceans evaporate
Only she remains, upon the rock in which she sits
Alone
And underneath that tree
Of unusual size
She is no longer prolific with
Her romantic thoughts

-Lindsay, 16

>br>

PERCEPTION

She walks
Alone
Her bare feet crunch in the snow
Her dark hair scattered
Her dark eyes flat
Far ahead, a chimera in the blanket of white,
A small yellow light stretches brightly
Blinded, she staggers forward, grasping the snow
Hands frostbitten
She will continue to search forever
But without clear vision
Never knowing if the truth exists or not

-Lindsay, 16

BUT WHOSE TRAMP IS SHE?

I cannot find the words,
I cannot see the bruise.
The true thorn buried so deep,
so far, I don't see.
Why must I have their love,
Why must I need their love?
The simple beggars on the street,
An ankle, or a breast-
to please,
to tease,
to surcumcease.

I am the lady,
married or alive, I am a lady.
A mother, a sister, a daughter,
I am a lady.
What else can I show you (them)
I must ease up on my touch,
before it fades,
before it becomes dated,
unrelated,
to my hand.
I walk down the street,
forgetting these tangled thoughts,
I am on my way to church,
I am a lady.

-Lyndsay
(c) Dec. 1997

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