Decim

Hi my name is Decim, and I’m in charge of deciding who lived and who dies. My job on this earth is to sort through the waiting list of people’s demise, some may say. By doing this I determine whether or not someone’s death will affect the world around them in a negative way, and if that’s the case I will take it upon myself to grant the person in question a longer life, so they can continue living their role in hanuman society.  It’s not always I get to Lengthen someone’s life though. Most of the time I have to take it. I guess that why humans call us Gods of Calamity.

 Being a God of Calamity is hard. Humans think we are emotionless voids sent to earth to take souls. While some of our older Gods may be numb to the action, in actuality Gods of Calamity are just like humans. In fact we are recycled human souls. We get the souls of the humans that have committed great sins in their lifetime. While some Gods keep the personality and ethic of their human soul, many loose it and take on their own as centuries pass. I am one of those Gods and I do not want to be a God of Calamity anymore.

Riley Flaherty

Miss

You sat there motionless. I was watching you with all interest, wishing I knew what you were thinking. I thought about you, about how soft your lips would be as we kissed just once more. You were pale, but you lacked no perfection. I though about the first time we met, and how I stared at you in utter shock of your beauty. Now, Miss, I know things are going to be different, but I suppose I’ll have to keep going, right? I held your hand one more time and softly kisses your cheek as they closed the lid to the coffin and lowered you into the ground.

Maybe

The way you saw me was not the way I saw myself. The way you saw me was not the broken fragments of what I used to be, no, you saw me as the light reflecting off them. You did not see me as lesser than anyone. You saw me as the strongest person alive. You were a blessing as to I was a devil. A demon wrapped in a pink bow while you were an angel. But all I did was cause you pain. Maybe that’s why you left. Maybe that’s why you screamed my name while crying on your bathroom floor thinking, “your name is why I struggle to breathe, and I’m not even the dirt under your fingernails” maybe that’s why I should leave. If i can’t please you, who can I? You tried to help while the only way I stayed sane was to push you away as hard as I could until with my very last breathe I gave up. Maybe, just maybe, that’s why you left.

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Eyes like the ocean; dark and deep

Their restless color billowing over me

A smile like the sun, so radiant and bright

Seeing even a smirk is an amazing sight

Touch; gentle the like wind, so calming and carefree

I really wish you knew how much you meant to me

Hair so soft, and flowing along with the breeze

I wish everyone else could see what I see

Voice as loud as thunder, but as calming as the rain

Abusing your powers? Oh boy, what a shame

No longer shall I care about you

It is for my own good

So go on! Get out!

Before you’re gone for good

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My mind is traveling a thousand miles an hour

In the corner the rest of my body just sits and scour

I don’t think twice I think once and repeat it a million times

My thoughts have gone more sour than a billion limes

Dodging thoughts like my mind’s a mine field

My brain is eating up my confidence like a healthy meal

Hope I can relieve some of this with rhymes

I just keep fighting myself internally

Gotta keep on going… continue this journey

Feeling like my brain’s a stranger and I’m a mime

I don’t even know who I am anymore

As far as I know my old self went straight out the door

Just gotta keep telling everyone I’m doing fine

I gotta lie… gotta lie my way through life

Gotta keep my mind from winning this strife

 

From The Bottom

I am from a broken home.

From where it was just my two brothers, my mom, and I.

I am from times where we wouldn’t see our mom two through three days at a time.

From watching her work double shift after double shift after double shift.

 

I am from run down apartments.

From where basketball courts have either bent rims or ripped nets.

I am from where most people didn’t go to school.

From where I had to take two public buses to get to school.

 

I am from where people always say it will get better but it only worsens.

From a big city but it seemed like everybody knew everybody.

I am from where the good dies young.

From where it’s common for the parent to bury their child due to violence.
I am from the bottom but that does not determine where I’m headed!

Dear Penn Manor

Dear Penn Manor,

       Through all of the assembly’s,

       and learning how to read,

       to having my first real relationship

       you were there.

       You helped me when I needed help.

       You gave me hockey.

       I can never repay you for what you have done for me.

       But now I have to go out to the world,

       and make something of myself like you taught me.

       This is not goodbye forever.

       I will come back.

       You just need to know how much you taught me,

       and helped me,

       and watched me grow.

       Kayla Saylor

ILL

 

You know when your pen is running out of ink so you grab scrap paper to make scribbles and get it going again?

Those scribbles…that’s what it feels like, from your head to your toes weighing you down, with sharp edges that hook to your insides. It vibrates, consumes you.

                                      Hands shake,
nerves dysfunctioning,
                                                                                         completely numb,
             eating away at your skin,
                                                                       no such thing as an appetite anymore,
                         no such thing as a good time anymore,
                                                                       anti-social,
   draining every drop of energy you had in you.
                  And just when you think you found happiness, it takes that away.

Allergic to light so it gravitates you towards darkness. An internal conflict that’s visible from the outside. “What’s wrong?” “Why are you crying?“Why are you sitting in the dark?“Smile, why do you look so sad all the time?“What’s your problem?” You don’t even know yourself. So how do you get rid of this feeling? Well maybe “reading your bible” would help. Oh “did you pray?” Bring it up to the important people in your life just so they can tell you “God will take care of it, but it’s all in your head anyway.” Eventually you’ll subscribed a yellow bottle, and inside are some pills, what you thought would be the answers to your prayers. Yeah they took care of the issue after increased doses but what you didn’t see coming was this. Every time you open that bottle and take a pill you start feeling more crazy every time, mental, if you thought you didn’t belong then you really don’t now. When you go out people will stare, point, and even have the audacity to ask Why didn’t you just depend on God? So then the cycle goes on again. Does it end?

Jalissa Sanchez

Dear Penn Manor

Dear Penn Manor,

Thank you for teaching me so many things. Thank you for educating me, and teaching me how to be a better person. Thank you for introducing me to new people and friends. I have made some of my best friends at Penn Manor. I have also had some great teachers throughout the years who have taught me good life lessons. I have made many friends playing the sport I love here. Thank you for having a great softball program where I can see my friends every spring. The softball program here has become a big family, and I am forever grateful for that. Thank you for a great childhood with so many memories.
                                                                                 Sydney Duplissey

School Lyric

School should be a place of learning

Not a place of yearning

When I walk in, there should be a welcome of happy faces

Not a view of soldiers with briefcases

I shouldn’t be forced to teach some fish head

Or be threatened by protestors that wear t-shirts that are red

I know I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover

But when they have faces like that it’s hard not to hover

I think I may have feelings for him

And if they find out I’ll have a torn off limb

If only everyone were accepting

I wouldn’t have this problem with people intercepting

I have this strange feeling for this beast that nobody likes

But in the end I don’t care about all the hype

Hayley Way

Blue

My favorite color is blue because whenever I see a blue sky, I know it will be a beautiful day.  Blue is calming.  When I think of blue, I picture a warm day with a cool breeze swinging on the porch swing, drinking tea, and listening to the birds sing.

Miranda Phelan

Response To “Touchscreen”

      I liked when we watched the poem “Touchscreen” by Marshall Jones. He states in the poem that “You have three thousand friends on Facebook, but can only count five friends in your social life.” He also states in his poem how society is at the point where we communicate mostly through electronics. He believes that society needs to have more face to face interaction with each other rather than interacting over electronics.

                                                                                                             Tristin Musser

Downriver Poetry

  1. Haiku.

Jesse is a lost girl

Troy is very independent

They have chemistry

 

  1.  Cinquain

Freddie

Mysterious, quite

Loves to explore

Firm, does not change

Unique

 

  1.  Diamante

                     Troy

      Handsome, self centered

   Leading, competing, winning

      Muscle, hair, girl, wind

  Wondering, following, learning

               Cute, gentle

                   Jesse

 

  1. Epitaph

Here lies Pug,

He is quite smug,

He met poison ivy,

Now that boy is not so lively.

 

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Leaving Penn Manor

Dear Penn Manor,

         It has been a long haul, but now it is time for me to call it quits. You gave me lots of good memories and I thank you for that. I wish I could keep going, but my age says otherwise. Maybe we can meet up again in the end for one last time.                                                                                                                      With Love,                                                                                                                                    Andrew Eshleman