Page 28 - Horizon 17-18

Horizon 2017
28
Day 4 - Poem: noun, a piece of writing that arouses strong
emotions
Class: noun, a group of students who are taught together. I’m taking this English class, the instructor’s quite cool.
He has ways of teaching, I find unique.
Seldom do students slumber and drool,
Because we are encouraged to engage and to speak.
Seminar: noun, a conference or other meeting for discussion or training. A common method we use to convey
The thoughts gathering dust in our skulls
Is the seminar, an exchange or a fray?
Concepts collide both in classrooms and in halls.
Idea: noun, an opinion or belief.
Smiling with Shakespeare, chuckling with Chaucer, I have an idea about what we read.
Mulling with Milton and vying with Voltaire, Discussing how John Donne dove over my head.
Praise: verb, to express warm approval or admiration of. The teacher, he praises my clever insight,
And answers a question or three.
Information flows, knowledge takes flight,
It was as if our craniums were free.
Thief: noun, a person who steals another person’s property Another student raises a hand,
And conveys an idea resembling mine.
They feel no shame stealing, expression bland:
The thief of words so refined!
Solidarity: noun, unity or agreement of feeling or action, mutual support within a group.
A moment, a pause, no need to get annoyed.
We have solidarity in this class.
So what? My idea has been employed. We have the same goal: to pass.
Day 5 - Celestial Bodies
Brown wisps of hair tore through the air
As the romantic soul leaned precariously over the railing. She tilted farther and farther, seeking the perfect angle For a photo of the stars under the city skyline.
She pressed the button on her slim tablet,
Snap. Click.
The device documented her findings:
A beautiful sprawling metropolis resting on the underside of the lunar sphere, Glowing rings wrapping around the moon,
As dust and debris congregated.
She went back to the camera, ready for another picture.
The clusters of nebulae, dwarfs, and planetary bodies,
Filled the screen with wondrous twinkling light
Against the inky black of outer space.
Millions of tiny windows gleamed,
Much like the stars in the sky and on her cheeks.
No that was wrong... She had turned the camera the wrong way. Snap. Click.
Her dark, freckled face stared back at her,
Wide eyes like gaping pulsars in the abyss.
A dusting of tiny galaxies swept up by the fiery blush of a red giant. A mistake indeed, but he would say it was beautiful.
Day 6 - Celestial Minds
The realistic soul watched his blank ceiling,
Tethered to his metal ‘friend’ by a tube snaking down his arm. He hated these empty walls so much,
For the sympathy was almost worse than the apathy.
A drip, drip, dripping filled the void in his head
As his steel companion cried for him, as his lifeline coiled tighter to hold on. He hated the white sheets and sterile smell...
What a terrible place.
These pathetic thoughts, interrupted by the familiar buzzing Of a real kindred spirit,
Unlike his artificial surroundings.
He lifted his tablet from the bedstand and set it on his lap, Its cord tangling
With that serpentine inconvenience,
His ‘friend’ more like a warden.
Did he really even care?
A click and a tap later, the realistic soul was viewing something Far different than the blank walls of his infernal cell.
Like the knotted cord attached to his metal jailer,
Galaxies tangled across the prison walls in a spectral array. Familiar images and unknown ones,
They all danced before him.
Places around the universe he had always wanted to go.
Andromeda, Triangulum, Cosmos Redshift, lovely expressions.
Ursa Major, Minor, the sweet songs that sang through the silver screen, The laughter of his adventurer
As a shaky video camera captured the comets shooting across the sky. Make a wish.
He wished he could be there too.
Day 7 - Iris
Blue petals scooping out from the center Of his eye. Allowing light to enter
But not to leave. The leaves
That form his lashes, weave
A spider’s lattice, to catch hearts. Seldom do the trapped depart From the fresh dew drop-ped web, For their souls recede and ebb, Deep into his somber eyes.
Those Irises, they hold the prize.