Thanks so much, Moon Wolf! And congratulations to everyone, you all had such amazing poems <3

The next theme is Songs. I'll be judging September 16, is that ok? School is running haywire recently and I can't bring the date any closer. If its too long to wait, do tell me and we could settle on someone else to take over the judging.

A Bird’s Song

Twee-twee-tweet!

The bird calls out

From the tree.

It always sing

The same song,

Never tiring.

Why, I may ask,

Does it always

Do this task

Of singing?

Its tune always

Ringing?

That’s what I

Asked, and I

Wondered if my

Mind had gone

A little crazy.

Yet one day on

A stormy morn’,

When my life 

Was all torn

Apart, but still

The next day with

Nothing to fulfill,

The bird still sang

The lovely song

Still the same.

And now I can say

I know why the bird

Sang every day.

It’s to give to those

That are in the dark

A way to hope.

Song in my soul

Never thought anyone would hear it,

It's so hard to look at,

But it's the song,

Of my life,

Of my body,

And no one will steal it from me,

For as long as I live,

This song will keep playing,

The song in my soul. 

The song of the ocean

it is loud, soft

fierce, gentle, bubble filled

and stretches free to the horizon

The song of the forest

is filled with rustling leaves and creaking branches

bird calls and bug buzzes

animal footsteps and speech

The song of life

is full of the sound of hope and love

new growth and beauty

hardships and happy times

sadness and joy

The song of death

sounds of love and grief

tears and letting go

and second chances

The song of home 

Sounds like

hugs and fun

friends and family 

helpfulness, kindness, love and peace

The Song of the Soul

Staring up at the glowing moon,

she felt a strange sensation 

    calling,   t   u  g g ing   at her heart.

So she dug d

                   o

                      w

                         n  to the bottom of her soul

        to see what she had inside.

And song  of  l o n g i n g,

a song of bewilderment and disarray

SPRANG up and soared out of her mouth,

reaching to join the tune of the twinkling stars.

Serenading the glowing moon with 

                                      The Song of the Soul,

she felt a strange sensation w

                                           a

                                             s

                                               h  over her;

She knew, finally, her heart  r a n g  

                         true.

Songs

Walking down the street you here the birds chirping, the sun is shining

People are talking, there is all sorts of different things going on

There is music being played, people singing and dancing

You here one song that seems to stand out among the others

You like the music, the voices of the singers

So much about it stands out to you, you start to walk towards the music

You start humming along to the beat of the music, and the tune of the song

As you make your way to the music, you see another person also heading that direction

They seem to know the words to the song, they look over at you and smile

They seem to be leading you to the music, you start to make your way to a bridge off the street

Near the bridge you see a rainbow which seems to be making the music

Once you got to the bridge you gazed out at the rainbow

What Happens Next, does the rainbow talk to you or does it vanish, does the stranger talk to you?

That was actually my first time writing in second person with out trying.

i sat down to write and this is what happened. i strayed a bit from the theme - hopefully not too much? if i did, lmk and i can submit something else :D

an imperfect middle school dance

i only went to one middle school dance.

i wish i remembered more of it.

it was autumn, on the rooftop of my tiny two-story school building.

wet fallen leaves clung to the chain link fence

and pencils lay broken and waterlogged in the cracks between the rubber tiles i’ve tripped over too many times.

paper plates painted like jack-o-lanterns were taped to the walls

and the sky was as gray and heavy as concrete.

the school counselor was the dj,

and played billboard hot one hundred hits

over and over and over

from tinny speakers that'd be broken and thrown away by april.

(i never would've admitted it, but i liked those songs.)

i mostly stood against the fence,

watching,

waiting (for what, who knows),

the october wind snarling my hair,

copper strands snagging on the chain link,

and i shivered,

but i didn’t dance,

even though it would’ve warmed me up,

even though it would’ve given me something to do other than stand around for two hours 

on the roof in the wind,

because i’d rather be perfect, uniform wallpaper,

unnoticed, invisible, 

than a distasteful centerpiece.

i was the valedictorian, the nerd, the smart kid, the overachiever, the try-hard at everything except what mattered,

and i wasn’t supposed to dance.

i was supposed to get perfect grades—

i was supposed to be perfect.

but middle school wasn’t perfect.

i tried so hard to make it perfect that i sabotaged myself.

i made friends with textbooks,

learned not to talk to anyone 

because my success spoke for itself.

everything that mattered was in size twelve

times new roman font

with a proper mla heading. 

i was called the golden child,

but how could i have been golden,

when i was faded, the color of weak tea?

my trophies were golden, not me.

no, i wasn’t perfect.

nothing was perfect.

i should’ve danced more.

Snapshot 

a musing on the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice

when he sang for her, they say, the gods stopped to listen, 

that he poured his soul out in golden elixir 

and found in his love the courage to release it into our discordant world

the beauty—breathtaking—a sliver of heaven slicing through static

one dewdrop of clarity condensing against a windowpane

like a pebble plopping into a pond

lying down in an open field and staring at the stars

meeting eyes with a stranger across the subway tracks

the last glimpse of the fading glow of daylight

before you turn around and the record spins violently back into motion

but maybe that’s part of the beauty

because moment are fleeting, fragile gems

and memories are never quite the same,

never quite as sweet as the song