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Series of Poems by AS

1/11/2022

Photo by Erik Kossakowski on Unsplash

Lost Forest Needs a Prayer

A hike with my dad through what’s left of our forest
Pines, tall and admiral, now nothing more than human collateral,
Left a saddened feeling from the blackened trees for us,
This is where a campfire destroyed what was natural.

No more nests hidden in secret among the leaves
No more hawks screeching for his mate,
No more tiny birds chirping at Blue Jay thieves
No more bald eagles, unknown is their fate.

Where animals once flittered about the woodlands
Where the single white three-petaled trillium was so rare,
Now, we must be wary of scary shadows the sun commands
This once lush forest is lost without a prayer.

A prayer so humans are never a threat
A prayer so the rains can bring back what we once sought
Prayers that we can all pay the forest our debt
We cannot lose our forests, we cannot.

In the Forest

A hike with my dad through the once majestic forest
Left a saddened feeling from the blackened silhouettes,
Trees, tall and admiral, now nothing more than human collateral
This is where a campfire spread without regrets.

No more nests hidden in secret among the lofty branches
No more hawks soaring for a mate to obtain,
No more tiny birds chirping or green-headed hummingbirds slurping
No more bald eagles, the woods to reign.

Where animals once flittered to one bush then another
Where the single white three-petaled trillium grew, oh so rare,
Now nothing but a dreary and almost eerie silence has taken its place
This is once lush forest needs our prayers.

Prayers that humans are not ever so careless
Prayers that the rains erase what is, to bring what is not,
Prayers that man’s debt no longer breeds a threat
We cannot lose our forests, we cannot.

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Gazelle in a Field by Anon/student

11/12/2021

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Gazelle in a Field

Well here goes nothing, another horrible lunch break. Most kids would say that lunch is the best part of school, but for me it’s a nightmare! No it's not the cafeteria food, I’ve never actually eaten cafeteria food. My problem is the other students. You see, I have REALLY bad social anxiety. Everytime I walk past the other kids I feel like a gazelle in a field of cheetahs. I always worry that they’re going to pounce even though nothing like that has happened in years. My anxiety has gotten so bad I haven’t eaten lunch in the cafeteria since middle school. One year I stopped eating lunch all together, and that really had a bad effect on me. Now I can’t eat lunch if other students are around. Which pretty much never happens, so I’m that weird kid that hides behind a building. “Cora?” I turn to see my teacher with a concerned look on his face. “Are you ok?” I lie, “Yeah I just spaced out.” My teacher nods and I leave the room.

Time to make my walk across the blacktop, or as I like to call it, The Field of Death. I need to make my way through to my safe place, hoping for my sanity that the cheetahs leave me alone. Making my way through the field I see different groups of cheetahs enjoying their meals and chatting. There’s multiple groups of intimidating females that I assume are looking for prey. There’s groups of active cheetahs playing sports of some sort. There’s also groups of little cubs, and even some of those look scary to me. I pull out my phone to pretend I’m texting someone in hopes that they won’t bother me if they think I’m busy. Almost there, as long as I don’t trip or mess up I should be good. Come on Cora! You can do this! I make it inside through the door and all my fear disappears. At last, I’m out of the Field of Death!

As I continue walking through the hallway I see a few of the lions we call teachers keeping an eye on the cheetahs to make sure they follow the rules. I have to say, I feel more at ease when a lion is nearby because most cheetahs won’t attack with a lion watching. Over the years, I’ve found multiple things that can help me calm down. Such as fidgeting with an item in my hands, thinking about the confident characters from the stories I write, or walking with another gazelle. Although I can’t do the last thing anymore because I don’t exactly have any friends at school. I know I’m not the only gazelle out there, and I know that we can make it past this. It won’t be easy, but if we give it our all we can make progress.

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Lost! By A.S.

2/1/2021

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Photo by Dmitry Mull/Unsplash

A cold wind from the east made me zip my jacket all the way to my chin. I knew several hours had passed since Blue wiggled out of her leash and chased that stupid rabbit across the creaky old foot bridge over the mountain stream where we camped in the Cascade Range. She just kept running and I did too. We went through the brush, dodging tree branches that swung back and hit me in the face, but no matter how fast I ran, Blue was still way ahead. All I could ever see was the tip of her tail diving under another bush. When I made it into a small clearing, the rabbit was gone and so was Blue.
“Blue! Where are you girl?” I called, but she was nowhere in sight. I needed help, but getting Mom and Dad meant another lecture. I could already hear Dad saying, “Nikki, you’re only eleven! I told you not to go into the woods by yourself!” The problem was all I could see was trees, trees, and even more trees that were so tall I could barely make out the sun. I was lost!
“Blue! Come girl! Mom and Dad have to be looking for us by now,” I yelled but there was no answer. Not one bark! How could she have done this to me? I thought as I tried to remember what dad told me to do if I got lost. He said that moss grew on the North side of the tree, but none of the trees had any moss. Besides, knowing which side the moss grew on wouldn’t help me anyway, because I couldn’t remember if our camp was South, East, or West of where I was now. Then, I remembered the whistle he gave me, and reached into my pocket, but it wasn’t there. It was probably sitting on the picnic table next to that hamburger mom was barbequing for lunch. My stomach wished I had it now.
I decided to climb to a higher spot to get a better view. “The higher, the better, Nikki,” Dad always said when we hiked. “You can see where you have been and where you are going when you are on high ground.”
The only place higher was a tree covered mountain about a thirty-minute hike away. I started off. It took me a lot longer than I thought to reach it, but it was a good decision because a deer trail led me to a small pond and a narrow creek. Man, was I thirsty! The water was super cold, but boy, did it taste good. The sun was almost down, and it was getting dark. “If you’re lost, don’t walk at night. You will get hurt,” was something else Dad told me, so I decided to bed down at the bottom of a huge fir tree near the creek.
I had just closed my eyes when I heard a loud splash coming from the creek. There was just enough moonlight to make out a huge, black shape in the water near the bank. I knew it couldn’t be dad. It was too big. Then I heard the snorting noise that jolted me to my feet. I thought about running, but then Dad’s voice flooded my mind.
“Never run from a wild animal, Nikki. Just make yourself look bigger and wave your arms.”
Sure, Dad, I thought, when did you ever have to face a wild animal in the middle of the night all alone?
“Okay, you can do this,” I whispered to myself, “Get up, and act bigger than you are and make a lot of noise.”
Slowly stepping into the open, but not too far from the tree in case I needed to climb it fast, I started yelling at the top of my lungs and waving my arms wildly. “Hey! Hey! Get out of here!”
It didn’t work! That huge mass stood on its hind legs and roared. I never climbed a tree so fast. I didn’t need to look back because I could hear the bear’s sorting and snarling getting closer. I had barely made it to the first limb when the bear was clawing at the tree trunk. I figured I was a goner when the bear’s huge paw hit the trunk just under the limb I was clinging to, but just as I started to kick at it, Blue came out of nowhere and sunk her pit bull teeth into the bear’s leg!
The fight was on! Blue was growling and shaking the bear’s leg side to side. The bear dropped back to the ground and took a swipe at Blue. She tumbled into a bush but came right back at the bear. The bear roared and snapped, but Blue didn’t let up. She tore back into the black beast until the bear finally took off. I scrambled down the tree.
“Blue! Blue! Come here girl!” She crawled toward me. “Oh Blue, you’re here. I can’t believe it. Where did you come from?” I had a thousand questions, but they all stopped when I felt something wet covering her left front shoulder and heard her whimper. I took my jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulder.
When the sun finally came out, I cleaned Blue’s shoulder with water from the creek, and packed it with moss. The wound didn’t look too deep, but she would never make it on her own. She was too heavy to carry, so I made a stretcher for her from two fir branches and my jacket. I climbed the tree as high as I could to get my bearings. I spotted a road to the south. I could tell it was south because the sun rises in the east. I climbed back down, grabbed the sled, kept the sun to my left, and headed south.
We were about halfway down the mountain when we heard a rustling in the brush on the trail. Blue started growling, and the thought of that bear flooded my mind so much that I almost ran, but Blue’s tail started to wag. The best thing I ever saw was my dad and mom running up the trail to Blue and me. Being found is so much better than being lost!

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Road Trip Havoc by K.M

1/22/2021

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Photo by Dino Reichmuth on Unsplash

I’m Kate. The story I’m about to tell comes from when I was younger. It took place a little after my seventeenth birthday. Back then I typically dressed in a t-shirt and shorts on summer days and my long, blond hair was always in my way since I never bothered to put it up.
One sunny afternoon my best friend, Scarlett, approached me with an idea. Scarlett has red hair, brown eyes, and skin like silk. She is always planning ahead and convincing me to do things I would not do if she wasn’t around.
“How would you like to go on a road trip with me?” She inquired with the tone she uses when persuading me into something. Her normal voice is full of kindness, but when she is persuading me, it sounds like one of those car dealership employees that are always trying to swindle you into something.
“It depends on where you were planning to go,” I replied.
“We will drive from Washington to Monument Valley in half a week and spend the rest of it exploring the park. We’ll then travel through Utah to my aunt and uncle’s house in Idaho by the end of the second week. The last four days of our trip will be spent heading home to Washington. Your Volkswagen will be our mode of transportation.”
This prompted us to plan our route and cram the back of my 1972 Volkswagen with our gear. We decided it would be fine to sleep in the Volkswagen with our sleeping bags.
The morning of our departure was bright and sunny. We were ecstatic to start our new adventure.
“Remember, we’ll try to contact you in between here and my aunt and uncle's house, but there might not be cell service,” Scarlett reminded our parents. Most parents would not have let their children run off into the wilderness without them, but our parents weren't most parents. They believed we should explore and figure stuff out on our own, even if it meant we learned the hard way.
As planned, we arrived at our chief stop, Monument Valley, three and a half days into our trip. We started down an old, unkept mining road, noting no one else was on it.
Around 5 p.m. we halted for the night. Consulting our paper map, we discovered we’d made 50 miles into the park that day. This is as far as you could travel into Monument Valley without a guide. Our camp was made on the sand and siltstone valley floor. It was surrounded by large, majestic, rocks. They were small compared to the gigantic rock formations Monument Valley is famous for. There was great silence. When there was noise, it was mostly the wind whistling through the dry sagebrush. The heat of the day was just starting to cool.
When morning found us, we packed up the Volkswagen and climbed in. I turned the key to the engine, it rumbled, chugged, and died. Scarlett and I tried everything to make it run, still nothing.
“We’re in trouble,” I worried.
I had good reason to say this since we had no cell service, only enough food, water, and gas to last us three days, and no one was expecting to hear from us for another week.
“Let's wait here and see if anyone comes down the road. If we see no one in two days, we will reevaluate our options,” Scarlett suggested. This seemed like a reasonable plan, so I agreed.
We made a fire that night to keep warm. The firewood was set up next to some rocks. Just as we finished setting it up, we heard rattling.
“Rattlesnake!” I cried, but it was too late.
Scarlett hollered as the rattlesnake sank its teeth into her leg. The snake aimed for a second strike, but Scarlett had flown away from the rocks so fast the snake had no time to make another move. I knew the victim of a rattlesnake needed medical treatment within two days, or they may not survive. I set Scarlett up in the Volkswagen making her as comfortable as possible.
In a panic, I tried to get the van to start. I soon realized my efforts were pointless.
“Tomorrow morning I will walk the 50 miles out of the park to find help,” I told Scarlett once I was certain the Volkswagen did not work.
“No, there are too many ways for that plan to go south,” Scarlett retorted.
“You will die if you don’t get medical treatment soon!” I exclaimed. Right after I said this, I wished I hadn’t. For I could see the fear this realization brought to Scarlett's eyes. She was silent for three minutes, which felt like an eternity.
“I would rather see you live than risk your life for mine,” Scarlett said after much consideration.
“If you were healthy, we would go together, but you’re not, so I have to try,” I refuted. Scarlett subsided knowing she would not be the one to win this argument.
At dawn I was only able to fit enough supplies for one day into my small daypack. We said goodbye, knowing it may be the last, and I set out. My heart was heavy as I trudged along the dusty, dirt road alone. The heat was almost too much to bear. By 8:00 p.m I was exhausted and knew I needed to rest. I ate all of my food and water, thinking I had traveled farther than I really had. I curled up into a ball to go to sleep. All I could do was hope my best friend was still alive.
At first light, I began down the desolate road once more. The heat was unforgiving, and with my water gone, my mouth felt drier than it had ever felt before. With no one else on the road to talk to me, my mind wandered. In the complete silence I thought about my family and all of the good times. I wound up thinking about Scarlett. This is when my mind pivoted from the happy memories to the depths of my darkest thoughts and fears. I tried not to wonder but it was no use. Finally, I got to the point where I had to put all my energy into each step. I felt I may be too late. For if my friend was gone, what was the point of all my efforts?
This is when I saw a flash of light in the distance. My hopes spiked. The light was the sun reflecting off the window of a building. I no longer trudged, but with a positive mind, walked my fastest to the town.
When I arrived at the emergency clinic, the first thing I did was mark a spot on the map where Scarlett was and tell the medical workers she had been bitten by a rattlesnake. The medics were distraught when they heard how long it had been since Scarlett was bitten. They sprang into an ambulance and drove straight into the desert. When I saw Scarlett, as she was being taken into the clinic, I felt my heart lighten. It lightened even though Scarlett was white as snow, too weak to smile, and her eyes looked like they were somewhere far away.
“She will be alright,” one of the medics told me.
  At that moment I knew everything was going to be okay.  I learned a valuable lesson on that trip. Don’t take a friend for granted. You never know when it may be your last day together.

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Douglas and His Side of the Story by A.M.

1/21/2021

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Photo by Alexander Andrews on Unsplash

A brisk breeze containing an aura of pine navigated its way to a log cabin. On the stoop of this cabin was a brown, faux fur, barrel chair. Atop this chair sat a red fox.

  “Greetings,” the fox started in a silvery tone, “My name is Douglas. Yes, as in the evergreen tree. I believe you already know of me but of a different title. I am one of the characters from a common children's story most of you have heard of, The Gingerbread Man. It holds many faces including a gingerbread man, others, and myself, the handsome fox, who as the story goes is supposedly wily.” Douglas’s silvery tone suddenly quit at the word who and turned taut. His silvery tone immediately drowned out the taut tone as he continued, “The tale you have heard for years is mostly made up of, lies!” This taut tone must have fought hard, for it went off like fireworks at the word lies, before again being crushed by the silvery tone. “Ahem, where was I before the narrator so rudely interrupted? Ah yes, I shall tell you my side of this story, the true story of what happened to the gingerbread man.
“It was back on a sunny spring day. The flowers were in full bloom, birds singing their hearts out, blasting your ears to pieces as they sang over each other. It was an average day in spring.

“As you know, the old lady was bored, so she decided to bake. To amuse her husband, she made her gingerbread in the shape of a man. Just as she opened the oven, he jumped out, sprang through the window, and was down the street in a flash!

“While he dashed from the old lady, he sang out, ‘Run, run as fast as you can, you can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread Man!’ If you don’t mind, which if you do I don’t care, he was quite the braggy little fellow. Don’t you agree?

“Chugging along after that, by the time he was tired of fleeing like a coward, he had quite the mob chasing him. But, alas for the group and yippy for the Gingerbread Man's sake, no one could catch him. Not the old man or old woman, cow nor horse, neither chicken nor pig with piglets could catch that quick little Gingerbread Man.

“During his flight, he, whenever someone new joined the procession, would sing out his main line, ‘Run, run as fast as you can, you can’t catch me, I am the Gingerbread Man!’

“After losing the group, the Gingerbread Man came to a river with a fair current. The other side held a great wood containing many pines, willows, and oaks. He wished to cross the river, but he could not for he would get wet and become soggy. I knew the Gingerbread Man’s predicament both with the mob and the river, so I decided to help the poor guy out.

“‘My name is Douglas,’ I called to him. ‘I can ferry you across the river.’

“‘Of course, you helping fellow want to ferry me. No, you just want to eat me for dinner like the rest, Fox!’ exclaimed the Gingerbread Man in a sarcastic tone to start, ending in resentment.

“‘Eat you for dinner? Ha! You aren’t enough for a meal. Even if you were, I couldn’t eat you. I am allergic to ginger and will have a bad reaction! Do you want help crossing or not?’ I replied.

“‘I do want the help, but what do you want in return?’ declared the Gingerbread Man.

"‘I will tell you that when we get to the other side. Get on my back!’ I commanded. The reason I would tell him on the other side, for your information, is I wanted to help him for free, but he might not accept it for that price.

“After swimming half the way across, the Gingerbread Man’s placement started hurting my back. If you don’t believe me, how about you carry a man made of gingerbread on your back, who took up a fifth of it, while swimming across a river with a strong current. He was also slightly burnt, so he was very bony.

“‘Could you move to my neck please?’ I called over the river’s flow. The Gingerbread Man kindly obliged, but after a little more swimming, my neck cramped up, so I asked him, ‘Could you move to my muzzle?’

“‘Is this better?’ he asked when he had arrived there.

“‘Much,’ was my reply.

“Just as I got to the opposing bank, I slipped on the mossy rocks and almost went under, instinctively throwing my head up and taking a gulp of air. When I did this, The Gingerbread Man fell in. It was horrible! I almost choked.

“I myself had to flee into the woods after Alfred, the very annoying, nosy duck, saw it all and told everyone. The town still to this day tries to hunt me down for not sharing the Gingerbread Man! Alfred didn’t hear and see everything, but instead just filled in the holes with assumptions! The allergic reaction to the ginger happened when I was hiding in the woods and was dreadful. I built this cabin out in these woods, on the far side of the river, staying here ever since. I must disguise myself every time I go into town. It's atrocious! Now that you know the true story, can you please get my lawyer? If nothing else, tell people what really happened!”

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Series of Poems by AS

Gazelle in a Field by Anon/student

Lost! By A.S.

Road Trip Havoc by K.M

Douglas and His Side of the Story by A.M.

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