You name is . . .

Your name is Madam Matisse, known because of your husband’s color.
Just like the color he used on you . . .
Your name is Madam Matisse, known for your name,
Just like the name your husband has . . .
Your portrait is like a rainbow, long and colorful, shining proudly.
Your name is Madam Matisse, known because of your husband’s skills,
Just like the skills he used on you.
Your name is Madam Matisse, known because of your face,
Just like the face I drew.
Your portrait is like a garden, emotional and colorful.
Your name is Madam Matisse, known because of your husband and his skills . . .
Madam Matisse, you are a woman,
Like the women I know.
Madam Matisse, you are a flower.
The colorful flowers that bloom in my garden.
Madam Matisse, your face is great,
Greater than the seven wonders of the ancient world.
Your name is Madam Matisse, known because of your husband and his skills.
 

A drawing about diversity
that’s what this is
different colors,
different shapes,
just different,
yet they are all on the same canvas
have they had wars,
have they killed,
have they hated,
no 
why?
every color,
every shape,
and every person,
makes the drawing great.
Some stand out,
some blend in, 
but they all make the drawing great
the world is just a drawing
a bigger scale by far
but who’s to say
day by day
that we can’t make it great.
 

There’s a place called “Phillies’ Diner”
Where people often go
Where loneliness is contagious
And haunts the people so
And when the darkness starts creeping 
When everyone is gone,
The loners come to Phillies’ and sing their sad, sad song
But no one really listens,
And no one really cares,
Just being there with others
Prevents the nightmares
 

I sit on a stool
A canvas in front of me
A mirror right next to it 
And a brush in hand.

Hand moving swiftly
Across the white paper plains
Look, stroke, glance, brush, stare, sketch---wait
Are my eyes too big?

Correcting mistakes
Changed to what it ought to be.
 

A flower
A red flower
A blossomed flower
A pretty Flower

A flower made of many colors
A flower bright unlike any other
A glow strong enough to warm the heart
Freshly picked off the flower cart, flower

A flower with the power to make the sky shower
A flower made to devour those who are sour
A flower in a tower to make darkness cower
 

Boom, a sound like lightning wakes me in the night.
I hear people in the street running in fright
As I look out side my window I see soldiers fight
Bullets flying through the air and hitting someone
An innocent person lying in the street and more all around
The battle lasts for days and days, many more lives are lost
As the soldiers walk away and eerie feeling comes
I, my family lying in the street,
I can almost hear them in the wind
War killed my family and left me in the cold.
 

The head of a man
Is surrounded by orange
One eye being higher
Than the other

The large unibrow
Over one eye makes
You look odd 
And happy

The eyes have no pupils
Just ugly red circles
The nostrils are opposite of the eyes
You have no expression
 

As the storm draws near
Her mother calls out for her to hear
That she needs to come inside
It’s almost as if her mother lied

Why leave the fresh breeze
Running through the field sounding like rustling leaves
Or the faint taste of rain
That makes her go almost insane
 

She doesn’t want to go home
But stay free to roam
The gray clouds now flying
As her mother stays crying

So Christina gets up and goes
 

A wind blows across the wide open prairie filled with unrest,
The performers you see are truly the best,
Traveling far to make people happy across the sands,
They’ll have those people in the palm of their hands,
Though they look not like performers now,
With sand and dirt across their brow,
Soon they’ll appear on many stages,
To delight those of all ages,
They’ll use all of their costumes and props,
And on their trip to fame, make many stops,
But now, they’re still the performers same,
But they’ll soon be on the road to fame.
 

Waiting, wanting for something to come,
 A bright new future,
  A golden sun
Coming out on a rainy day,
 The joy of seeing that first tiny ray.
Waiting for something to come fast as fire
 An idea to strike,
  Just to inspire
Or waiting, waiting for someone to come
 To make you feel warm when you’re needing someone.

A Crisp Day
by Jessica M.

Feel the fresh breeze of a crisp wind
 Blowing on you pretty, pale face
Your dark brown hair flowing,
 Flowing with the dance of the air
Listen to the silence;
 to the sound of the blowing breeze
  streaming through the meadow.
The sun is hidden,
 Hidden by the threatening clouds
The rain will come, but you will stay,
  Sitting out in this wonderful crisp day.
 

A horse is a workingman’s best friend
They are faithful to the end
One’s life is coming to a close
You say goodbye and exchange a rose
All those years of faithfulness
And only time for one last kiss
What do you do when you friend is to die?
The only words to whisper are Why? Why? Why/
All you can do is sit and cry
They are now to lose everything they knew
All the good times just me and you
The years going by of growing the crop
Then it all ends when you drop
 

Time, it’s always there,
Always the same,
Never straying,
from,
Its unchanging straight path.

Though it may seem,
So slow at times,
When a birthday is near,
Or so very fast,
The night before a test.

The planes of time,
Stretch on and on
Straight and true,
As ever it was before.
 

In the Shadows of Chicago
Upon the top of broken buildings
Where poor men sleep tonight
Sleeping, Sweating, Shivering
Shivering for one ounce of heat.

In the Streets of Chicago
Blind men fear for their lives
Hoping for the cease of night
Fearing, Hearing, Nearing
Nearing to that final light.

In the Cracks of Chicago
Wild dogs live in the ally
Growling at one another
Jaunting, Wanting, Taunting
Taunting something to come near.

On the train tracks of Chicago
You will hear the deafening horns
Shaking all the buildings’ doors
Shaking, Quaking, Waking
Waking from the shaken floor.

How can you say, “I’m happy.”
When you can’t sleep without fear
All you are wanting is a bit of sleep
Wanting, Wishing, Waiting
Waiting for peace to come in the night
By living in the Shadows of Chicago.
 

Emotion, the scream
A natural reaction
from the realization
Of the world we see

Vision, Perception
The brains interpretation
Given to the conscious thoughts
Changing all our thoughts

Decisions, Logic
Considering perception
Then deducting and falsely
following instincts

Existence, screaming
Life, feeling meaninglessness
Realizing no reason
To go on, the Scream
 

I Am The Village
        The growth of a community
        The birth of a family
        Innocence and purity
        Not found, untouched
        By urban sin
        Working, understanding
        Between man and man
        Man and beast
        Family and family
        The envy the dark city
        Has for the village
        I am the village
 

Work that seems unending
Steel that is unbending
The job it is intending
To take my soul away

Pushing, pulling, grabbing
Throwing rolling holding
The coiling boiling toiling
Oh, every single day

Why will the night not fall
Why won’t the whistle call
Must make sure my hand won’t crawl
Into the steel beasts gears.

I want to get away
Be back at home today
I’ll get down on my knees and pray
That I will see a brighter day
 

Why always scream?
Screaming is a waste of time
time is very limited
don’t waste your time screaming
it is fine if you only scream when you are scared by someone
some are scared by shadows
some are scared by loud sounds such as fireworks
others are scared by really weird stuff like spiders
only scaredy-cats are afraid of spiders
they are also afraid of the dark
you have to be big big chickens to be scared of the dark
some are also afraid of waves,
some weird people!
 

How would you like to be so demented?
A 2-demensional figure who lacks proportion,
A man who needs body parts and symmetry too,
A man of derangement and too much distortion?

How would you like to live without ears?
To have nothing protruding from your head on the side,
To be a man deprived of a body that hears,
To have nothing to help your ear wax to hide?

How would you like to be circles and squares?
To have squares for a neck and such pointy shoulders,
To have such a round head without any hairs,
To have eyeballs that look just like loose rolling boulders?

How would you like to be so demented?
 

In the summer’s mist and breeze,
Flowers blooming now and then every summer,
Raining every other day,
The flowers get beautiful every day,
Swaying in the windy breeze,
Giving the trees more and more to see.
Blooming, blooming every day hoping summer will always stay,
Wishing days would pass slower as fall gets near.
The beautiful colors red, purple, pink, and white,
smelling like a warm summer’s breeze,
In a quiet summer’s night,
Hoping people will watch them grow,
Before their time is near,
Saying bye to all the trees,
Dying every day in the fall’s air,
Saying see you next year.
 

Christina’s world, NOT A HAPPY PLACE!
She’s all alone in the field
With NO ONE!
She’s completely isolated
She likes it
She HATES it
All at the same time
She has crazy thoughts,
Going through her head
Like a giant knife rushing through her heart
Thoughts about life and death
She is going insane!
She only has her thoughts
“Will I ever get home?
Even though I’m already there?
When will this journey and longing end?”
It’s all quite depressing
Crawling through the field,
She finds a knife
“It’s time to end this torture”
She picks it up
Brings it to her heart
Can’t find the strength to do it
So in the field she remains,
Alone and suffering.
 

Scream with your face all white
As if you’ve seen a ghostly sight
With your hand on your face
Scream with your face all white

You’ll fall into a dream
Lines all over
You feel as if you’ll
Be there forever

Falling, falling 
Down, down, down
Dark colors all around
Then . . .
You wake up.
 

As the sun set in this tranquil valley
With all the peaceful townsfolk
The moon started to slip

At first no one knew
Then it swept over like a plague
No one with any ideas how to stop it.

It reached a bigger town
And spread to another
But it was too late

All of it slipped away
Faced with fear
No one had ever seen before

Time just kept slowly melting away
Far off in the distance
No one knew why

But one thing is true
The night this happened
The world stopped
Letting all the time melt away
 

All Alone
By yourself
Just sitting there
In the Red Room

All by myself
Says the woman
With no one else
In the Red Room

My husband’s death
Was sorrowful
So I will pray
In the Red Room

I have no friends
No one to visit
No one to come
In the Red Room

I was sad
So I decided
To hide from everyone
In the Red Room

I had a plan
To move away
To pack my bags
In the Red Room

Oh No
Someone is coming
Quick I must hide
In the Red Room

Where do I go 
Where do I hide
Yes In the closet
In the Red Room

Someone came in
I don’t recognize him
But then I heard a bang
In the Red Room

I threw him out
Locked the door
and continued to pack
In the Red Room

I ran out the door
And hopped in my car
I would never again be
In the Red Room

I was kind of sad
But then I saw
I was still praying
In the Red Room

It was my imagination
It was a dream
I was still praying 
In the Red Room
 

Hello I am a face
I got run over by a truck,
It hurt,
but I am still alive,
and now my face is funny.

Greeting I am a head,
I got hit by an automobile,
it was painful,
but my pulse still beats,
and now my face is scary.

Hi I am a circle on a square,
I got hit by a 4 x 4 utility vehicle,
it was agonizing,
but I still exist,
and now my face is demented.

Hol Yo estoy una cara,
Yo golpea con carro,
Yo lastimado,
pero estoy todavia vivir,
ahora mis cara es tonto.
 

I will tell you about
the many creatures of the sea.
There are the beasts, looking scary 
and mean,
There are the gentle creatures, looking innocent
and kind.
there are the whales, looking big
and strong.
There are the  plants who don’t say a word.
There are the waves splashing
against the cove.
These are some of the many creatures of 
the sea.
 

You never know what’s by the sea
Until you come and visit me
I’ll tell you of my tragedy
While we have some whisky.

By the Sea of Happety
An animal called Sharkety,
Who tried to eat me
But missed, said, “Curse you, Bri!”

By the Sea of Galilee
A monster named Mississippi
Ate my frog called Sandy,
But that doesn’t matter ta ye.

By the Sea of Sanity
A merchant by the name of Tahiti.
Read a book by Alpali,
That was truly scary.

By the Sea of Shakespeary
A fish that was named Sleepy,
I woke up Sleepy,
Boy, he is crabby.

By the Sea of Penci
An animal that ate my Harry
My fiancé, my husband to be
He and I hoping to be happy.

As you can see,
Sharkety,
When he said, “Curse you, Bri!”
Truly came to be.
 

A painting
Unlike any other
Music of
Rhythm and Color
Line and Texture
Variation and Brilliance
Hear the orchestra
From the silent canvas

“What a mess of paint,” he said
But the thin lines were strings
The Bold blotches were the brass
The dark marks were woodwinds
Blending together to form a
Painting of
Rhythm and Color
Line and Texture
Variation and Brilliance

A painting of 
Rhythm and Color
Line and Texture
Variation and Brilliance
Hear the orchestra
From the silent canvas

 I can understand
the painting is music
music on canvas
 

I was driving down an alley one night
I saw a light
It was a bar
I stopped my car
I went inside
There a person had died
The waiter was attending to the dead
The dead was shot in the head
The dead was a gangster
He was shot by a prankster
I had a drink
Then I threw up in the sink
I left the bar
Then I drove off in my car
 

Dark, cold, and dreary
On the streets at night.
That’s when the nighthawks come
To do their nighttime flight.

In coffee shops they perch
And rest their wings awhile,
they sip a cup of coffee
While keeping a cool style.

And when the sun comes out
They stop their nighttime flight.
for now they’ll take a rest
Until it becomes night.

That’s when the nighthawks come
To do their nighttime flight.
 

She’s not a girl
And not yet a woman
Trying to make her way out of the cocoon
Yet still clinging to the past
Longing to be free like an eagle, soaring in the sky
But afraid of how much those freedoms may cost
Dreaming of a beautiful future
Excited to find out where her destiny will lead her
People push her down, they say she’ll never make it
Yet something inside her heart pushes her
She feels it, she hears the voices crying
“You have a destiny . . . just take a chance and don’t give up”
So she struggles and fights
Until she has made her way out
And finally, she spreads her wings and takes flight
She begins her journey of life
With God at her side, she has no doubt in her mind
That she will make it in this thing called life
 

There was a guy who made the clocks melt
The clocks were made of heavy gold
There was a horse
The horse had a clock on its back
When the clock melted, the horse died
When the clocks melted on the tree
It died too but it was a poisonous tree
It poisoned the clouds in the sky
It made the sandy desert floor black
No animal alive roamed it
One day a physic told me
That the land would soon be free
From the poisonous wrath of the gold clocks
 

Color and shape
Gently floating by,
Distorted, twisting,
It makes you want to fly

Twirling, swirling
Beautiful as can be,
Mixing, whirling,
The Beasts of the Sea

Lines, lines
Everywhere,
Fair,
Beautiful and fine

Swimming through the ocean
Drifting, floating free,
No one knows when they stop,
The Beasts of the Sea

Colors as bright as day
And colors as dark as night
Blending in a lovely way,
It makes you feel light

Spinning, reeling
the Beasts of the Sea
Slowly . . . leaving . . .
The Beasts of the Sea
 

Do you see what I see?
I see the golden crickets
Swimming in the lemonade sea
The cockroach with the long fishing pole
Fishing for shooting stars
In the brilliant multicolored sky

Do you see what I see?
I see the bright turkey feather
Sticking up from the sand
On the South Pacific desert island
With no people on it
Just magical creatures on this island

Do you see what I see?
I see all the colors
Red and orange and yellow
Blue and green and gray
Reflected on the water
Around the colorful island

Do you see what I see?
I see the clouds
They’re floating around in the sky
All different colors
I would like to be a cloud
Just floating around in the sky

Do you see what I see?
You’ll never see what I am seeing
On this beautiful desert island
In the middle of the sea
Do you see what I see?
 

With their pitchforks in hand 
they stand as if isolated forever.
With their clothes black and plain, 
you thought it would be a pain . . . to live.
With the house standing still as if waiting 
for a kill to hide the body.
With their house pointing to the sky, 
they are waiting to die.
So they end without a smile on their face,
Without a care only to be plain . . . such pain.
 

Hello I’m Jack pigeon
Broadway is a very busy place
So many shiny cars
Ca Cahh plump—ahhh much better
“Stupid bird this is a brand new car”
“Now I have to clean myself”
Tired, landing on that building
Look there’s a play
A One Winged Owl Ping from Desert Zork
Ha Ha Ha—a funny play
“Look it’s that bird”
“Bang! I got him”
 

The Head of a Man
has a neck shaped like a can.
About your shape, do you even care?
To go further I do dare.
You have no hair.
You face is unfair.
Do you even breathe air?
It must be terrible to bear.
The Head of a Man,
Were you hit with a pan?
 

There once lived a lady named lady Jane,
She lived by the sea.
She once used a cane.
Her ligament tore.
She had a surgery.
A cast she wore.
She had to waddle.
Her dream was to become a model.
Jane's boss was holding a model tryout.
She had her doubts.
About the tryouts.
She asked her husband, he had no doubts.
So she went.
She got turned down.
She wore a frown.
Jane went home to look in a mirror.
She had none.
She had to lend.
She had no fears so she tried again.
She was accepted.
Her dreams fulfilled.
She had big bills.
She lived out her dreams.
Without any schemes.
Jane's dreams became realities.

There is a man
No one understands 
Who paints and draws
All day

Pictures of winter, pictures of fall
Pictures of little girls, holding dolls
Pictures of summer, pictures of May
Pictures, pictures every day?

Until one day, gloomy and gray,
He ran out of things to paint
He started crying
And sighing
Then Dying--

All day long he sat on a stool
Staring at the easel.
All of a sudden there was a Flash,
And a BANG
And don't forget that puff of smoke

There appeared a mirror

The old man looked at the mirror
All of a sudden, he could see a bit clearer
He saw himself
The one thing he never painted

So the man picked up his brushes and paints
And painted himself
Glancing in the mirror now and then,
To check if he was still there

Weeks passed by, then months and years!
The old man kept on painting 
He couldn't stop

He finished his triple self-portrat of himself
But still he kept on painting!  And painting and painting
And never did stop.

Colorful squares,
Colorful rectangles,
Colors that show off their brightness and darkness,
Colors that are bold like a storm in the sky,
A yellow warmth like the shining sun,
A rainbow separated into tiny tubes,
Colors that zig,
Colors that zag,
Colors that split in all directions,
What a masterpieces.

Hello my name is Ulong,
I am a worker for the Emperor Kishu,
My job was to paint the royal temple with many colors.
I did so and got all this paint on myself.
I am done now, so I get to take a break.
During my break, I will go get a snack.
Cherry gush, slush all that jelly on my face.
Mmmgood - jelly doughnut.
Now I must prepare dinner for the Emperor.
Egg rolls with yellow inners.