I’m walking down Slocum Street and I see a fire
Put it out with an extinguisher became my desire
I was crying for help like a barking dog
Then my cheeks grew big like a jolly green frog
I saw an opportunity, a cracked window
But I just kept walking until I got to Pindle
But then out of nowhere I heard a loud scream
I felt so guilty because I had fled the scene
So I tried to go back but all my lights went off
But I know I can make it like David Hasselhoff
I tripped and fell while the lady laughed
It made me angry “damn it I’m so mad!”
I was sleeping so deep but my alarm went off
Then I felt both my cheeks “oh my god, they’re soft”
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Aneeka Ayyar-“Thangam” Means Gold
The wedding was a huge extravagant celebration full of color and excitement. All the women were dressed in exotic clothing; wearing saris with every design and print I could think of. They were wearing green, red, orange, and lots of purple and indigo. I don’t know why but maybe purple was in style that year. Marigolds and roses were strung across the stage. Two large rose garlands were hanging on a hook. Kala and Sundhar were sitting on the stage wearing expensive clothing and a lot of makeup. The hall was decorated with soft pink paint and pink, white, and yellow roses. I could smell the roses scattered around the hall.
The stage was elevated and three stairs on either side were leading up to it. Everyone was laughing, embracing and telling stories while the musicians played. They played the mruthangam – a loud, Indian drum and the nagaswaram- a clarinet- type instrument but 10 times louder. The priest was telling the bride and groom what steps to perform in order to spend the rest of their lives together.
They were serving idlis, vegetable pulao, and daal rice. Kala’s closest friends had helped to create beautiful white roses arrangements near the dining table. The guests looked around the halls, in the midst of flowers and interesting dishes, sat a lady in the audience smiling. She was sitting in the front row observing only the bride and groom. Simply watching and smiling ever so often.
She had been waiting for her granddaughter to get married. And today, Kala had chosen a husband. During the celebration, all the steps of a traditional Indian wedding took place. The couple said their vows, went around the fire and finally exchanged garlands.
Everybody was happy and clapping, but no one ever knew what going was on in my great-grandmother’s head. I could see the joy in her eyes. She was as happy as she could be. She watched Kala wearing a red sari with a beautiful gold border that glistened in the lights. She was wearing a ton of jewelry. Kala wore a gold necklace and little gold drums on her ears. Every time she turned her head, they shook with a jingle. She had a petite collection of jasmine flowers in her hair. Guests began to look bored after the celebration had been going on for an hour. But my great grandmother was anxiously watching the little girl she helped to nurture, grow into a woman.
The fire was releasing a lot of smoke. The smoke was burning my eyes. So my sister and I went outside. My eyes began to tear and I started to blink faster. I took one last peek at the guests and saw tears on my great-grandmother’s face too. But something told me it wasn’t because of the fire.
The stage was elevated and three stairs on either side were leading up to it. Everyone was laughing, embracing and telling stories while the musicians played. They played the mruthangam – a loud, Indian drum and the nagaswaram- a clarinet- type instrument but 10 times louder. The priest was telling the bride and groom what steps to perform in order to spend the rest of their lives together.
They were serving idlis, vegetable pulao, and daal rice. Kala’s closest friends had helped to create beautiful white roses arrangements near the dining table. The guests looked around the halls, in the midst of flowers and interesting dishes, sat a lady in the audience smiling. She was sitting in the front row observing only the bride and groom. Simply watching and smiling ever so often.
She had been waiting for her granddaughter to get married. And today, Kala had chosen a husband. During the celebration, all the steps of a traditional Indian wedding took place. The couple said their vows, went around the fire and finally exchanged garlands.
Everybody was happy and clapping, but no one ever knew what going was on in my great-grandmother’s head. I could see the joy in her eyes. She was as happy as she could be. She watched Kala wearing a red sari with a beautiful gold border that glistened in the lights. She was wearing a ton of jewelry. Kala wore a gold necklace and little gold drums on her ears. Every time she turned her head, they shook with a jingle. She had a petite collection of jasmine flowers in her hair. Guests began to look bored after the celebration had been going on for an hour. But my great grandmother was anxiously watching the little girl she helped to nurture, grow into a woman.
The fire was releasing a lot of smoke. The smoke was burning my eyes. So my sister and I went outside. My eyes began to tear and I started to blink faster. I took one last peek at the guests and saw tears on my great-grandmother’s face too. But something told me it wasn’t because of the fire.
Liahshea Nicolas- These Talents of Mine
I was humming “Love” by Keisha Cole, when Taijiun Haskins (the best singer in our grade) overheard me, and asked me to sing to her. I didn’t really want to; I was nervous. Could I make it come out right? I wondered. The other students had left the classroom by then. It was just Taijiun, her friend, Ms. Waldeck, my Algebra teacher and I. I start to sing the song as I collect my books and leave the room. She smiled and walked next to me as I continued singing out into the hallway. I felt butterflies in my stomach. I couldn’t believe that I was singing to this girl in front of my whole school. The next day in Science class, I was copying lyrics to a song, when Taijiun says, “Hey everyone, did you know that Liahshea could sing?” My heart dipped into my stomach, while the whole class shouted, “Sing something…sing for us.” Mrs. Saunders told everyone to stop, but something inside told me this was my time. I decided to go for it. I sang. I sang one of Rihanna’s songs. Everyone was clapping and smiling. Ever since that day, I changed the way I am in front of others. I overcame my shyness and found singing is one of my passions.
Drawing is another passion of mine. Like singing, I found another way of expressing myself. Mrs. Williams, the only female security guard in our school, asked me to do a portrait of her granddaughter. It would be my fifth paid commissioned artwork. She gave me an 8x10 inch photo, and she wanted me to draw almost 3x4 feet portrait. It was huge, by far the largest one I would ever do. It would be a real challenge, but I knew I had to do it. The day I brought it through the school doors, everyone came up to me to see the portrait rolled up in my arms. The portrait came out looking just like Mrs. Williams’ granddaughter. She fell in love with it. I was so proud of myself. I really accomplished something big. I feel like I was meant to do this, pursue my art. I enjoy drawing and have a talent, but at times, I feel it’s bigger than that, like I was meant to draw because it is such an easy way for me to put a smile on another person’s face.
The power of beatbox fuels my art and singing. It is my third passion, which is another way that I can get that one kid in class to move his feet and forget his troubles. There are four things to know about being a beatboxer. One, there’s the cymbal. It allows the crash to come in. It’s kind of subtle, but likeable. You can’t have a drum set without a cymbal attached. Then there’s the snare. The snare provides the hit; it’s fast and wild, and gets people’s attention. Third, there’s the bass. Without the bass, you have no box to beat. The bass provides the movement, which gets the people started. Last but not least, there’s the breathing. You have to find the moment to breathe. You take short or long breaths depending on the beat. I learned how to beatbox from a performer who came to my school, but like singing and drawing, I found I had a talent for it.
Singing, drawing, and beatboxing are passions of mine. They are an expression of who I am through my voice and my hands. I want to find a college where I will be shown the way to grow as an artist and performer. I want to study my craft to become better at everything I do. And when there is an opportunity to give back to the community, I am the type of person that will go for it, no matter what. I hope you can guide me to develop my passions.
Drawing is another passion of mine. Like singing, I found another way of expressing myself. Mrs. Williams, the only female security guard in our school, asked me to do a portrait of her granddaughter. It would be my fifth paid commissioned artwork. She gave me an 8x10 inch photo, and she wanted me to draw almost 3x4 feet portrait. It was huge, by far the largest one I would ever do. It would be a real challenge, but I knew I had to do it. The day I brought it through the school doors, everyone came up to me to see the portrait rolled up in my arms. The portrait came out looking just like Mrs. Williams’ granddaughter. She fell in love with it. I was so proud of myself. I really accomplished something big. I feel like I was meant to do this, pursue my art. I enjoy drawing and have a talent, but at times, I feel it’s bigger than that, like I was meant to draw because it is such an easy way for me to put a smile on another person’s face.
The power of beatbox fuels my art and singing. It is my third passion, which is another way that I can get that one kid in class to move his feet and forget his troubles. There are four things to know about being a beatboxer. One, there’s the cymbal. It allows the crash to come in. It’s kind of subtle, but likeable. You can’t have a drum set without a cymbal attached. Then there’s the snare. The snare provides the hit; it’s fast and wild, and gets people’s attention. Third, there’s the bass. Without the bass, you have no box to beat. The bass provides the movement, which gets the people started. Last but not least, there’s the breathing. You have to find the moment to breathe. You take short or long breaths depending on the beat. I learned how to beatbox from a performer who came to my school, but like singing and drawing, I found I had a talent for it.
Singing, drawing, and beatboxing are passions of mine. They are an expression of who I am through my voice and my hands. I want to find a college where I will be shown the way to grow as an artist and performer. I want to study my craft to become better at everything I do. And when there is an opportunity to give back to the community, I am the type of person that will go for it, no matter what. I hope you can guide me to develop my passions.
Quwan Lawson- Falling
I remember falling off a bike going at top speed down Washington place in Englewood. I could hear the cycling of other bikes trying to beat me to the bottom of the hill. My shoelace was untied, and it went into the bike chain. My leg followed the chain. My foot got caught. The chain started to rip into my skin. I was going so fast when the chain halted. The bike started to move with me on it. I did some kind of maneuvers. I couldn’t see. There was so much motion. How could this happen to me? The bike hit the ground; my foot was twisted in it. I felt my leg-really really painful. There was blood rushing down my leg into my foot .I tried to get up, but I tumbled down because my leg was in so much pain. There was blood all over the street. My cousin was trying to get my shoelace out of the chain. I saw the white tissue under the layers of my skin. I was in shock. My leg was hurting very badly. My cousin removed my shoelace when he saw a car coming down the block. I saw the car coming too. It was getting closer and closer by the minute. I tried to stop the flow of blood with my shaking hand. I accidentally touched the cut, it stung and burned.
My cousin got on one knee, and he put my arm around his shoulder. He grabbed my torso and safely removed me from the street to the sidewalk. He sat me down on the curve. We limped back to my house while blood rushed from my leg. I felt myself wanting to tear, but i held it in. The accident left a four inch scar, and it reminds me that I can take whatever life throws at me.
My cousin got on one knee, and he put my arm around his shoulder. He grabbed my torso and safely removed me from the street to the sidewalk. He sat me down on the curve. We limped back to my house while blood rushed from my leg. I felt myself wanting to tear, but i held it in. The accident left a four inch scar, and it reminds me that I can take whatever life throws at me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
