Two Poems – Week Eight


In a word, high school was miserable.  Even though it was only the first semester of freshman year, I no longer had the friends I had in middle school.  We were still in the same classes together, but I was on the outside of the inner circle.  I had an epic verbal battle with my biology teacher where the school had to involve my mother and not one, but two vice principals.  The teacher questioned my integrity, I did not respond well.  (This incident became part of my reputation for being a trouble maker, even though I was a total nerd.) I was being sexually harassed both in school and on my way to and from school.  The only reason I was still in school was that I know I needed to finish high school as a part of my journey to success.  High school was a treacherous, dangerous stepping stone.

There entered a ray of light in the form of a teacher.  She was the former English teacher of my older sister.  She asked about my interests, wondering if I was a writer like my sister.  I was, of course, already churning out poems that had nothing to do with school assignments.  This teacher went out of her way to rearrange my schedule so that I could take her Creative Writing class.  She tried to get me out of the offensive biology class, but was unsuccessful.  (I still appreciate her effort.)  Even though there were mostly older kids in the class, I was in my element.  My teacher saw my potential and encouraged me to write.  She told me to ignore my critics and focus on my abilities.

Four of my poems were published in the literary magazine produced by the school.  One boy, a senior in my creative writing class had 2 poems and a short story in the magazine.  I just realized how remarkable it was that a freshman was the most featured in the magazine.

Thanks to that wonderful teacher.  I didn’t know it then, but you changed my life for the better.

Below are two of the poems that were published.  I will post the other two later this week.



Pink is happiness

is spring

is sunshine

tastes strawberry sweet

smells like cotton candy

feels satin smooth

floats in the sky.



Red is love

the smooth fit of a glove

the sizzling of fire

heat of desire.


Red is hate


Controlling fate.


Red is thick

breath taking

the smell of roses

a jolt of color.


Red is spicy

candy sweet

the taste of past defeats.


Red is sound

a beating pulse



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