Friday, October 29, 2010

Gould Academy Out Loud

I’m sitting outside of room 207, waiting for my math teacher to unlock the door, and usher me in to another hour and a half of numbers and learning. I’m a bit flustered, having already bustled frantically through two classes and though I don’t dislike math, as I clutch my binder which ominously threatens to vomit many weeks of notes across the tile floor, I admit that I’m relieved to have this moment to sit, head resting against the hard uneven wall, breathe, and sort through my thoughts.
Gould Academy is not a school for the faint of heart. Schedules are arranged so not a moment is put to waste. From classes we speed into sports, then from sports we dash into dinner, then from dinner we hasten to our home work.
At that point, my mind has become a reservoir of so much from the day, so many thoughts, ideas, interactions, feelings, I simply can not hold it all in my head. There is so little time to sit back and reflect, capture the moment, obey that fleeting notion of inspiration that competes for attention with my school work. In quiet moments, like now, where I suddenly, surprisingly, find myself hovering in the split second of transition:

I have to write.
And I am not alone.

Gould Academy Out Loud is an outlet for us writers amidst the Gould Community. An open environment for anyone and everyone who has something to say, to say it. Respond in a comment to this entry and set free your poetry, narratives or simply a collection of thoughts, anything goes. Don’t be afraid. Indulge your mind, reveal your soul. This is the Gould Academy Out Loud Writing Blog,

Write on.

3 comments:

  1. Hello, this is your conscience speaking. Yes, my name is Anonymous. Since when did anyone's conscience have a name? I believe we have met before. No? You don't remember? Well, let me tell you something. I know everything about you. I know what is in your head right now. I know you are thinking that you are hesitant to write on this blog because you are afraid of people reading your writing. And I know that actually you're not afraid of people reading your writing. You're afraid of people knowing it was you. Well, have no fear. I am your conscience, and my name is Anonymous, and yours can be too.
    Just Write.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Be free of the chains that would suppress your creativity.

    Break away from the norm and smile in the face of the disapproving.

    Refuse to bow down before the overbearing.

    Stand strong and tall in the wake of a tragedy.

    Wear yellow or green to a funeral and celebrate life,
    rather than mourn death.

    Find yourself in the arms of the one you love,
    not at the mercy of those you hate.

    Look at happiness, and then at sadness.
    Then decide which one you think would be more enjoyable.

    Converge upon all the good things in life,
    and forget what would bring you down.

    Do what you want, live how you wish, smile at life, and most importantly:

    Be Happy.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I give thee a rose, red as blood.
    I give thee water, cool as a breeze.
    I devote to thee mine own soul and heart,
    Trusting in the perhaps desperate hope
    that they shall be cared for.
    I trust thee with that which I do not trust myself.
    I dream of roses of the reddest reds,
    with the sharpest of thorns.
    I dream of the sweetest love,
    And banish the memory of a most bitter goodbye.
    I dream of what once was, what is no more,
    and what will never again be.
    They are one in the same, these dreams.
    They give me hope, then dash it to pieces.
    They show me a light, some warmth,
    and then douse it in the icy chill of arctic waters.
    I have been disillusioned and see the truth now.
    I gave thee my heart, and a red red rose.
    You gave me back my heart, broken into as many pieces as the days we spent together.
    You gave me back the rose, torn and tattered, wilting, dying, no longer red but black.
    You found your way into my heart and destroyed it.
    What are these feelings then?
    You broke me, you beat my soul beyond recognition.
    And yet, what are these feelings still?
    I feel no enmity, not the bitter grate of hatred
    I should be all rights feel.
    I do not hate you. I do not despise you. I do not even pity you.
    I can't shake this feeling, no matter how hard I try.

    ReplyDelete