Poetry is a form of literary art in which language is used for aesthetic and evocative qualities in addition to, or in lieu of, its apparent meaning. Atchison Hall residents were given the opportunity to showcase their non-singing, non-acting and non-dancing skills by entering a poetry contest in honor of April being National Poetry Awareness Month.
*History Repeats Itself*
*By Alexandra Agapiou*
In the classroom we sat and heard the first shot.
Before we knew what happened the ones around us were gone;
All we could see were streams of red.
We ran out of the building, hearing the screams of other students.
Running into Kent State was an out of breath guard
Who in the end tallied a grand total of 40 deaths.
Two years, two months later there are seven more deaths.
Edward Charles Allaway was the one who fired the first and second and third…shot.
This time there was no one on guard.
In the end most of the library staff was gone,
The ones who weren’t shot were the students-
Even though they still saw the red.
We couldn’t- shouldn’t- see all this red.
All this was scaring us, all these deaths.
My friends are dying; we should be safe at Columbine High School-we’re only students.
Down goes the twelfth person; How many times do I have to hear the POP! of a shot?
My friends are really gone-
And this time, so is the guard.
The one who let this guy through the door was the guard;
How was he to know an hour later his vision would be blurred with red?
During a two hour period, Seung-Hui Cho killed 32 people, their lives forever gone.
Could this man feel no pain? Perhaps he did looking at all these deaths,
Maybe that is why the last time his fingers pulled the trigger was for a personal shot.
He was now no longer a student.
The professors at Northern Illinois University had the attention of their innocent students.
Then the oceanography professor yelled, “Stand guard!”
A total of 24 people were shot.
It is said that the color that attracts attention the most is red;
Red undoubtedly captured these people’s attention as they witnessed their friend’s deaths.
In the morning everyone was happy, free and alive; now everyone was crying, praying, or gone.
February 12, 2010: a day when a teacher might have thought: Is this the day I will be gone?
But as it was she didn’t think it, and neither did the students.
At 3:30 there were three deaths.
The shooter could not hold her guard
As she witnessed her students’ clothing glowing with red.
Amy Bishop raised the gun and killed her last thoughts with a closing shot.
Using their remaining shot the killers were soon gone.
Unlike their victims, there was a burning red sensation in their heads to kill students.
They could not guard their emotions; the only way to escape life was to execute these deaths.
*below zero (pray for rain)*
*By Stephanie Godden*
your touch was cold
you lay so stiff hands dry and cracking and we couldn’t have foretold this
i soaked up the chill the thrill
and i was infinitesimally small beside you
flickered out and died
you didn’t notice when you left
i’m left with frostbite’s fire flames that lick imaginary wounds
with an imaginary pain
on an imaginary loss
you’re everyday right next to near me and so far away just out of reach
they say the fourth and fifth and sixth dimensions are just a breath away
and you’re atomically close but approaching infinity
maybe you sleepwalked
maybe i pushed you out
maybe you think i’m right beside you still
ready and waiting to let you pluck me up and prune me
i wasn’t there to do your bidding
no the empty space the hot flash are too familiar to me
and fruits could never blossom in your freeze
but i make no apologies
i was overgrown but never just a weed
now i am parka i am storm door i am sealed