Instructor: Susan Zalac
Class: AP Literature and Composition
Mrs. Susan Zalac, who teaches AP Literature and Composition believes the essence of life is wondrously captured in the many poems of our past and present.
The students in her classes spend weeks dissecting and interpreting poetry, and, before they know it, they’re actually writing poems of their own.
During the last week of class, Mrs. Zalac breaks out her Tassimo cappuccino machine, makes cookies and the students share their poems.
Of course, the poets are encouraged to wear beanies on their heads and to snap their fingers in appreciation of the shared poetry.
Here is a sample of the poems written by the senior class:
Hidden by Katherine Boyd ’15
Lock and key, close my door,
Lock and key, can hold no more,
Lock and key, behind, the horror,
If she opens my lock and key.
Beyond my gate, not one can go,
Behind my gate, not one can know,
Inside my gate, the secrets flow,
I cannot let her see.
Within my safe, the secrets writhe,
Within my mind, the demons hide,
Within my heart, I bar the sides,
The truth I fear will be.
A looming monster, I hid from her,
A deep pain, in my side its burr,
A story, from hurt morphed to a blur,
From this I cannot flee.
New by Gabi Erceg ’15
Growing up is hard – I hate to admit.
Once I’m gone, I’d be remiss to admit
That I’ll miss it, in my heart of hearts, I’ll miss it:
King of the halls, relegated to joker of the fall.
But I will so adjust, I trust
Enjoying the now before it has passed.
Soon I’ll be a spelunker, diving into my past
As I sit here and write this,
I realize I shouldn’t fight this:
We all feel the same,
No need to be ashamed
That nothing will be the same.
Once we’re gone, things will continue
Just in a new place, with new people
We’ll make new friends,
We’ll go new places
New, new, new.
Whoever knew that the new
Is the scariest too.
Visit by David Gamero ’15
Takes you to places that aren’t real or fake
Pouring a stream right through your mind
A never-ending ocean or a lake
Knowing exactly what to find
Thoughts. Flitting leaves waiting for a rake
See what isn’t real be real
Feel the fake the way you feel
In this storm you sail without a keel
Lack of direction can be appeal
Just play the cards that life will deal
In the blink of an eye, a million eyes blink
A million minds think
Your red, my red
Pretty soon we’re all dead
What’s the point? The dot? The tapered end
When you’re done and reach your end
But for now, a trip on a trip
Run, stumble, fall, trip
A brief escape from the big game
Pushing the borders of this confining frame
Make your feral mind tame
Or risk losing your bearing, dropping your aim
After all it’s just a visit