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VOICE
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No: One Date: Spring2005

front cover, top to bottom: Inﬁniti Howard, Anthony Joshua, Stashala Overby

The premiere issue of Voice of the Knight isdedicated to the memory ofRobert Jennings(October 17, 1989–March 26, 2005)
Robert Jennings was a friendly young man whose humor touched
everyone who had the beneﬁt of knowing him. When writing
poems, Robert showed insight, depth and uniqueness. He was
not afraid to open himself and ﬁnd freedom on the page. He wassuch a joy to have both in the classroom and on trips to museums
and theaters. Ballou Sr. High and the D.C. Creative Writing
Workshop will miss his warm smile and vibrant personality.

W

elcome to the premiere edition of Voice ofthe Knight, the Ballou Senior High school
literary magazine, written and edited by thestudents of Ballou. Voice of the Knight ispublished through a collaborative effort between the school
and the D.C. Creative Writing Workshop, an independent
non-profit working to create a literary renaissance inSoutheast Washington. In September 2004, after four years
of providing award-winning programming at Charles
Hart Middle School, the D.C. Creative Writing Workshop
expanded to offer similar programs to students at Ballou. In
the short time since the school has welcomed the program,
Ballou students have grown accustomed to such perquisites
as trips to the Arena Stage, the Shakespeare Theatre, and the
U.S. Memorial Holocaust Museum. Voice of the Knight is theresult of nearly a year of workshops with professional writersin-residence, giving our young writers the opportunity to
exercise their creative energies, speak their minds, and beheard by an audience throughout the city.
In 2005, for the ﬁrst time in more than ten years, Ballou
Senior High School has produced winners in the Parkmont
Poetry Contest. Congratulations to Emma Stewart, Andre
Tatum, and Mercedes Valentine for their winning entries.

ii | Spring 2005

We have many friends who have helped to make Voice of theKnight possible, and we would like to express our gratitude
to them. Our sincerest thanks go out to the Herb BlockFoundation, the Morris and Gwendolyn Cafritz Foundation,
the Commonweal Foundation, the Community Foundationof the National Capital Region, the Fannie Mae Foundation,
the Philip Graham Fund, the Hitachi Foundation, theHarman Cain Family Foundation, the Wendling Foundation,
the Junior League of Washington, the Rotary Club ofWashington, the friends and family of Anna Su, the D.C.
Children and Youth Investment Trust Corporation, the John
Edward Fowler Foundation, the National Endowment for
the Arts, Michael Joy and TSCJoy/Monterey, LLC, Sarah
Booth and Bloomberg L.P., Wells Fargo Home Mortgage,
Karibu Books, Free Hand Press, the U.S. Holocaust Memorial
Museum, the Arena Stage, the Shakespeare Theatre, McGuire
Associates, Joyce Page and Ms. Printing, Tollefson & Gustini
Investment Management, our friends at Popeye’s on Malcolm
X Avenue, Ms. Shin’s 6th grade class at Bush Hill Elementary
School, Gregory Auger, George and Lenore Cohen, Fritz
Edler, Tom and Carolyn Grey, Mark Hollinger and Kathy
McNeil Hollinger, Betsy Karel, Gay and Charlie Lord, Paul
Mandelbaum, Judene Slaughter, Raina Rose Tagle, friends ofthe late Meyer Saul Taubman, and Vera M. White.
Special thanks for the hard work and dedication of the
D.C. Creative Writing Workshop Board of Directors: Lee E.
Epps, Andy Fogle, Dr. Susan Gerson, Bernie Horn, Kathleen
Huston, Joan Kennan, Bill Newlin, Nancy Schwalb, andKirsten Tollefson.
We would also like to thank the following staff members
who are our partners in this endeavor: Principal Dr. Daniel
Hudson, Dr. Portia Bookheart, Ms. Pamela Clark, Ms.
Vanessa Harris, and Ms. Carol Robinson.

Spring 2005 | iii

contents
Shannon Avent • Mrs. Barbara .........................................44
Siera Avent • Running .......................................................17
Teresa Baize• Bedtime Story ..........................................................53• Sleep .........................................................................73• Death ........................................................................74
Renee Bennaugh• My Four Cornered Room .......................................53• There will always be.................................................75• I’m Sorry ..................................................................75
Karimah Bilal• Pass Me (If You Want To) ........................................29• A Dare from the Sun ...............................................31• I Am a Poet ..............................................................31
Honesty Bland• Gamble .......................................................................9• What we go through ................................................10
LaJuan Brown• Hiding ......................................................................11• Addiction .................................................................11• Ancestors ..................................................................13• Tradition ..................................................................14
April Bungie • The Long Choice.......................................43
Iona Carpenter • Good Comparisons ..............................58
Shawnice Clark• How to Find My Heart a Home ..............................40• Black Boy .................................................................41

iv | Spring 2005

Krystal Cook
• She ............................................................................68• Heavy Poem .............................................................69
Lawrence Copelin• I am hers ..................................................................49
Ricky Dawson• New Age ...................................................................50• Starry Night .............................................................51• Moon........................................................................52
Tyanna Dowdy• Pay-Off .....................................................................70• A divorced marriage ................................................71
Antoine Ford
• The Power of Guns ..................................................45
Jamaal Grantham• I Am Jamaal .............................................................55• In Da Club ...............................................................76
Charlene Green • The Game of Life .................................15
Matthew Grifﬁn • Happiness ............................................78
There will always be memories, never bleached ..............79
Fanchon Hall• The Cycle .................................................................64• Ancestors ..................................................................67
Beonca Harrington • Evil Boys ...........................................5
Ruby Hill• Become a Heart .......................................................43• Myself .......................................................................44

Spring 2005 | v

Joseph Holbrook• The Power of Guns ..................................................45• Dreams .....................................................................46• Suppose ....................................................................47
Darshay Holmes • My Sister .............................................59
Inﬁniti Howard • Inﬁniti ..................................................64
Jo’Vada Hudnell • Because ................................................61
Latrise Hughes• The Pain of Knowing You .......................................23• It Must Be Tough .....................................................26• My cards ...................................................................27
Carlis Jackson• The Way I Draw .......................................................26• I Am Not a Poet .......................................................40
Shawnita Sharay Jackson• My Voice.....................................................................1• Old Times ..................................................................1• Self Destruction .........................................................2• Self Is Not Self ...........................................................2
Robert Jennings• Out of the Dust .......................................................39• Shock to the Heart...................................................39
Glenn Johnson• To Break This Shadow .............................................50• New Age ...................................................................50
Karisha Johnson • It’s All Too Much ................................16
Quentin Keener • The Dead .............................................51
Layetta Kerrick • Sparrows ................................................59

vi | Spring 2005

Breanne Lancaster• Soul for Sale .............................................................34• Mama’s Face .............................................................35• Illusion Blues ...........................................................37
Stanley Lemon • Dodging Poetry .....................................22
Clarence Lemons • Survive ...............................................16
Charvon Love
• Going Deeper ............................................................3• The Player’s Game .....................................................4• Boy Smarts .................................................................4
Jasmine Maddox • Sorrow falls like ..................................22
Stashala Overby • I’m Sorry ..............................................62
Lawrence Perkins• Believe ......................................................................19• Soul Sinking .............................................................20
Martin Pineda • Long Night .............................................61
Kowan Poole • I’m Sorry ...................................................65
Robert Robinson• I Might .......................................................................7• Police ..........................................................................8• Good Day, Bad Day ...................................................8
Taesha Robinson • Never Knew ........................................52
Joshua Rufﬁn • Never Not Alone ......................................22
Jameia Saunders • Sleeping ...............................................63
Emma Stewart• Where Anger Lives...................................................69• Bad storm.................................................................70
Andre Tatum • She ............................................................39
Chantease Taylor • The Other Me ....................................25

Spring 2005 | vii

Lauren Taylor• Puzzled .....................................................................56• Astray .......................................................................79• Beyond .....................................................................80
Sherita Taylor • My rhyme ................................................35
Tamika Thomas • Hiding ..................................................21
Elmer Toogood• Bootleg Monopoly ...................................................32• Her Skin Tells a Story ..............................................33
Tyrone Totten • My Mind .................................................58
Delawnta Turner• Jealousy ....................................................................47• Discovering ..............................................................49
Mercedes Valentine • Heritage ..........................................37
Wyman Walker • Young ....................................................65
Debra Welcher • Courage..................................................25
Antonio Wheeler • Do not brand me ...............................28
Nicole Wilkins • Silence ....................................................57
Ashley Williams • Flying Free ...........................................29
Cameron Williams • My Mother ......................................81
Dejuan Wilson • Myself ....................................................63
Oralia Woods • Who Am I? ...............................................28
Daytwan Wright• The love you give me ...............................................20• To My Self I Ask .......................................................21viii | Spring 2005

top: kids on the bus
bottom, l-r: Carl Wiggins, Jameia Saunders, Breanne Lancastertop: Renee Bennaughbottom, l-r: Jo’Vada Hudnell, Inﬁniti Howard, Darshay Holmes

My Voicehere I am
singing on white wood
my pen glides as a new born butterﬂy
as my honest feelings
invade inside your thought of mind
my words are as deep as a forever dream
my words are like ﬁreso hot it would make you thinkof old memories and a ﬂashback because
my lines are as deep as God’s soul
my page is power
outstanding
and boldmy thoughts, my feelings, my words
hear me sing
—Shawnita Sharay Jackson

Old Times
winter stretches
the coldness of your hearta rainy glass
overﬁlls your soul
making your life an icy roadthe dust of bruises
torments your mind
ﬂashback and old memories
take your pride
wounded hills of lovea narrow silence of attention
all a part of my curriculum— Shawnita Sharay Jackson

Spring 2005 | 1

Self Destruction
your skin tells a story
a narrow silenceof sweet bitterness
winter lips
cracked, bruised, and hurt
from that other you
saying the age of your blood
it is a Ms. Daisy stream
it can’t take thepain, hurt, and agony
a graceful cancer
is killing your soulthe naive voice in your headsays your story cannot be told
the sweetest goodbye
from yesterday’s roadalways will hold the beauty
within your soul.
—Shawnita Sharay Jackson

Self Is Not Self
lying still
thinking
last night
what to do withmyselfthinking
self is not selfwhy?
judging my skindenying the color
the mouth of my people

2 | Spring 2005

cussing of insanity
wearing a mask
to cover the colorthat my ancestors gave mehiding myself
to be with once knowing
I’m not me
me is not self
self is not Shawnita
the person I wasborn to be— Shawnita Sharay Jackson

Going Deeper
Sitting here in the dark, I wonder
Are there any people in this world with prideSome, and a lot, have poisoned pride
They wonder, do I walk with a warm shadow
Staring into the darkness
I see hills burning with ﬂames
A sea of orange waves
And a road that never ends.
Never not alone
I walk, I walkI walk down this empty street
Not knowing if there are better things ahead
I continue to walkAs I walk along the darkness
It seems to be stranger than ﬁction
I see a red dog on a rooftop
When I turn around and wake up
I realize it was just a graceful dream—Charvon Love

Spring 2005 | 3

The Player’s Game
There’s always someone tryin’ to make a pass at you
what they say, you want it to be true
voices in my head are telling me to walkthen the boy tells me to talkeveryone know he’s looking to scorethen when you let him, you’ll be called a whore
this world to me, is a cycle of secrets
will that person let them goor will they keep it.
This world is a question of time
how long will it take for him not to be mine
will you lose and let him win
or will you be strong and stay a ten.
—Charvon LoveBoy Smarts
He tells me that he loves me
He tells me that he cares
I believed him last week
and for all of these years
My friend tells me as she whispered
softly in my ear
He’s cheating on you
You should know by now
I didn’t want to believe it
He’s been all over town
I’m trying to play it smart
Let him think that I don’t know
Even though I know
I still love him so
I knew all along by the way he talks
the way he stares and

4 | Spring 2005

the way he walks
It took me a while to notice it all
When he was out late at night
I didn’t receive not one call
When I came to a conclusion
I decided to give up
Then I went to him and said
It’s time to break up—Charvon Love

Evil Boys
I laugh at little boys,
I laugh so hard, showing my teeth,
I throw my head back,Boys! What are they?
They’re, stupid, immature, and annoying.
But yet lovable, sometimes
I hate them, sometimes I love them.
I am above them all
I rise, I fall
They can’t hurt me
I have too much conﬁdence in myself
to believe what someone else
has to say about me, about you,about the world.
I tried to help, but yet I failed.
All because the evil little boy I loved
has gone to jail.
—Beonca Harrington

Spring 2005 | 5

top: Stashala Overby
bottom: Nicole Wilkins

I Might
I might be a hoodlum
Runnin from the feds
Blindly from the lights
Saggy pants from behind
People scared to walk past me.
I might be a b-ball player
Giving good assists
Making all my shots
Grabbing rebounds like Shaq
Rushing to the lane for a lay-up.
I might be a good person
Helping people out
Going to work everyday
Say “Hi” to whoever I know
People ask for change, I’ll give
Judge the good from the bad.
I might be anything
Selling drugs
Practicing on the courts
Helping out the community
I don’t know
I might just be me.
—Robert Robinson

Spring 2005 | 7

PoliceMan, yesterday
I was running from the feds
Don’t know why
Man, I was scaredLife ﬂashed before my eyes
Started to sweat
Breathing hard, legs shaking
Couldn’t even run straight
Didn’t want to look back.
Still running don’t know why
Not paying attention
Rock came out of nowhere
Slip up and fell
Police stopped
Heart stopped
Mind stopped
I got stopped
And I still don’t know why.
—Robert Robinson

Good Day, Bad Day
On the basketball court in S.E.
playing ballscore 7 to 4
having a good day
no problem in sight
kids playing football
birds out, sun’s outman, everybody was out
the ﬁnal minute came at 4 p.m.
the score 15 to 14
just as I went for the shot

8 | Spring 2005

black van with tinted windows comes creepin’
windows roll down
the van caught everybody’s attention
gun went off
POP, POP, POP, POP, POPeveryone scatteredkids crying, girls screaming
men running
Silence.
Dawg, this good day turned into a bad day—Robert Robinson

Gamble
The crowd watches
as the knights
go to prison
for a sorry gamble.
I stand with pride
and release the voices
in my head telling me
shoot the enemy.
This life of ours is free
for the secret question
am I a winner or a loser?
—Honesty Bland

Spring 2005 | 9

What we go throughAt night
I hear slamming doors
in the lonely homes.
I hear the newborn baby
cry for her parents
while she is being tormented
in her sleep.
The elders say regretful thingsin their conversation
about the absence of the parents
who have empty dreams
for their children.
The kids humiliated on the school year
I try to ignore the disgusting things
people say in the hood.
Daybreak, music’s playing on the basketball court
while others strike a pose for the camera.
That is just some stuff that we go throughday to day.
—Honesty Bland

10 | Spring 2005

Hiding
Hiding behind thismask that I can’t
get passed is it aphase or is it gon’be here for morethan days I don’t
like the wayz I
get categorized
you can look into
my eyez and realizethat I am just thesame as you justcause I don’t likewhat you like act
like you like don’tmean we ain’t
alike so I ain’t
hidin’ hidin’
no more behindthese closed doors—La Juan Brown

Addiction
My heart holds an addiction
for survival the life of us
is like a game of blackjack
as he rolls the dice foranother day I hope andpray he will win cause
losers take the badend he puts on a bluff
trying to show everyone

Spring 2005 | 11

top: Tyrone Totten
bottom, l-r: Mercedes Valentine, Oralia Woods

he’s tuff but the voices
in my ear say lookunder the table security
commands to show what’s
in his hand the rules
are you don’t cheat
it is you and not I you
will defeat so hetries again and asked
for lady luck this time
he will shoot andduck the acoustic soundin my ear is notwhat I really want tohear you lost.
—LaJuan Brown

Ancestors
I am a child of living
distress my dead ancestors
are unable to unrest here
We stand marching in a
protest there is riot
cause all my black people
are tired we are yearning
for this legacy I thinkthat it will be best if wekeep this tradition it’s
our faith in spirits
within we have tobelieve that it’sourselves that weneed to retrieve—LaJuan Brown

Spring 2005 | 13

Tradition
Take this as a tradition please
be quiet and listen to what
I am tryin to say about thatspecial day that I will neverforget it is my family that I
be wit’ it’s when we all
get together and we just might
be outside if there is good
weather it feels great when wecelebrate when the time comes
I just can’t wait to enjoy
the time I hope this doesn’t
have to be over before 9
cause I am feelin’ ﬁne andthat good family that I click
wi’t is mine. That barbecue
chicken sure does smell good
I wuz in a daze while
me and cuz Pete wuz
playing spades and I waslooking at my uncle’s waves
man they was dry and my
ma just told me my dog
gon’ die but they fun I
don’t know why but I still
wait for these days to
go by so we can doit again and now it’s
becoming a trend.
—LaJuan Brown

14 | Spring 2005

The Game of LifeHe plays the game of his life
As he tallies up the score
He is not a loser for he is a winner.
As the board dances he releases
The voices inside.
He synchronizes the random
exhibits of life itself.
Freedom, freedom, he calls out
cause he is not a prisoner of any kind.
The envy inside oneself eats up one’s pride.
He pawns the voices inside
his mind so there will be no cry.
He plucks a card from the deck,and shouts out old maidhe spins the wheel, passes go,
and collects $200.
—Charlene Green

Spring 2005 | 15

Survive
I stand and survive
to avoid Death
Death is like prison
locked up andI can’t get out
I use my street technique
so Death will never have me
six feet deep
I’m an explorer so I know
to move around Deathliving every day runningtrying to escape.
I stand and survive
to avoid Death—Clarence Lemons

It’s All Too Much
I hear nothing
but silence
the moon is glowing
so bright in the sky
It’s dark you see nothing
you hear nothing
this is too much
I am about to explodethe darkness, the ghosts I hear
the narrow hallways
I run to the door
to get out
the door is locked
I am stuck
I am trapped

16 | Spring 2005

nowhere to go
I scream and shout
let me out
but no one answers
I am alone, all alone
in a room
I scream louder
but no one’s there
not a soundnot a soundnot a sounddarkness—Karisha Johnson

Runningyesterday, I was runningfrom a thing called love
when it hit me, I thought
I might be high off a drug
I saw this in a movie, andit wasn’t too real, so I asked
myself how can I help the way
I feel, I’ve been in love once
I can’t do it again, so I went
down the street to talk to a friend
but, that didn’t seem to work,
I want to leave but I’m afraid it might hurt
so, I’m stuck here on stupid
because of cupid, yesterday when
I was running I came to a stop
I told myself, a – dog,
just try to be smart.
—Siera Avent

Spring 2005 | 17

top: Tyanna Dowdy
bottom: Jamaal Grantham

Believe
Believe in the way you play
The ﬂow of the air
The circulation, the wind
Flowing
Lock the doors
Secure all ﬂoors
Analyze the alarms
Beware my people
Thieves
Criminals
Burglars
Stop!
Become me, trust me,
So remember
To give, to listen, to chooseYour dreams andBelieve!
—Lawrence Perkins

Spring 2005 | 19

The love you give me
The love you give me
no one can takenot even if they tried
it’s also the reason
I feel I’m alivefrom the ﬁrst sight of you
I could feel the connection
In your warm arms
like a force-ﬁeld for protection
Although sometimes my mind
thinks can this be real
you stoop down, the eagle searching for preyand my heart you steal—Daytwan WrightSoul Sinking
As I look into this ancient mirror
I wonder to myself
How can I see my eyes
Or even see what else
Is broken.
As the mirror starts to break
My mind starts to shake
The mirror can’t replace the way I think
But still my soul began to sink.
—Lawrence Perkins

20 | Spring 2005

To My Self I Ask
To my self I ask
why must I wear a mask
for all the hurtful things I’ve donethat resurface from the past
Sometimes I think to my self
is life what it seems
while pinching on the side of my arm
hoping it all was just a dreamnow I look back on my life
everything seems so fast
my path is so clear now
I remove my mask
—Daytwan WrightHidingShe stays inside
To hide the pride of what
She really feels inside
She hides away in a dark little space
So she can pace andThink about all the mistakes
She has made, so she keeps pace
And then a smile shines across
Her beautiful face—Tamika Thomas

Spring 2005 | 21

Sorrow falls like
Sorrow falls like . . . a soul as if it were a burning rope
… a frozen rock after it has melted… oil and vinegar mixing as if it were becoming a chemical… a bunch of leaves falling because of a new season—Jasmine Maddox

Never Not Alone
car engine stops in such a fright
feel a chill there goes the ghost lights
bullet proof woundstaring at a ﬂaming moon
shadow hall going through your life
with a scareangels coming down to take youup the graceful stairs—Joshua Rufﬁn

Dodging Poetry
I don’t like poetry
it’s hard to understandwhen they tell me to write it
I want to leave
they say express my feelings as best I canbut I say to myself they just don’t understandwhen they ask someone to read poetry
I pretend I am a phantom
I try to dodge poetry as best I canbut people just don’t understand—Stanley Lemon

22 | Spring 2005

The Pain of Knowing You
I wish I didn’tknow you, youhurt me in somany ways I
wish I
never saw you
You beat me, you
used me, you lied
to me, you called
me names
You are so harsh
why do you have tobe that way? Uncaring
and just all out controlling
forcing me to do things
that I’ve never wanted
to do
I wish what I am
saying could be simple likea song you catch on to real
quick when you
hear it
You were dragging me throughthis pathless journeythat has taken
me nowhere
I wish I didn’t know you.
—Latrise Hughes

Spring 2005 | 23

top: Renee Bennaughbottom: Anthony Joshua

The Other Me
The other me, my better half,like two souls that intertwine
Never leaving each other
our love combined
Like hard wood, it takesa saw to break us apart
Like the other me, the better halfof my heart—Chantease Taylor

Courage
Courage is having strength
to move forward.
Courage is outspoken andvery intelligent.
Courage is having friends
telling you to achieve.
Courage is being a person
who believes in herself.
Courage is a part of lifethat can’t be forgotten.
—Debra Welcher

Spring 2005 | 25

It Must Be Tough
The street must be toughyour life must be toughgoing through all that must
be toughbeing told what to do
must be toughto go to school must
be toughTo live on a narrow path
it must be toughto feel so wounded inside
it must be toughTo have plastic bitterness
it must be toughto live a horrible life
it must be toughFor having all of this said
it must be tough—Latrise Hughes

The Way I Draw
I got the artistic blues,
maybe someday I’ll be on the news.
Sometimes I can be quite cruel,and sometimes I break the rules.
But that doesn’t affect the way I draw,even when it seems like my brain’s
being sucked through a straw.
—Carlis Jackson

26 | Spring 2005

My cards
My heart holds a
deck of cards
just waiting tobe passed out.
To a bunch of
loved ones that
I know loveme back.
So when I am
down I can reallypass out
my deck of cards
to my loved ones.
When I am passingout the cards
it’s like I am about
to play the game of spades.
I am giving life
I am giving my feelings
I’m giving my sorrow.
I am dealingout my spirit,sometimes I
want to holdthe cards
back.
—Latrise Hughes

Spring 2005 | 27

Who Am I?
I am a person who is hiding
my wildness.
I am scared to show who I am.
Some people probably say
I am crazy or weird.
I don’t think so,that’s just me.
When people look at me wrong,they make me want to hide
in a dark room or wear a mask
to hide my identity from others.
But I like who I am.
If you don’t, it’s just me,
loud, goofy and crazy.
—Oralia Woods

Do not brand me
Do not brand me because I’m black.
I am more than a kid.
I am a master of the sea.
I am a tattoo that stays in your mind.
I can downcast you to the groundand make you cry.
So do not brand me because I’m black.
For you see I am a manwith a master plan.
—Antonio Wheeler

28 | Spring 2005

Flying Free
I’m in an open planewhere the horizon
never ends
where the wind blowsout in the dust
where a victim’s soul
is ﬂying free
free from suffering
free from everything
while a ﬂame
will help relax your fears— Ashley Williams

Pass Me (If You Want To)
You’re in the hands of a man
the man is standing out of bounds
he inbounds the ball
now you are in the hands of another man
the man starts to dribble
as you hit the court andbounce back up over and over again
soon he shoots and most likely he scored.
The players pass you aroundto each other each getting a chance
to have the sweat roll off their ﬁngertips
as you are in the palm of their hands.
Now you are getting soft inside.
You are as ﬂat as a plasma t.v.
The players don’t want to bounce you anymore.
Before your eyes, you’re out of air,and they will be too because they pass it on.
—Karimah Bilal

Spring 2005 | 29

top: Emma Stewart
bottom, l-r: Martin Pineda, Stashala Overby

A Dare from the Sun
I dare you to not let me riseat the crack of dawn.
I dare you to eclipse me witha testy moon.
I dare you to cover me withthe gray mist of foggy clouds.
I dare you to let the blue
sky pour water in the evening
and not let me help create
the beautiful colors of the rainbow.
I dare you not to let me, the sun,smile.
—Karimah Bilal

I Am a PoetI am a poet
I express the way I feel in linesof brutal meaning
I open the cage of the trapped
but distant mind
I bring new elements to the tablespeaking what I feelI enlighten the thought of confusion
with thoughts of ease thatﬂow like honey milk rivers

Spring 2005 | 31

I use devices that are explosive
in meaning but not mischief
I am a poet
—Karimah Bilal

Bootleg Monopoly
Take this broken cycle and move up 4 spaces
Different voices will show you which way to go
This is the bootleg monopoly if you wanted to know
I got this blue and gold knight that’s prepared to ﬁght
Naw, man you cheatin
Pause
Show me the rules, what’s your strategy
My heart holds that love is the key
The crowd watches as I release the pawn
The pawns all over the place like me
And is lyrical
Go around a couple times
As he buys properties, he collects rhymes
Give me my houses
I got the white house you landed on
Give me my money
I won you lose
Now ain’t nothing funny—Elmer Toogood

32 | Spring 2005

Her Skin Tells a Story
When you see her
you can tell there’s
a story about her
The way she acts
she loves her mother
She acts scared
like scattered ghosts
But when she’s with friends
she does the mostHer hands are soft
like her soft heart
Her skin tells a story
my poems are smart
Her back tells about her pastas if she was a slave
Her lips tell me how many boys
she has kissed
Her eyes make me reminisce—Elmer Toogood

Spring 2005 | 33

Soul for Sale
My soul is for salethe reason is
I’m suffering . . . at every momenta part of me dies away
I have been tormented to
face the truth
I sleep remembering the day
I said goodbye
I sleep remembering the tears
my sisters cried
I sleep remembering the look on
my brother’s face
I sleep to think about my father’ssilent cries
I awake to the conclusion thatmy soul is for sale
not to the devil
but to the burden of old life
into new
The bleeding of my heart
the hoping, praying, waiting, running, sweating
being shocked at the conclusionthat my soul is for sale
—Breanne Lancaster

34 | Spring 2005

Mama’s Face
She was young and just starting womanhood.
Next thing you know,
she was going through trials and tribulations.
And yet, I’ve forgotten her face.
Though she’s always told me,
Don’t do what I did and listen
to what they say andfollow your dreams.
Don’t give away what is yours.
—Breanne LancasterMy rhyme
It’s 2001 and I live in white house,
but white is not white
I call it black,but black back then was not good,
good is only black when you come from the hood,
but the hood is not hooked on to what you say,we sit down, we’re family, we have to pray.
Man, it’s 2002, I’m in schoolit’s 2:00 time for work not play
you heard it from the bestthat’s all I have to say.
—Sherita Taylor

Spring 2005 | 35

top: Matthew Grifﬁnbottom, l-r: Ashley Williams, Chantease Taylor

Illusion Blues
I got the illusion blues
I see things but I’m not seeing anything
I hear things but wait . . . nope
don’t hear anything either
I read but can’t decipher anything
I try but can’t make any accomplishments
I think I’m doing something rightbut it’s always wrong
I make a mistake and everyone complies
I got the illusion blues
When I trip I always fall
I think I have friends but no one to call
I reach out for help and no one is there
No answer no responseeyes full of tears and despair
I think I got the illusion blues
or maybe it’s notmaybe it’s a theory
or just a thought—Breanne Lancaster

Heritage
Thinking about how to ﬁnd
my heritage a home
Everywhere I seem to go
Everyone seems to want tobe left alone
Even if I was to cry out loudI still wouldn’t draw a crowd

Spring 2005 | 37

Why is this so important to me,
I guess because I want you and me
to have some dignity
Can weall just get along,
becausewe’re not going to live life long
My heritage is important
Don’t look at me as if I’m insane
just know that right now
I’m feeling so much pain
Keep thinking that this day won’t come,but guess what my heritage will overcome
This is my heritage and life
Please don’t ﬁght
and just get it right—Mercedes Valentine

Out of the Dust
I’m a shadow in the
moonlight. I’m a night
without a heart. The
owl’s call out help help,
a horizon of men comes,
but out of the dust
a lady cries andcries, a gift for tomorrowis on the way.
—Robert Jennings

38 | Spring 2005

She
She is dangerous like a nuclear bomb
set to explodein a highly populated area
She is like a mad rabid killer
set free on bail, set on revenge
She wants like a power hungry
woman whose only incentive is money
Her attitude is like a trapped person
in depression in a house alone
grieving
She makes me scared
but I am determined to help her
She needs it and I fear for her life
I care for her so I need not
keep up this charade—Andre Tatum

Shock to the Heart
Love is like a shock to the heart
and an axe in your hands.
Sometimes you will like someone
but they do not know it.
You will cry in and out.
It’s like an earthquake.
It’s like frozen ice falling fallingand falling
but you cannot ever run or get from it.
—Robert Jennings

Spring 2005 | 39

I Am Not a PoetI am not bornto be a poet.
I’m born toplay football
They run the ball
I follow their block
Running back
Catching the ballin my chest
to the touchdown
do a victory dance
I throw it downon the groundand do anything
to show my pride.
—Carlis Jackson

How to Find My Heart a HomeMy heart, my heart ran away from home
don’t know where she went
wherever she went no trace of her is shown
But I’s still climbing onwith no heart, I’m like creamed corn
droopy, watery, and not put together
My heart, yes my heart is gone
I’ve been treating it so wrong
too much stress, and too much pain
I’ve been drowning my heart with rain
My heart, yes my heart is gone
I have nothing to live for

40 | Spring 2005

I want to ﬁnd my heart a home
but still no sign of her is shown
My heart, yes my heart is gone
I’ve stored her a homeright here is where she belongs
if you see her please bring her homewhere my heart belongs—Shawnice Clark

Black Boy
Yesterday he struggled through ignorance
he walked through ﬁghts
he sped through the storm
he leaped over the drugs
Yesterday he journeyed the night rain
he awoke to screaming neighbors
he ate to parents arguing
he went on his way furiously
Yesterday he departed this life
he brightened the white blizzard
he caged the bullies
he pressed through the wounds
The black boy knows that herides above the hurt
—Shawnice Clark

Spring 2005 | 41

top:bottom: Anthony Thomas

The Long Choice
On a long dirt roadwith three arrows you don’t know what to choose
you try to run from your mind set
for what you want to do
the anxiety builds up in your legs andyou start to run
your speed intensiﬁes and you turnand look back on something you can’t shake
you stagger and sweat but
it still seems like it’s gaining on you
sweat and blood are coming down your bodywhen you notice you have to make a choice
follow your dreams or let them dieor let yourself die just by running—April Bungie

Become a HeartHow hard they try?
How hard the deer tries to become the hunter
How hard the hunter tries to become the bullet
How hard the bullet tries to become the white cloud.
And the white cloud
So soft, so ﬂuffy, ﬂoating in the sky but
tries so hard to become loveand how hard the love wants to becomea heart.
—Ruby Hill

Spring 2005 | 43

Mrs. Barbara
Her skin is bright, as bright as gold,
the rank of her intelligence, not even she knows.
She sits in front of the store asking for dollars,
and if you ignore her, she will start to holla:sir, sir, do you have a dollar, if not today
then maybe tomorrow.
Days, weeks, and months have gone, andat the end of the day, she’s all alone.
As you walk past her you sing the same old song.
She has a pot to pee in, and a great big window
to throw it out, but as I watch her I wonder
what is this asking for dollars thing all about.
Today is a new day, and so is tomorrowand it’s not one day out of a week that
her routine won’t follow.
Lord have mercy on her soul, for only you knowhow deep her self-esteem goes.
—Shannon Avent

Myself
I see myself in the midnight of silence.
Holding in the laughter of sorrow’s glory.
I listen to my lonely memory as music.
Wonder at precious heavenly treasures.
Glimpse at a history of poison and magic,
and how a feather breaks a glass window.
Hold myself tight as I look at thestars shine above the moon.

44 | Spring 2005

I see blanks racing in front of me
noisy but not silent.
Gasping for air on a dry dull afternoon
humid, hot and not too cool.
A smooth, soft, tender bear holding me all night.
Iron bars on the window as the rain taps on it,
thinking of a beautiful waterfall
sparkling from the sun thata brick wall blocks
as I hear the tick of the clock.
—Ruby Hill

The Power of Guns
1.
Easy to use, but very powerful
if not used correctly.
2.
Smooth-looking, but painful.
3.
Not something you would callcheap if you’re broke.
4.
Brings light, but creates
darkness.
5.
Some of them are little with powerand some of them are big with more power.

Spring 2005 | 45

6.
They are used for robbery and forsome people’s protection.
7.
People say, “If you liveby the gun, you dieby the gun!”
8.
The sound of a gun
makes crowds go out of control.
9.
If shot with one,
you will see blood.
—Antoine Ford and Joseph HolbrookDreamsNo, everything in life dreams.
A bullet wants to become love,
a blue cloud wants to become a cool wind,white smoke wants to become a blue cloud,I want to become a fast runner,
but everyone dreams to run like me,a black hole dreams of being a window,
a car on the street dreams of
becoming a night train.
—Joseph Holbrook

46 | Spring 2005

Suppose
Suppose history replays itself
like the seasons.
Suppose music was magic,
would everyone know it.
Suppose people had to die
to give birth,
I wonder how many of us
would be on earth.
Suppose sorrow was chocolate,would people want it.
Suppose the last day
was next Sunday,
I wonder how some people
would act.
— Joseph Holbrook

Jealousy
Yesterday it came without warning
like company coming over on a Saturday morning.
At ﬁrst, I welcomed it,
not knowing what would accompany it.
Jealousy was her name, when we became close.
She couldn’t be tamed, when girls wanted toast.
I had to set her free, cause she was killing my life.
I guess I’m still looking for the one to call my wife.
—Delawnta Turner

Spring 2005 | 47

top, l-r: Oralia Woods, Mercedes Valentine, Stashala Overby
bottom: Matthew Grifﬁn

Discovering
I see
my dreams
being shrouded
by darkness
trying toﬁnd thelight. I
see myself
being themoon andhaving thestars follow
me. I seemyself hiking
over themountaindiscovering—Delawnta Turner

I am hers
I am hers in the midst of this darkness
trembling on this blind path
not able to see my shadow
sufferingas my heart beats fastertrying to relax
but the fright is still there
I try to trust in a bright starto lead me in the right direction
and steal me away from this darkness—Lawrence Copelin

Spring 2005 | 49

Suppose I Was Rising
Suppose there was no pencil
to put my thoughts on paper.
Suppose you were the one leaving me
and not me leaving you in the rain.
Suppose I was rising and you
were falling like sunset.
Suppose you rode off into the sunand I stood here as time went by.
—Glenn Johnson

To Break This Shadow
To break this shadow
Into a thousand lights of sun
I must become one with myself
To rise upon all righteousness
Yet I open my eyes to see that
I am stuck in a standstill—Glenn Johnson

New AgeAge ain’t nothing but a stranger
I welcome home.
This is the age of intelligence.
You tell me I will become stronger,that my thoughts will run likea deer being chased by a hunter.
I will say goodbye to ignorance.
I welcome the new age of steel sidewalks.
—Ricky Dawson

50 | Spring 2005

The Dead
Suppose I killed myself andbecame the phantom in your memories.
The silence of your fear creeps up on you
until ﬁnally you are lonely.
Death, death sneaks while you are gently asleep.
Suppose you could hear midnight risingfrom the ashes of distant birth.
Suppose you listen.
Suppose you didn’t know enough to care why,
why, why it’s over . . . your sleep.
—Quentin Keener

Starry NightMy hood
lives inthis painting.
Giant trolls
exist among
the surviving.
Blue waves
ﬂoat inthe skies.
There isno electricity.
The moonis thebrightest ﬂame.
—Ricky Dawson

Spring 2005 | 51

Never Knew
When I woke up in the morning
All I saw was your precious face
A woman who I notice is my mother
A woman I never knew till this day
who seems so special to me.
I never knew.
I woke up this morning
And was just thinking
How blessed I am to have a mother like her.
And how special you are to me.
I never knew.
Never till this day
I cherish the woman who I call motherFor all the work she did for me
And I never knew.
—Taésha Robinson

Moon
yesterday, the moon
sparkled silently
through the night.
the moon pawned his soulfor an embrace.
yesterday it ﬂoated fright-lessabove the noise.
it will soon resurrectand emerge
as a hieroglyphic on earth.
—Ricky Dawson

52 | Spring 2005

Bedtime Story
In the ﬁrst corner of my room there is an apple.
As I slowly turn toward my second corner,
I stare into the eyes of Snow White.
She is glowing from the happiness in the third corner.
Her peach skin in the fourth corner glows from the sun
beaming in from the small window
between the ﬁrst and forth corners.
Without a place to go,
I lie in the center of the four-cornered room, spinning.
I see no door nor carpet, no rugs, no chairs,
but feel a soft rectangular shape in which I lie.
Taking the place of Snow White, I lie in her cofﬁn
as she eats the good apple in the ﬁrst corner,
standing, looking at me in the second corner,
smiling in the third corner,with her peach skin in the fourth.
—Teresa Baize

My Four Cornered RoomIn the ﬁrst corner, there is a dragon.
He stares at me, waiting for me to move.
I am in the second corner.
I feel as though I should move
but I am too afraid.
In the third corner of the room, there is the color orange.
It symbolizes me and the way I feel in this room.
In the fourth corner is fear.
This is how I feel right now, staring at the dragon.
I cannot leave and I am afraid to go on.
I don’t know how I’ll get out of this room,
but I know how I got in.
I am smart, and when you are smart

Spring 2005 | 53

top: Anthony Thomasbottom: Kuwan Pooleyou will eventually end up in a room like mine.
You may not have the same color,and you may not have a dragon,
but you will have fear,and everything will represent the same thing.
The dragon has a name that has seven letters.
This name is unusual, but the dragon wears it proudly.
This name is…College!
—Renee Bennaugh

I Am Jamaal
To be me:You’re industrious;
you’re lazy
You’re talented
but you’re slothful
You love girls
but hate rejection
You’re a ﬂirt
but you don’t want to be hurt
You’re kind;
you can be mean
You’re a positive image
but some still hate on you
You’re not stingy
but you’re still cheap

Spring 2005 | 55

You’re loved by manyand disliked by someYou’re laid backbut can get really ugly
You love looking ﬂy
but won’t buy expensive clothes
You sometimes sit and wonder why
but you’re strong and never cry
You want to reach out
but don’t know how
You hurt inside
but still keep a smile—Jamaal Grantham

PuzzledA lamp so bright,
like the sun that’s trapped outside
Gleaming inside, searching for a loving person
It gleams in the third corner, but it’s not there
A vivid blue appears so bright, so happy,
so full of life, but lacks the love it needs
Blue looks in the second corner
There’s a person.
Her name is…well, to blue it doesn’t matter.
Tasha, she’s in the second cornersearching for a bright life,
but she sees nothing but a misty dark black blank
The lamp shines its bulb upon her faceSlowly, she feels her life lighting up,

56 | Spring 2005

blue turns to the fourth cornerto where love was hiding all along
Love’s so strong, so vulnerable,
it only needed a little light to be seen
All gathered in corner two
Everybody turns to each other and loves.
—Lauren Taylor

Silence
Now I will put everything aside
and sit uprooted
For once in my life, silencecomes to mind in a knowledgeable manner
Currently, a tear rolls down my cheekand I’ve decided I will never speak.
Sadly I cried, silently
Not knowing my name,a face appeared, and I was burdened,
weighed down, with shame.
I thought in my head,it’s my fault, it’s my fault
that the bullet joined in the gameThe ﬁre and smell of smoke
had critically made me insane.
—Nicole Wilkins

Spring 2005 | 57

Good Comparisons
Writing gets on my nerves, just like people.
It’s a good comparison because they are both stressful.
People are at their best when they’re turned inside out.
Writing looks like the hospital full of pain.
People smell like the bottom of a dead person’s feet.
Writing feels like a lion trying to attack.
People are the worst animals because they sound like police sirens.
Writing tastes like bad breath in the morning.
They both give me a headache, like newborn babies crying.
I once heard a great voice saying“Iona Carpenter, please report to the main ofﬁce prepared to go home.”—Iona Carpenter

My Mind
My mind is like a wild house.
It is always live, and loud
like a house with speakers blasting,
my TV blasting.
Windows are getting busted,people are ﬁghting,telephone’s ringing off the hook,
and the doorbell’s ringing 24-7.
Living here will make a mad man go insane.
—Tyrone Totten

58 | Spring 2005

My Sister
My little sister is about to cross the street.
She spots me walking out of the building.
She notices I’m heading in her direction
and she asks me to help her across the street.
I grab her soft hand and tell her to come on.
I walk her to the playground and push her on the swing.
I realize it’s getting dark, so I pick her up
and tell her to hold on tightand she tells me she loves meand she falls to sleep in my arms.
—Darshay Holmes

Sparrows
The fortitude of the sparrows
causes a riot.
As they thrive on toil and disturbing the peace,
their ignorance is ravenous.
As their unity is suddenly muted
you hear no echo.
The hearsay is hailburdened by a crash of constant uproar.
The divine honesty of the sparrow
allows the current to rise.
Now the hail is gone
and the reincarnation of the land is sacred.
—Layetta Kerrick

Spring 2005 | 59

Martin Pineda
bottom: Fanchon Hall

Because
Sometimes it’s good outside
like a bird in a nest.
Sometimes it’s bad outside
like when somebody cooks bad food.
But sometimes bad is good.
My eyes light up like stars at night.
The cold air at night numbs my hands.
The moist air chaps my lips.
When it’s hot outside, my nostrils start running.
My ears get burned when the sun beams on them.
Jay-Z was singing at a club in Greenland.
I have no eyes.
Jay-Z had a concert singing in Mexico.
But none of us could singcuz they say I was bad.
And I cannot sing
because I don’t have any peanuts in my trail mix.
—Jo’Vada Hudnell

Long Night
Last nightthe sun lit my window.
The night
was absent to me.
Because sunlightwent down late.
The moon sets early
this night,
kissing off the sky.
Becoming a new day

Spring 2005 | 61

to bait doughballs and hooks.
I walk homeunnoticed
and the sun is setting.
I watch it set
through my window.
It breaks very beautiful,a peachy color.
—Martin Pineda

I’m SorrySome of the things I’m about to say,well, I’m not really sorry about.
I’m sorry about cufﬁng some candy at the 7-Eleven.
I never wore shoes with my laces.
I’m sorry for burning the chicken,
but I’m not sorry for burning your clothes.
I never meant to slap you
but I did mean to slap yo’ mama.
I never burped at the table
but I did spit in your milkshake.
I’m sorry for parading around in my boxers
but I did mean to punch your grandmotherfor taking my grandmother’s teeth.
I’m sorry for throwing up on your ﬂoor
but I’m glad, because your pasta was foul.
You may think I’m being honest
but you’re the one who’s false.
—Stashala Overby

62 | Spring 2005

SleepingSleeping is forever
You must always sleep
like bears always hibernate
Sleeping makes you happy
like a dog playing catch
Sleeping is calm as a clam
When drifting off to sleep,
it is like you’re in a quiet roomwith the lights dimmed
and you’re relaxed and laid back.
It’s like you’re driving
to the end of the dreamway,
not the highway.
—Jameia Saunders

Myself
My mind is a black, painful place
in a skull
full of stress, pain,
anger, lies from a father
and serious, painful backstabs
and stress about school.
I am sometimes quiet
like the New York street at night
when it rains
or I’m sometimes different
like a change of channel
But sometimes when it rains there
it’s quiet
because the rain takes you away.
—Dejuan Wilson

Spring 2005 | 63

Inﬁniti
My name tastes like a million pounds of sweet strawberries.
My name smells like a nail shop on a nice spring day.
My name sounds like a wet rainy day in August.
My name looks like a pretty wedding cake with whipped cream.
My name feels like it’s swimming in millions of dollars.
—Inﬁniti Howard

The Cycle
There will always be…
People of may different shades
Light and darkness throughout the days
Pasts that hurt us and futures that won’t
Life and death from many ages
Disagreement among the countries
Wars of men, wrong and right
Right and wrong, just and unjust
A never-ending cycle beginning
Smiling faces, silent tears
Shots, meaning cures, and unsolved mysteries
Confusion and understanding
Good and evil, Heaven and Hell
There will always be…
Man, Woman and Child
Seven deadly sins to bring us down
Someone who cares for us and another who won’t
With family and friends to keep us aﬂoat.
—Fanchon Hall64 | Spring 2005

I’m Sorry
I was never higher than the clouds,
but I was higher than a clock on the ground.
I’m sorry
I stole the money out of the bank
but I’m not sorry for a ﬁsh that died in my tank
I’m not sorry for doing my homework
but I’m sorry my mother’s heart is hurt.
—Kowan Poole

Young
Wake up in the morning
Go downstairs
Make me two eggs, three pancakes,
and ﬁve slices of bacon
Wash up, make my bed,
and still have time to watch TV
Go for a bike ride
And as the wind blows,
the years pass by
I remember I’m still young—Wyman Walker

Spring 2005 | 65

top: Krystal Cookbottom: Darshay Holmes

Ancestors
The names of my ancestors can be read as an almanac of my present being.
I walk through the lively graveyard full of souls in a festive mood,able to smell the food not seen.
My taste buds thumping like the vibration I felt beating the conga drum,and now beating that drum was MLK at his Atlanta, Georgia gravesite
followed by Malcolm X in New York.
Even my own grandmother in Hampton, Virginia. But all look empty, lost.
I guess the graveyard wasn’t as lively as I thought.
And now I taste death, I hear the mourning of the disappointed souls,
as they seem unable to reach out and touch this new generation.
Youth violence, wars, and chaos throughout this world.
Aay son, see that rolla, let’s take her to the back and smash.
Empowering our black females, R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
The disappointed faces of heartache seen in my ancestors’ glarescause me to perfect my morbid ways.
Though, my morbid ways allow me to possess a wholesome spirit.
A spirit that leaps out in front and attracts all attention away from me.
The ﬁrst female President of the United States has ﬁnally been elected
this year, 2024,
gladly tackling this easy task, this welcomed war, this grand mass
destruction.
These are the dreams of an ambitious soul,
who lacks the ability to make her dreams come true.
Pues, mi casa es su casa.
So tell your troubles to run on home.
And now, I leave the graveyard full of the souls in a festive mood,with the lingering smells of the unseen foods.
—Fanchon Hall

Spring 2005 | 67

She
She is leaving on a commuter express,
but acts as if she doesn’t know
how she got there.
Yesterday is absent,
tonight’s moon is setting,and she is tired and weak.
She watches the ﬂood,
knee-deep in the ﬁeld
from the window ledge.
Truants on the commuter
hand out oranges and peaches,and go unnoticed.
She ﬁnally turns the lamp out
and falls asleep.
But the light from the window ledge
awakens her.
—Krystal Cook

Heavy Poem
Obesity is like a reindeer without its blinders
Heavyweights eating the world out of the palm of their hands
Tasting the sweet smell of loneliness and depression
Feeling the desire and urge to eat through the emptinessin their hearts
Hearing the malicious gossip, as it travels
languidly through their bodies into their minds
mentally tearing them down
They see the awful stares as they enter the room
full of people seeming to ﬁt the image of perfection and beauty
Oprah, we know too well, rides the seesaw of the weight game-She doesn’t ride the seesaw, she lives the seesaw of the weight gameI never get on the seesaw. I prefer the sandbox, a stand-still game.

68 | Spring 2005

Dat’s wassup!
They made me not gain weight because I wasn’t supposed to be fat
I always stay on my Ps and Qs when it comes to eating rightThe box of depression we ﬁnd sitting on every corner
waits for the day to end, only to ﬁnd tomorrow as bad as today
The anorexic ﬁxation of the obese can drive one crazy
They get so angry, they erase all food from the earth,leaving everyone else to starve
Buddha is more than happy to know she is not a part of the trend
The obese know that tomorrow and the day after
they will still be teased for their appearance
The sharp, dull razor cuts deep into their hearts
and they bleed sad lonely blood
I, too, know the pain that exists within each soul.
—Krystal Cook

Where Anger Lives
Buildings where anger lives have displeasureof dust and dirt
like a ceiling with holes in it
dirty water dripping from it
or doors with rusted nails hanging out.
To be anger, you must mope aroundall day with a mug on your faceor just have an attitude with everyone.
On the street where anger lives are dull housesof busted windows and chipped painton the rooftops.
In their garden stands a tall, bony treewith no leaves, and only dirt around it.
—Emma Stewart

Spring 2005 | 69

Bad storm
Moon over dark clouds
as if it’s going to snow.
Barbells dangling on the damp porch,with a slight wind.
The continuous keening through the windows
as if it’s about to erupt.
Raindrops ﬁlled with ﬁre,is the forecast for yesterday,
today and tomorrow.
—Emma Stewart

Pay-Off
My hard work has paid off.
The Junior year has gone
and the Senior year is on.
I hit for four years straight
and won the jackpot.
First prize, to walk across the stage
to a promising future.
My mama has made bread from scratch,
starting from nothing
and daddy has come to crylike a sensitive child.
While the family has made upa song of congrats to graduating
and making another momentof Good Times history.
—Tyanna Dowdy

70 | Spring 2005

A divorced marriage
Night comes on like a frown in the sun
It’s me he is mad at
And she hates the way the sound of moving
tastes like orange juice on abrand new tongue
Remembering to forget that tongue kissfrom Myrtle Beachon the lips tattooed on her backShe throws herself on Mr. Depressing Attitude
so she can be mad at her long distance husband
since 2020
whom she hasn’t even met yet
Children ran through cloud nine, and we allwatched the choreographer dance
but none of us were there
Only children allowed, so any adult
who tried to get in
the kids went smack at ‘em.
Because they were old, and ages were uneven
He only got convicted of Murder One every blue moon
So depressed about being too happy, and thelust of fornication dripping from her breath
The burning volcano of hate
She hated her husband on Monday, January 31, 2012
and forgave him on Tuesday, February 1, 2005
She will have to apologize for what she did tomorrow
He threw the hot ice in a glass of iced tea
His feelings turned cold because he had cold feet
Voulez vous couchez avec moi?
The dog drove her home in a pickup truck
Only to remember she forgot to get her heart broken—Tyanna Dowdy

Spring 2005 | 71

top: Jameia Saunders
bottom, l-r: Breanne Lancaster, Martin Pineda, Karimah Bilal

SleepWatching the ocean move in a languid motion
I sit bequeathing today’s cutthroats
Night has exfoliated day as the stars
fall short of the sky
I carried my weak mind in a bag and reinterred it
So tired, I joined the sandWhile the herons watched theunrecognizable object
I watch the blank windows
burning in my mind
Time was wasted and the orange soon
drowned my nightWell-aimed at my dreams,
I remain spiritless with hopes of
sleep, scattered across the beachTeresa Baize

Death
Death is so sudden, like the chill you get from snow
The snow stormed through the city for two years
The snow felt like a knife and sounded like thunder,
fresh tar on the road is what it looks like,come on and taste it
mmm good,
like Campbell’s Soup.
But beware of the scent, which makes you cry
like the smell of onions.
Death feels like cigarette smoke in my face,ﬂowing in my nose,
Cigarette smoke blown from the Grim Reaperin New York City, in the Heart of Manhattan,
afraid of the feared.

Spring 2005 | 73

Although we weren’t that scared of him at all
Melting snowmen bring deadly rivers
Gotta hit up da crew to git miya boat
But can’t call my crew because I
couldn’t buy my tracks.
“I think the rain is calling murder.”The heavy rain, of sweet dreams
that drown my pain.
We were as terriﬁed
as the skeletons with no hair
We evaporated as quickly as we could
and returned as a tsunami.
Tee swam up on the River Styx
feeling great
They will hide today, tomorrow and forever
until it catches up with them.
Rocky waters sneak upon them unannounced
To be smart you have to know what I will learn next
You chicks musta been crazy to think y’all can try to outsmart me
The scythe will surprise you with terror, so look out
Death captures you as the snowstorm distracts your mind
only to prove you weren’t as smart as you thought.
—Teresa Baize

74 | Spring 2005

There will always be…
There will always be peace
There will always be war
There will always be good
There will always be evil
There will always be women who love, even when they aren’t loved
There will always be men who care, and men who can’t quite ﬁgureout how to care
There will always be the past
There will always be the future, even if it isn’t yours
There will always be somebody yelling, somebody laughing,somebody crying
There will always be grace and there will always be awkwardness
There will always be a me and there will always be a you
There will always be a lie and there will always be a truth
There will always be death, there will always be life
—Renee Bennaugh

I’m Sorry
I never went to the movies and bought popcorn and soda
although I did buy popcorn or soda
I never jumped off the swing and landed on my butt
I never tried to book anybody, but I have read a book
I’ve never jumped off a plane, I’ve never even ridden in one either
I guess you could say I don’t get much excitement.
For example, I never ate ice cream
while climbing a snow-covered mountain
Then again, I’ve never climbed a snow-covered mountain.
I’ve never had the key to singing on key with a monkey
although I’ve tried many times
I never jumped rope with a jumping bean
I never rode a horse with Pippi Longstocking
I never bought pink toilet tissue

Spring 2005 | 75

I never bought paper dolls, purple shoes, or plain
potato chips
I never met Peeping Tom or Little Bo Peep
I’m sorry
I took the candy
I did, it’s true
I sawed the heads off all the quarters
I took the cat’s nine lives
I did it, it was my fault
I gave the President a wedgie during his campaign speech
I’m sorryMy badMy fault—Renee Bennaugh

In Da ClubI ﬂew to Africa in an SUV
I am the SUV
The Africans smell my car freshener from miles away
Can see the bottom of the SUV ﬂashing in their eyes
because of my hydraulics and also the glare from my
24 inch chromed-out rims
Can feel the bass thumping from my loud system
Tasting the exhaust smoke from the big pipes
Animals growling from the loud pipes, awakening themLoud music bumping in the brains of all of mankind,insinuating into the body through the ears, nose, and the mouth
The songs of 50 Cent rapping while performing in the
President’s Oval Ofﬁce in the White House
Maybe not in the Oval Ofﬁce
but most deﬁnitely in the White House
Maybe not the White House
nor anywhere in America, maybe in a small town in Ghana

76 | Spring 2005

Maybe the President of Ghana rocking to Fifty’s top hit“In Da Club” wearing some bling-bling and outﬁtted
with a G-Unit hoody on his way to a Ja-Rule concert,
because he is fat, and that hoody was the only thingleft in the Big and Tall section
Telling all of his people that if something goes onthat they can ﬁnd him “In Da Club” yelling out“It’s My Birthday”
Hiding the broken window of his heart
Standing outside under the storm cloud of a sunny day
Jumping up and down trying to touch the storm cloud
Big Mal was watching from a nearby window
Remembering that tomorrow and the day after that he had
to write a speech for his address to the people of Ghana
walking into the empty club to get his last dance
Imagining dancing with a beautiful lady
but really, he wakes up sitting in the SUV two days later
Yelling out “Je’mappelle Francois”
as the car opens for fresh air and as he steps out
listens to the advice from the rear view mirror
As he walks to the podium, he envisions his country’s downfall
and after stating what he expects of his people
he ﬁnally says that if I ﬂew here in an SUV to take over this country
then you can just work hard toward making our country the best
—Jamaal Grantham

Spring 2005 | 77

HappinessHappiness is found like hard-earned money
Nothing makes me happier than seeing children eaten by a mad bulldog
It’s like a past dream partially fadedwith the soft, yet ﬁrm, touch of successthat alerts the ears like a mixture of applause
the rush of adrenaline and a thousand smiles
gleaming all around.
But to understand happinessit would obviously look like the sound of music
weaving through the air
Clifford the Big Red Dog
dreaming of running to the Statue of Liberty
If only Clifford had legs to run there.
You can ﬁnd bubbles and happiness dating each otherproducing offspring of the perfect pink
Because we all were too happy to ﬁnd a job
To succeed, they must always keep their p’s and q’s in checkand always balance their checkbook.
The grey cloud of devastation contradicts its claim of peace and serenity
But it was as miserable as the man who just won the Lottery
So as the happy one studied the troubled cloud,he jumped to the outer limits and lassoed an asteroid to the center ofthe galaxy
Where Matt then reached up for the sky and grasped both happy andcloud together
But the cloud was a stiff cloud wanting all for himself
So its ﬁnal verdict was guilty, sentenced to a millennium in the skies
where it could do nothing but ﬂy and ﬂoat for punishment.
Happiness ends all things,
being partially faded yet never forgotten,
where that troubled cloud was never really troubled
because deep inside, only happiness bubbled.
—Matthew Grifﬁn

78 | Spring 2005

There will always be memories, never bleached
Every year, every decade, the scene constantly changes
But what dies is removed, while memories are never bleached
There will always be a dog barking, even though it ceased years ago
The current scene becomes the past, but the languid and bafﬂing
dilemmasnever cease being bypassed into the future’s fresh new beginning, afresh new scene
Diseases are cured, but people continue to die
More and more truces are formed,
yet more wish for a Utopia
There will always be something hoped for, something despised
There will always be a puppy waiting for a home
A kid nagging his mom just to be near
Every day, every year, every decade
the scene is constantly changing
what dies is removed, while memories are never bleached—Matthew Grifﬁn

AstrayI’m freezing
my mind is lost in ten degrees Fahrenheit
It’s cold on the inside
my heart is pounding, two beats per second
Time’s up
my expiration date was three years ago
Three Years
I’m traveling back in timeto when my barometer erupted after hitting 300° F
I was a volcano spitting out lava
determined to dwindle anyone in my path
Again my forecast was unknown

Spring 2005 | 79

I found myself turning and twisting
Boom! There goes someone’s car
Pow! There goes a house
Is this truly me?
The river ﬂows in a peaceful placesomewhere out there, far away
where ﬁr trees live
It’s quiet
I’m astrayIt’s the time to change
my weather forecast
Lauren Taylor

BeyondDogs bark like a horn honksover and beyond Mars
It’s hot where the stars are
there’s twinkling in the galaxy somewhere
where I can taste the perfection of cookies baking
It smells like a dirty dog’s bodythat tasted kind of good in a puddle of gravythat sounded like something I watch on TV
and felt like crumbling planets
like poor Leika, the dog from Moscow
who was sent up to space to meet her doom.
I never watch TV
I’m ﬂying out of space with wings on my backthat I wish I sprouted on my own
I gave the stars some Dap
on a small planet, with small hands“What goes around comes around”
frantically plays itself on the radio.
The mean eyeballs of heartache grasp a treacherous love affair
It made me sad as laughing hyenas

80 | Spring 2005

who played chess and howled out “checkmate”
Cuzin told me don’t give them a chess board
but a week from now I guarantee they’ll bite into the black knight
who was brave, scared, and thrown into a frozen volcanothat is all forgotten now, but remembered tomorrow.
Ay, ay, ay como me duele
makes the earth singas beautiful as a bluejay and it helps the land wander through the woods
with a notorious feeling of bravery.
Even when you’re brave,the planets languidly tumble down.
—Lauren Taylor

My Mother
My mother is standing, cooking, in the kitchen.
I listen to the water run and the grease pop.
She makes a cake.
I watch her as she looks at her T.V.,
the smile on her face as I sit on the stool.
I hear her laugh and it makes me warm.
I tap her on the shoulder as she’s walking
up the steps and say“Mom, I love you.”—Cameron Williams

Spring 2005 | 81Voice of the Knight was made possible by funding from
Herb Block Foundation
Morris and Gwendolyn Cafritz Foundation
Commonweal Foundation
Fannie Mae Foundation
John Edward Fowler Foundation
Hitachi Foundation
Junior League of Washington
D.C. Children and Youth Investment Trust Corporation
National Endowment for the Arts
Bloomberg L.P.