Author: hmadams

  • THE GREATEST MEMORY

    by AUSTIN

    I’m running,
    running through my mind.
    Searching my memories,
    for the one I don’t want to forget.
    The memory,
    the memory of meeting my friend…
    Not any friend,
    my best friend.
    And i’ve found it, i’ve found her.
    So now i’m walking,
    walking through my mind.
    Passing my memories.
    Holding the one i’ll never forget,
    the memory,
    the memory of meeting my friend.
    Not just any friend,
    my best friend.
    Who I will never, ever, forget.

     

  • SUMMERTIME

    by SIERRA

    Summertime is when summer breeze can flow through your hair. Summer is when you can throw away your winter clothes and bring out the bikinis and swim. Swimming is the most common event in summer. Cookouts are the best; you get to chill in the sun with family and friends… yes I believe that summer is the best. When you have a main guy, people be staring. On the beach is the most beautiful place when the sunset is on the sand.

     

  • SUMMER 1999

    by CHELSEA M

    The warm days for time and play.
    And laughing with friends on rainy days. Walking to the park, getting a tan, watching the sky, stare at the land.
    Going swimming with friends coming and going.
    Summer 1999 is the time I realized summer is pretty fine.

     

  • SUMMERTIME

    by JADON

    Summertime is when the rainbows come out. And as the sand grains from the beach glow my baby does too. Splashing water on each others face in the pool. Good times is what everything becomes. Umm…the great smell of food is flowing through the air. The warm breeze flowing through the air. The music blasting through the air from the speakers. Sitting with my baby is the best feeling in the world to me. Holding hands… hugging…kissing…There cannot be a better feeling. Looking at her smiling and i’m smiling back. Watching movies, feeding each other popcorn. Laughing along to each others jokes.

  • THE SECOND SILENT HILL

    by KYLA 

    The darkness, the siren, the blood
    crackling down like rawhail, distancing the fire of each victim’s cry.
    The peeling of pain and the production of suffocating dust.
    Luxurious, yet frightening.
    The echoing of former conversations, the memory of past bench trials,
    the raging image of accusations
    swirling around.
    The scythe,
    the shadow,
    the victims,
    the blood.
    Ghostly figures dance along the very memory of living, the flashback of each slaughter.
    The disappearance of each….then, the thick silence of lost time.