This is the fourth issue in a series of poetry editions. Poetry editions will be published in quick succession and feature a variety of poetic styles.

Students were given the option to choose their own poetry format for this issue.

Creativity is the Enemy by Grace Watson

We are creative;

It can sometimes be destroyed

By outside forces

The creative forces can ruin

Creativity, by destroying

Our self-confidence

Family members and

Friends can force us to be dull

Creatures who are dead

Creativity

Is a manufacturer item

Produced for profit

Creativity

Is the enemy because

It can be controlled,

Manipulated

To fit the mold created

By big businesses

Creativity

Is the metaphorical

Anchor and chain

Creativity

Will kill the artist in us

All. Don’t be boring

Love is Weakness by Emily Young

The door is brown

When I leave it makes me frown

Much like when you’re not around

Without you here

There is a hole in my heart

An empty void

That can only be filled with your joy

Just to hear that laugh

See that smile

Hold your hand again

Would fill this emptiness

When I went to go see you yesterday

I tried to be strong

I tried not to cry

But the tears still made their way

to the surface

Looking at your headstone

Seeing all the things you loved

Made me smile

You’ve been gone

for almost 4 years now

Everyone gets easier

I’ve accepted the fact that you’re gone

And you’re never coming back

Nobody who has died has never

Come back

I’ve expected the fact that

I will never see your smile

Or hear your laugh

Ever, ever again

Most of all

I have accepted the fact

That love

Is weakness

Seventeen Houses by JoJo Mundorf

Houses they mention

With roads I don’t remember

Where did I live when I was 2?

A different house than when I was 3

A black cat stays in my mind

The only thing that lingers,

From the houses

A fleeting memory

Living in an empty family room

Wasn’t even our house

We only moved out to the house next door

Live with the mother

Then live with the father

Live in a town where only

Churches and bars,

Was there even a gas station?

4 years, is that really the longest time?

I know there are more places

By how my parents talk

But they fade from my mind

The more I age

A horse and Spanish soap operas?

The heat of California sun,

I remember few horses,

But my parents know more

They say you lose your childhood memories

But only when you are old

But I already lost them

Buried in my mind

Hidden in moving boxes.