Talk To Me

This was the first of my ten weeks with all the 8th graders at Taft. I already miss the 7th graders but I suppose the 8th graders aren’t evil either. So we looked at Frank O’Hara’s “A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island” – I plan on recycling all the more successful lessons I’ve done in the last ten weeks. Like a champ.

Mrs. Taylor
8th Grade, 1st Period

A True Account of Talking to a Computer
Maura H.

“Hey, hey! Get off me!”
My computer screams at me.
“But I need to do my homework!”
“Lies. You’re going to watch videos
and go on social media. Go out. Be

“I know it’s hard. I’m the one that
is addicting. I pull you in with my
iridescent screen and make you lazy.
But promise me this,
“You will go out and do something
more with your life, and not sit
with me all afternoon. I want
someone to pursue what they want.”

“And what if that’s on you?”
The computer sat silent for a moment.
“Then use my knowledge first.”

Alex K.

I turn the door knob,
“Ouch! Every day I go through
this, you twist and turn me
and you never even say hello.”

It turns from a restless expression
to a dull, shocked film on the
windows of my being.

Alarm Clock
Macy T.

“All you do is hit me over and over again, do you really need to sleep for another 5 minutes? Stop complaining about the sun shining through the blinds and resting, so nicely on your eyes. Today has begun stop delaying and playing with time. Open your eyes, get out of bed and get over your fear of a brand new day.

Mrs. Dolear
8th Grade, 3rd Period

Thomas P.

“Why do you make so many mistakes? Why do you
hurt me so much?”
“I have to use you or else my mistake will
“Can’t you write in pen and cross out your mistake?
Or use white out?”

Giorgia C.

“I’m over here.”
“Over here.”
“Where might ‘over here’ be?!”
“On the dresser.”
“Ugh. Finally.”
“Wait wait wait! Don’t pick me up yet!”
“Why not?”
“Go look out the window. What do you see?”
“I see the outline of a tree but maybe if you could help me out I could see a lot more.”
“Now put me on. Look out the window.”
“All I see is the street and the tree in front of my house.”
“No, it isn’t. You see the sun, the air, love,

Mirror in the Bathroom
Denita H.

Waking up getting out of
bed. Looking at my white
boards. What quote can be
read. Walking past the
mirror something wasn’t
right. For it didn’t have
my face in sight. It wasn’t
me or anyone I know. I
look back shake my head
making sure this isn’t a
dream I pinch myself and
then I scream.

It said why are you pinching yourself? I won’t cause any harm. I’m just here to warn you about your mom.

Mrs. Taylor
8th Grade, 6th Period

Olivia B.

“Put me on!
You want to look gorgeous. I can
make you that”
“You’re bad for my skin.”
“But you want to look awake.
Come on.”
It glistened in the light. I positively
love how it looks. Its tube is a
shiny hot pink. As I put it on
I feel my lashes flutter up.
“You were right.”

“Of course I was, now how about
some foundation?” Smiling
Hell. No.

Joseph R.

As I climb into bed, I rest my head
on a pillow as soft as silk
I rest my eyes, my tongue, my thighs,
and it says, “Sweet dreams, you filth.”
My head jerks up, into a position rough,
and turns to my pillow angrily.
“Maybe I would be better than thee
if my only job was to rest heads. See?”
I lie very still, my stomach a hill
on the valley that is my body.
I lay a book into a nook
between my shoulders as my expression turns haughty.
“Maybe I am not a turkey or yam
on a wonderful Thanksgiving night.
But at least I can move my butt to the groove
while you’re sitting alone on my right!”
“Right you may be,” says the pillow happily
“But let’s end this right now.
Between you and me, and all we can see,
we’re different, but equal, like cows.”

Sam S.

Where did they all go, Sam?
My best friends, so green
and so famous.
Now gone. Where did you put
them Sam?

I put them in the cashier’s
hand, I wanted the chips so badly.

Why, Sam? You’ve left me
alone, in the darkness of
your pocket with no one; no one.

And for what, a satisfactory
taste in your mouth that would
soon leave?

Mrs. Taylor
8th Grade, 7th Period

Time is Forever
Allison M.

I wish I could control it.
The constant reminder that every
second would never happen again.
“Slow down” I tell it one day
“Why?” it asks
“I don’t want today to end”
“But if today doesn’t end,
how will there be a tomorrow?”
Another day I say “Go faster”
“Why?” it asks again.
“Because I want today to
be finished already.”
“But if today goes by
faster, how will you be able
to enjoy it?”
The next day I see
it ticking, one… two… three.
The same sound, never wavering.
Then it asks the question
first “Why haven’t you
asked me to speed up or slow down?”
This time, I ask “Why?”
It continues to tick, without
saying anything.
“Because I say, you will
go on forever, but I am
only here temporarily.
And I want to enjoy
every second I can.”

Josh G.

I was watching YouTube,
And it spoke to me.
It said, “You watch
Boring trash. Get a life.”
I said, “I do not. Besides
I have nothing better
to do.”

“You should do something
with your life. Go outside
or do anything besides just
stare at a screen for hours
and hours.”

“You’re right. I will.”

I closed my browser
And watched Netflix

Anahi M.

an empty journal,
waited to be filled.
“Take you rusty old
pencil and scribble on your
greatest memories, your
most vain thoughts. Do it
without a care in the world.”
“nonsense, I’m not any writer.”
little did she know,
“expressing yourself in me
does not call for any great
knowledge, you simply
need a thought and you.
See the world for how
beautiful it is, scribble.
cry in fear, scribble it.
confusion, scribble it.
By the end, an empty journal
turned into one filled with a thought, many thoughts.



“Writing poetry makes me feel like I can see myself, like I can see my reflection, but not in a mirror, in the world. I write and I know I can be reflected.”
-Oscar S.

“Writing poetry makes me feel free.”
-Buenda D.

“Writing poetry is like your best friend.”
-Jessica M.