City Kids
Coy Gibson Balboa High School As I look out my back door
to get some fresh air I see
void-like darkness sprinkled with salt
shooting star
airplane soaring though the blackness
I wonder about shooting stars
everything I see and hear around me
trucks passing by
cats fighting in the background
gunshots and gunpowder A long van ride from the city
forgetting where you’re going
pine trees
clean air
fresh soil The only sound relaxing
yet rough noise
fresh water running past
in the night So Our Words Can Join Our Wisdom
Cynthia Dominguez
Balboa High School We will write poems
because we feel the
warmth of the sun
that lets us wander
Our eyes become
We will write poems
because we want to
Escape the world we
live in
escape televisions
radios, phones, pagers
Enter a world of
trees, animals
We want to feel
the warmth of our
emotions We will write poems
to release
our souls receive new ones
as if to be baptized
We become new people
not only in appearance
but in
feelings and
thoughts We will become
our perceptions of nature
become closer to
our surroundings
What we think of the trees...
we will become
What we think of the animals...
we will become We will write poems
so our words can join
our wisdom
Our thoughts
The Ground we walk
speaks back to us
We listen to it
Write what we
think A Hot and Poor World
Glenda Portillo
Downtown High School I am from celebrations
el dia de los muertos and navidad
where family and friends
join each other in the colonia
for dancing and laughter
I am from pupusas and nuegados
that old ladies make
on dusty roads with contaminating smoke
to provide food and little money
for their families I am from gasiosas and orchata
to drink on a sweaty-sunny day
at the mercado where what you hear is
children crying, ladies gossiping
loud music and chikens clucking I am from vos to vichos to usted
where your friends, kids and grown ups
try to live thier lives
and survive
in a hot and poor world