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These poems were written, by one or more poets, using raw material generated by a larger community following the True Voices process.
Poetry is a park in the walk
playing with words
on a language jungle gym.
Parades of flying and flightless birds
riding a free breeze
purposefully overlooking
excused rules.
Poetry sneaks into your dreams
through the open door
to gaze upon the poet you are there
and steal the opulence of words
screaming from your fingertips.
Poetry allows reconciliation and yielding,
room to pretend and play with cliché.
Years are lost but always there.
Everyone involved neglects reality,
time travel is possible.
By: Barbara C.
I once sang a Swedish protest song
covered in bruises
eyes still stinging
from the tear gas and pepper spray.
Singing is more powerful than shouting;
It’s the souls’ key and no one can silence
a song we all know.
If you sing, you will be heard
a shared act of creation, the calm power
that although seems weak,
may, in fact,
be unstoppable.
by Melissa K. and Barbara C.
It is all because of Grammy that we’re here.
Grammy’s memories are the glue
of the Christmas Cove family,
She cares deeply for those she loves,
Showing each person how she loves them.
She loves BIG,
And hugs BIGGER.
She values and appreciates herself
and others,
She is the glue.
Grammy has never said “nope!” to me,
Grammy MAGIC is in her cookies.
She bakes the MAGIC!
Wheat flour!
She is the glue.
She is iconic, lively, intelligent, family oriented.
She is strong and TRUE,
She is the glue.
The joys of the funnies and crosswords,
A drive to Starbucks,
Reading her cursive,
The ways we’ve connected
to our great-grandparents.
She is the glue.
She is unapologetically herself,
She can read minds,
She makes me feel warm and free
To be whomever I want to be.
Grammy has the special touch
She’s not just our grandma,
She’s is the glue.
By: Samantha M., Abby M., Alec M., Josh C. Caleb C., Ally F., and Kate F. for their grandmother’s 80th Birthday
America is a dizzy boxer,
A forwarded meme, a vegan carnivore.
But its dream can be a nightmare for the hateful,
Haunting them. It loves the love that is difficult,
Tries to remember to be a citizen of the entire world,
To do something
About it
With a work of art forged from
Ephemera used in direct action.
America is fractal, a chaotic, confusing gem
With inequalities and injustice in its inner workings,
In access to the fruits of its labor –
A drunk bumblebee stuck on a hibiscus plant
Crying tweets.
But if we could imagine
A new American superhero
What would her superpowers be?
A collage of empathy for others, transcendence,
Umoja (“unity” in Swahili),
A West Coast statue of Unity
Accumulated through adding stones
To others’ sculptures by the American River,
Blessing the survivors of her wrath.
By. Barbara C.
Fear will not oppress us.
Fear will not control us.
Of course we are afraid but
together we are stronger than our fear.
The cloud of uncertainty looms but
we are not afraid of losing hope,
not afraid of change,
not afraid of freedom.
Our futures are unguaranteed but
we can envision the future
and we are not afraid.
By: Barbara C.
America is a contradiction.
Arrogance + ignorance
like those who once thought
the sun revolved around the earth.
A meddling klutz who means well,
but falls in the pool
just dipping its toes in.
A moody teenager pushing
away the adults,
but still asking for dinner.
A pep squad: shouting, shouting, shouting
tossing each other in the air,
smiling through a pulled muscle.
America is the gusting wind
fraying its own flag.
A dog snapping and barking to be loved.
The shock of a cold lake full of bright fish
after a hot tub of rippling anger.
Apathy catcalls empathy.
An illness chokes America,
rectangular like money.
Always open to the prospect
of development,
merchandise everlasting
absolved of accountability.
America is a mirage,
ephemeral as a cloud floating away
blocking the sun even as it evaporates.
By Barbara C.