Hailey Neely
Humanities - ¾ 7 October 2014 Our Old Home I see the T.V. in the living room where I spent most of my time. I see my mom’s T.V. where she spent most of her time. I hear the footsteps of our neighbors as they walk on the floor above us. A possum would sometimes watch us from the fence of our back patio, eyes black like pearls. Sometimes when it rained it looked like our windows were breathing. On rainy days my mom and I would lie in bed and watch as the lightning hit our window. These are the moments I missed from our old home. Hailey Neely Humanities – ¾ 23 September 2014 Through My Window Through my window I see the brown roof top of the neighboring house. Through my window I see the street, as black as a crow. I see cars driving by as the night settles in. I see the porch lights on houses across the street. I see the dogs playing in the grass. I hear wind singing in the air I see houses I would like to live in. Community Poem I Am From the Parks I am from small cafes from sitting under umbrellas at Café Madeleine. And sipping tea in the tree house setting of Krakatoa. From Luigi’s pizza, sizzling and fresh, the cheese sliding off onto my waiting plate. From watching all the neighbors’ kids play in the street and swing from the branches. I am from freshly baked scones and live music at Rebecca’s. I am from close-knit community evening walk about events. I am from historic homes styled in Craftsman and Spanish Colonial architecture. From strolling down the neighborhood, it is like going back in time. I am from lying in grassy parks, warm from the sun. I am from hipsters, with their buttoned flannel shirts and bulky glasses. From small family-owned shops and people who are passionate about their work. I am from red bricks, wood and oil lamps, And restaurants that smell of mac n’ cheese and brewing beer. I am from the warm, toasted aroma of bitter-sweet coffee. From the ringing bell sound of clinking wine glasses and hot iron skillets. I am from soccer on the big screen in the middle of the street And games played beneath the Water Tower. From food trucks that line the sides of the crowded road. I am from the stunningly beautiful architecture of Balboa Park. From museums and statues that scatter the area. From museums that display the world’s history and people gazing at intricate and detailed art. From community groups and white silk weddings at the Prado. I am from festivals all year and family celebrations like weddings. I am from dog friendly parks full of happy puppies. From passing the rooftops to the top of the green trees visible from the Skyfari. From the reflection of the botanical gardens in the lily dappled water. North Park, South Park, Balboa Park, Where San Diego’s memories are being made. |
Hailey Neely
Humanities-3/4 16 September 2014 Aurora I am 16. I wonder if I will ever see his sweet brown eyes again. I hear the sound of the little birds speaking. I see the spindle of a spinning wheel I decide to touch the spindle of the spinning wheel. I want to see him again. I pretend that everything will be ok. I feel the approaching of heavy slumber. I touch the spiky rose in my hand. I worry I will never wake up. I understand I need my true love’s kiss. I decide to wait. I want to see him again. I say maleficent is very bad. I dream to feel his lips against mine, soft as a flower pedal I try to forget about my fate. I hope he defeats the ugly beast she is I will give anything to be with him. I decide I can’t stay asleep forever. I want to see him again. |