by Laurie Christolear, thrid place winner of the Poetry Cafe third block

In a game of duck, duck, goose,
do you sit around waiting,
or get up and run?
Do you wait to get noticed,
or do you already stand out?
Are you bland and dull,
or colorful and bold?
I am untranslatable,
for I am a goose.
But you are translatable
because you are what they say you are.
I dance when you are still.
I skip when you walk.
I speak when you are silent.
And I find myself,
while you conform to your society.
Where you are just another duck,
I am the great, graceful goose.

by Dani Beach, winner of the Poetry Cafe 3rd block

The marbles I so carefully placed in a rowhave scattered.
They fall to the floor, then split to pieces.
A shard rips through my bare foot
Opening a wound from a time
When color drained from leaves.
I looked to the leaves full of hope,
Believing they would cling to the branch longer,
Until the last one fell.
I cursed the pallid sky
And resisted the frigid air,
But a wind swept me from my bed
And tossed me to a place I'd been before.
A place of fear
A place of rejection
But a wind swept me from my bed
And tossed me to a place I'd been before.
A place I once called home.
Now the fields are green once again;
The forests teeming with life.
Still, a wind takes me to that place of desolation
Now and again,
And I wait until the tide pulls me in, drowns me,
And I'm spit back onto dry land.
My spirit is chaffed and worn from repetition.
How many times must I die to
Convince myself to accept life?

One Dreary Morning by Kelcey Sexton

As I stared into the dark sky, I felt the earth begin to tremble.
“Today will not be a good day,” I sighed, lifting the strap of my ridiculously heavy backpack onto my shoulder.
The clouds scurried the sky, blotting out the sun with mounds of grey and black. There was no way that the weather today could be anything but an omen. Call me paranoid; that’s just how my mind works. The wind howled at me and ripped at my body as I hurriedly made my way to the only car in the entire neighborhood left in the street. The gloom of the morning darkened its exterior and gave it a sinister tinge.
While waiting at the red light, I made an effort to straighten up the mess that my hair has become. I hummed to the music as I pulled a stray of my black hair out of my vision.
“Come one,” I muttered impatiently, cursing the weather as the light transitioned from its boring red. I stomped on the gas and lurched towards the school – my own personal hell.
The tardy bell sounded as I fumbled with my keys.
“Remember,” I spat to myself, “curse that bell when sitting in first period.”
I sped through the parking lot, barely reaching the front doors before raindrops began falling from the sky. I pretended that the heavens were crying for me and my misfortune.
“You’re late, Weatherby.”
I pretended to be shocked and glanced at the clock on the wall behind me.
“Is that so? Huh,” I shrugged. “Personally, I think the bells are off anyway. Maybe I’m running late just like everyone else-“
My chemistry teacher turned beet-red as he glared at me and then at the empty classroom. Empty, that is, except for the single person in that godforsaken bunch that I liked and looked forward to seeing everyday. Liam sat with perfect decorum in the desk next to mine. He eyed me, patting the desk I always sit in, smirking all the while as he did so. Something seemed to be hidden behind that smirk. I took my seat beside him, wondering what he could be suppressing.
“Liam, do you know what’s going on?”
He merely shrugged as I had done moments before and narrowed his dark eyes as our teacher headed for the classroom door.
“No funny business, you two,” our fiery-faced instructor said before slamming the door behind him. I chortled as the door rattled on its hinges. Liam turned immediately towards me, catching me off guard.
“Something is awry, Luna. Can’t you feel it?”
I watched as his expression grew dire and panic-stricken.
“Liam-“
His face became even more pained. I heard a hiss begin in his throat and a grimace appear on his sickly face. I say sickly because on this particular day, he appeared to have a blue flush on his pale face.
“I mustn’t tell you what is to happen…”
Every word, every syllable was forced and hoarse.
“And it’s not that I don’t want to tell you. I do, very much so. I- I just can’t at this second.” I blinked, trying to clear my vision. He looked utterly distraught. I decided that I didn’t like this Liam.
“And I assure you, Luna, I do know what will happen.”
My voice failed me. I don’t think it would have done me any good, seeing as how I honestly did not know how to respond to any or his… madness.
His fingers clawed at the edge of his desk as a roar of thunder caused a tremor in the building. Suddenly, I felt helpless and alone. Fear traveled up my spine and gripped my lungs.
“I- I need water. Now.”
I scrambled out of my desk and to the door. One final glance back at Liam, who remained hunched over his desk seething, gave me the incentive I need to slip though the door. He was so believable. I shut the door behind me and sank to the floor, not knowing what to think. Exhaustion and total panic washed over me. I hoped that our teacher came back soon.
“What is going on?”
I wasn’t even affected so much by what Liam kept saying, just by the fact that I knew something was wrong. Very wrong. There was something so ominous in the air.
The hallway was scarce of life except for the brisk footsteps that approached where I have collapsed on the tile floor. I listened as whoever the footsteps belonged to stopped before rounding the corner and coming into view.
“Hello? Is that you Mr.-“
I stopped as I realized whoever it was had halted so as not to be seen. I cautiously got to my feet and crept towards the corner. I heard ragged breathing as I grew closer to the source of the footsteps. I thoughts better of exposing myself to the stranger who waited on the other side and began to slowly inch away.
Unexpectedly, I felt a hand snake over my mouth, keeping my bloodcurdling scream muffled. I turned with wide fearful eyes to see Liam behind me. He quickly knocked me backwards as he sprang upon the hidden figure.
The snarls and horrid noises that ensued chilled me to the bone, but I rushed to see the victim of Liam’s attack. I felt my blood turn cold as I recognized our teacher. He was only recognizable due to his flaming red hair; everything else about him was grotesquely disfigured and strange. The fact that he was strewn across the hallway may have had something to do with it, but what was left of him did not appear to be human.
Liam stood in the midst of the bloody mess panting. He was, I might add, free of gore or injury.
“Will you admit to feeling it now?”
I was aware that my hand was now covering my mouth. Slowly, I lowered it and swallowed, attempting to relieve my dry throat. Now I really do need some water.
Liam watched me intently as I took in the scene. I analyzed the situation. There was no hope for me. He was my only source of information and protection. I am so screwed.
“Please,” I wheezed, “please explain to me what the heck is going on. You do realize that you just massacred our chemistry teacher!?”
My fear and anger were causing me to tremble and shriek. I needed answers, and I needed them right that second.
“Once I get you out of here I’ll explain, but you won’t like it. I was warned that you wouldn’t.” His voice was barely audible behind the ongoing thunder.
He strolled through the remains, past me and down the stairs to the main level of the school. I had no choice but to follow him, not wishing to be left alone with the stench of violence and death.
“Great,” I mumbled, “my teacher is now a dismembered zombie or something, and now I’m following the creep who killed him who also claims to be all-knowing or something. Is it just me, or is this absolutely reckless and just plain stupid?”
Unaware that Liam has abruptly stopped I front of me, I ran smack into him and yelped.
“Think you’re crazy now?”
He opened the door of the school, letting a gust of rain and wind into the foyer.
“Just wait until you’ve seen the state of the world you once knew.”

Painted Ladies by Danielle Beach

The house was so still. The only noise to be heard was that of the ancient stairs squealing in agony with every step I too. I clenched the banister and continued to take slow, deliberate stops. Descending from the stairs I looked about me into the great room.
Great room. What a name. That room was filled with vivid flashbacks that smothered me as I crossed the mahogany wood floor to the small, draped window on the far wall. I swept the curtains away from my view and peered out into the street below. I opened the window, and an influx of cool air spilled into the room. The musty, leathery, dry smell settled into the large rug in the center of the room. I had grown accustomed to the lingering presence of the smell, as one would a client who has worn his welcome, but the memory of when I first opened that window and smelled that air never failed to creep into my mind.
I remained idle in front of the window for some time. Men busy with their morning tasks passed by beneath the window: the shopkeepers, the cattle herders, the miners, what have you. I would see, however rare, a woman stroll by, sometimes alone, sometimes escorted by a hopeful male companion looking to catch her eye. Either way, these women carried themselves with poise. Perhaps they held their heads up high, chins pointed nearly straightforward, because they were proud of their stature; perhaps they were proving that they were more refined and poised then the other women. Perhaps their corsets were drawn in too tight.
Nevertheless, they wanted nothing to do with our kind. They would never come right out and say it, but they thought of us as the scum of the earth this side of the Mississippi.
Why, then, were their husbands our prime clients?
I shut the window tight, crossed the room, and crept back up the stairs to wake the girls.