Seasons in Memories

Poem by Angela Rose

2nd Place for College Poetry - 2019 Met Awards

Summer
Warm sun kissed skin with bright smiles
Click after click of an instant camera

Fall
Leaves crunching against shoes 
Roasted Marshmallows and cosy jumpers

Winter
Freshly powdered rooftops and crisp air
Joyous smiles among crinkling wrapping paper

Spring
Twinkling city lights in the distance below
Laughter filled air and starry nights

About the Writer

Angela Rose is a Cerro Coso student.

Childhood Memories

Poem by Spencer Riley Shepard

1st Place for College Poetry - 2019 Met Awards

Faded red changed to rust,
An empty spot where a seat once sat,
Tires cracked and dried out, unable to hold a breath.
Chains and gear petrified.

Only happy memories from this memorial of rust,
of a generation that played from sunrise to sunset,
of jumping off curbs in the neighborhood,
and the hum of streetlights flickering on.

Weeds knitting into spokes,
webs mingling with the frame,
dust clinging to all.
Rust fading red.

About the Writer

Spencer Riley Shepard is a Cerro Coso English major and Kern River Valley poet.

The Transformed

Poem by Anthony L McFarland of Cerro Coso Community College
3rd Place for College Poetry - 2017 Met Awards

Where the keepers of light guide the way, under which
The lean shadows of learned men walk on.
Where blackened skies are pin-pricked with light,
Beneath these, flint-hard minds are made malleable.
Where brick buildings hinder the sun and
Spaces reserved for the sorters of knowledge hold solace.
Where specific volumes are kept on the ear and in the head,
Adjoining head and heart in earnest.
Where scripture is written from the pulpit of enlightenment,
Bearing witness to the wisdom of the ages.
Where the potter at his wheel implores rapacious minds,
There I am.

For The Small Town

Poem by Jenna Daugherty of Cerro Coso Community College
2nd Place for College Poetry - 2017 Met Awards

For just a moment,
It blurs.

The lyrical drops of a leaky spout
The strained voices of the tired congregation

Just for a moment,
It stirs.

The nostalgia for rain whiffs
The memories of smells after changing locations

For a moment,
It brings.

The clumsy sensation of overcoming a chain link fence
The déjà vu thought of identical wanderings

These moments experienced
Cause a


Hesitation


A pause

A Remembrance of that small town and
the girl who grew up there.

Like a Phoenix

Poem by Bailey J. Crocoll of Cerro Coso Community College
2nd Place for College Poetry - 2017 Met Awards

Misery is felt in the lament of a mother,
the weight of raw grief,
an emotion unlike any other.

Light slants through stained glass,
throwing soft hues of color along the floor.
Hulking oak beams vault along the ceiling,
strong and unyielding.
Rows of  burning candles flicker,
silent.

Loss can be heard through the words gone unspoken,
the stutter of wounded breaths,
the sound of hearts that are broken.

The cavernous room echoes with
the patter of rain and the shuffle of feet.
Stifled sobs and a whisper of sadness,
ripple along the somber pews.
Grief prowls along the rows,
predator.

Despair is seen in the guests that stare,
unblinking in shock,
nursing an ache like a tear.

Trembling fingers trail slowly,
over a bleak wooden box.
Clouds of incense float,
unbothered by the audience that stands.
Eyes that are burning,
stricken.

Hope can be found in the words of the priest,
a guarantee of safety,
a promise of peace.

Voices are uplifted sweet,
united in song.
Reflections are shared,
about the son that was lost.
Slowly, there are smiles,
rising.

Love can be sensed in hands held tight,
whispers of "I love you" and
"It'll be alright."

The fragrance of flowers,
settles gently in the room,
worn bravely on shoulders
of those who were torn.
Secure grips that hug around shoulders,
healing

Life can be found in memories that spark,
unseen in their eyes,
 free of the ashes, they rise from the dark.

Like a phoenix.

Contributor's Note: Last month a friend of mine from high school, Phoenix, was killed at the age of nineteen in a motorcycle accident. This poem was written for him and the fond memories that we'll always relive.

Perversion of Dreams, Love, and Faith (Or Sonnet 1)

Poem by Brandon M. Biggs, 12th Grade, California City High School
1st Place for High School Poetry - 2017 Met Awards

Do not dreams hang suppressed upon the mind?
Sunken pressure upon sad men seeps out
Onto those around them. Pressing their binds
Like shackles, seeking to sink in the drought.

Does not love drown the senses of victims?
Each willing, sail'd their hearts across channels
To another. The pleasure leaked symptoms
Of lust, as they sunk their ships with scandals.

Does not faith strangle the eyes of its zealots?
A tsunami paranoia floods
After all who differ from them. Helots,
Bound by beliefs, like drink with acid suds.

Dreams, love, faith-all inspire men with purpose-
Become toxic poison when in surplus.

Contributor's Note: I enjoy writing poetry, and stories; drawing, painting, and sculpting when I can; creating small programs, and learning. My poetry is often depressing, covers heavy subjects, or is quite long, but this time I have tried to make it more profound than heavy and depressing. This is also my first try to do a sonnet-styled poem.

Heart in Hand

Poem by Jennifer Jones of Cerro Coso Community College
1st Place for College Poetry - 2017 Met Awards

all I wanted was a heart in hand. mine in yours
to be exact.
what was I thinking? (yes, yes. i wasn’t.)
a sonnet submerged in the lines I stuttered out through
my pathetic keyboard.
electric and love notes.
but you,
were never going to crack that code.
you had to have been looking for,
hoping for the chance,
in the first place.

Like You Said You Would

Poetry by Izabella Carter of Burroughs High School 
2nd place for high school poetry--2016 Met Awards


The smoke rose and the fire danced into the chimney.

Hot chocolate burned my lips, while brandy burned yours.

I watched your sweet face, aglow from the firelight,

A smile played on your features when you caught me staring.

An arm pulled me close, nestling me into your side,

I closed my eyes, expecting you to hold me close.


                    Like you said you would.


Like the smoke from the fire, you dissipated into the winter air.

Instead of tasting brandy on your lips,

I tasted vodka on my own.

I swallowed the last of my glass, and the last of my loneliness.

Tears pricked my eyes when I stood,

Teetering on drunken feet.

A bed awaited me, and I swear I could still smell you in the sheets.

The late nights of love making and drunken promises had passed.

I closed my eyes,

Expecting you to hold me close,

                    Like you said you would.

Moonlight passed over your side of the bed and I felt the absence of your presence.

Remembering the nights spent tangled together causes my heart to ache.

My lungs strained with the effort it took to breath,

I felt the ghost of your fingertips on my skin.

Feeling the effects of the vodka finally stir in my veins,

“How could you leave me?”

You told me you would love me, you told me you would stay,

How convenient that when I needed you most,

You aren’t here.

Your love was gone and so were you.

You didn’t stay,


                    Like you said you would.

Contributor's note: I'm Izabella Carter, better known as Izzy.

I'm 15 years old and have lived in Ridgecrest all of my life;

although I'm young, I've experienced tragedy but also, extreme

happiness (the tragedy in relation to the creation of my works).

I enjoy hiking, photography, writing poetry, and striving to meet

my goals.

Yes

Poetry by Jennifer Jones of Cerro Coso Community College
2nd place for College Poetry-2016 Met Awards

You bring up Colombia and Korea,
“Maybe we can go there together someday,
in five years or so.”
You talk about meeting the only girl for you before leaving
this country.
And I think,
I’d just get in the way.
Your messages sound too much like goodbye letters.
I say I’m so happy.
So proud.
Really.
You say a knight in shining armor will come rescue me someday.
You say you might be leaving
this summer.
You say it twice as if I’ll forget.
I say a knight will just get in the way.
I should have said yes.

I have Known Loss

Poem by E. K. Heflin of Burroughs High School
1st Place for High School Poetry - 2016 Met Awards

I have ached away
a thousand lonely hours

I have dismantled myself with hope

When I imagine this ruthless heart
quitting you
cold

Like an addict
with a lease on life
ten years overdue

I cannot bring myself
to ache properly
I cannot bring myself
to try.

Snapshots

Poem by Alex Tellez of Cerro Coso Community College
1st Place for College Poetry - 2016 Met Awards

alongside the springs, who foster the roots,
doves of hues & explorations are
always there,
always lingering,
always waiting to enrapture us all, if just for the night.

~

on the eve of the apex, 

i asked myself if i was special

(yet that tore my heart)

and if i would feel true warmth

(it hurts less to disguise our ideas with baseness)

and if this still would last forever

(one can never find that interior balance between right and) real.

~

To follow the love of the heart and the
          moon is the ultimate experience
                    (for the moon’s shied her way into
                              the heart many, many times).
                                        Perhaps they laugh at our breakups,
                                                            our compulsions,
                                                                                our regressive tendencies to idolize;
                                        they know the shtick all too well.
But often, after the peak of drunkenness, they envy us, giving us nothing but snapshots.

Contributor's Note: This poem followed a heavy binge of e. e. cummings poems. The piece is modeled as a triptych depicting the moon and the heart in three realms of nature: the outer (physical), the inner (emotional), and the universal (philosophical).

Paper Skin

Poem by Emma K. Heflin, 10th Grade, Burroughs High School
2015 Met Awards - Second Place for High School Poetry

“For understanding, for truth,”
She spoke with a blush
“For appreciation and remembrance.”
This she spoke sincerely
To let the runners, the hiders, know.
This she spoke so others would share,
Share in the knowledge she herself found
When she wrote, yes, she wrote,
On her hands and her arms,
For understanding, for truth
For appreciation and remembrance.
From the Bible, from Shakespeare,
Both treated alike
With a reverence for words,
Everlasting and strong
With respect for the art
So few call upon
She wrote, yes, she wrote,
On her hands, on her arms,
For understanding, for truth,
For appreciation and remembrance,
She wrote, yes, she wrote.

My Humming Bird

Poem by Sophie R. Walker of Cerro Coso Community College
2015 Met Awards - Second Place for College Poetry

Take time to stretch your wings
My humming bird
Ever Roving,
Listen to your song
Graceful
Constant
Waking the air.
Prismatic myriad of welcoming petals.
Flittering
For your need of nectar.
Energetic performance of nature’s creation
Perfectly accepted inconspicuous noise maker.

Note: For my son Sulliven whose personality is amplified by ADHD

Seventeen

Poem by Kelsey Saxton Hire, Senior at Burroughs High School
2015 Met Awards - First Place for High School Poetry

At seventeen
I never feel clean
I wear my
Stained cheeks
After weeks
When the
Silence breaks
And cuts
So deep
I can’t sleep

At seventeen
I always feel mean
I say
What I feel
As I
Try to heal
I see
Myself burn
As I
Try to learn

At seventeen
I never feel seen
I fall
To the floor
As I
Lose the war
My armor
Is darker
As my tears
And my fears
Lace a
Hopeful face

At seventeen
I do feel lifeless
But my
Tears truly
Remind me
I am
Human not
A mess

Undecided

Poem by Jennifer Jones of Cerro Coso Community College
2015 Met Awards - First Place for College Poetry

A red string tied tight around a ring finger.
Reminds me of what,
or who, I'm tied to.
I try to live around it,
this inconvenience.
A red string that tangles in the fingers
of a nice boy. He stops holding my hand.
Sometimes I travel, wrap the red string
round my wrist, my arm.
Heartbeat drumming, I always turn around
and watch it unravel.

Montmartre, Paris

Poem by Janace Tashjian of Cerro Coso Community College
2014 Met Awards - Honorable Mention for College Poetry

She wept
and weeds grew around her feet
the black cat leapt

Words inept
granite cloak to hold her seat
she wept

Hooded eyes as shadows crept
across each stone, hide ... retreat
the black cat leapt

Endless mourning; below he slept
above, scorching freezing sleet
She wept

Barren bracken o'er the crypt
ravens swoop and caw conceit
the black cat leapt

Eternal. Wind swept
oh beauty! The bell tolls "Silence"!
she wept
the black cat leapt

Snow Walk

Poem by Katy Harvey of Cerro Coso Community College
2014 Met Awards - Honorable Mention for College Poetry

spring snow in Tahoe
pitching pinecones, gentle wind.
diggin' earth this day.

Circa 2003

Short Story by John Schneider of Cerro Coso Community College
2014 Met Awards - Honorable Mention

A supermarket parking lot
In Newbury Park was my office
I sat saturated with
Careless ennui in the morning sunlight
That warmed my car's interior
Looking at letters to send, counting my change

When I saw them
Two unselfconscious lovers
Cuddling nuzzling
Head to head, head to neck
Face to chest

Oblivious to many nearby
Walking or sitting or driving or existing
On foot or in clever
Wheeled or fixed boxes
Careless of the couples
Public, unashamed amour

A tree branch spanning high
Over market's wall
Was their lovers' perch
On swaying twig-tip they stood close
Two crows engaged in airy foreplay

Ignorant of us ignorant to them

In their bliss

The 20th Year

Poem by Korinza Shlanta of Cerro Coso Community College
2014 Met Awards - 2nd Place for College Poetry

How my soul is filled with trepidation,
And my path seems covered by growth
Or perhaps it's the dilapidation
Or even just the loss of my own oath.
How I swore to be better and achieve
My dreams in quick strides, but my pace is slow.
In my twentieth year I shall not grieve.
I have time ahead, so little in tow.
A decade ahead, a decade behind,
Fewer seasons seem to pass before me.
Yet, I learn to shape my body and mind
From my thoughts into actions you can see.
I will clear my own path with my own thought.
A path for me I follow not for naught.

To the Artist

Poem by Emma Heflin
2014 Met Awards - 2nd Place for High School Poetry

To the artist Who himself is a work of art.
Your paintings of war and earth and misery
Are nothing compared to what I see.
Because war and earth and misery
Are sad, sometimes beautiful, too.
Anyone can see how that is true.
But nobody sees you the way I do.
My artist
Who himself is a work of art.