Gavilan Literary Society

Take heed for it might be your only hope, watch the roads, be wary of the women you see, They are not all that they seem, They are every where, From any ocean, river, or stream, They are not quite sirens but some will surface dripping with gold, Beautiful and displaced in time, Missing girls and absent wives, The water calls to them, songs of comfort, joy, and pride, a life of leisure with the rolling of the tide, The city below the sea is generous as its people, all that they need is to feed , and everyone earns their keep, Keep a watch full eye, They will draw you in, just as she is now, Beautiful, tantalizing, oh look your one foot in the sea, A wide smile ,  trusting doe eyes, Your waist deep you should have heeded my warning, That enticing treasure you were so determined to keep, suddenly has the sharpest teeth....

Oh little me I seem to have grown, Growling under tables, I am now throwing my self in to fables, Bleeding so many words instead of reading them, Chicken scratch has morphed into Times New Roman, Clean cut documents are beyond the graphite stained pages, My old self isn't quite so grown though, I still growl under my breath and my fingers are still dirty, Imagination still dominates my thoughts from 7:45 to 12:30, They're quicker, All consuming, leaving me frazzled, There's no hope to contain them I just gotta get them all out, I try different styles and rhymes but still find a simple kind are best, So yeah little me I've branched out quite a bit, No longer bound to just the tall grass I've suddenly  grown wings, Not a griffin or eagle I seem to have grown into something else in between, Something ferocious, curious, and playful, Maybe not a sphinx whispering riddles, Dark mane with tanned wings, A creature longing for some kind

A smattering of words is all it seems and its all consuming, Taking minutes of my day, hours really, and I don't even notice, I'm happy to lose time and travel to another universe if it means keeping up, These new people, these new places, I can't wait to see it all, This is my spyglass to view another writers world because that's what it is, A universe between two covers that I return to now and then, Some are so painfully predictable you                                                          have to                                                                   set it                                                                         down                                                                                because its lost its wonder ... Others, dear goddess, others are enough to make me hungry for more, More plot, more people, more worlds, More words, Let me at these creations of mass distraction and let them sweep me awa

It varies in color but never in size, The world rearranges for it , But it  never changes for the world, Once its gone there's no getting it back, no matter the advancements, A world of darkness is all that we'd have without it, No worries though, Its not alone , This precious treasure comes as a pair , A matching set more valuable than jewels, Than endless gold, For what is the point of riches if you cannot watch them shine ?

Close your eyes and kiss logic goodbye, You know how this works, Nonsense, unconscious thoughts, the whole SHEBANG! It changes almost every night, Sometimes it scares me right out of it, Cold sweat, racing heart, fighting back the tears, Other nights its blissful darkness, Ironic since I'm afraid of the dark, Yet there are times where it all seems great, pushing along the fun times, easy dreams, and story plots, Those are the best, Is what they are, Dams, My unconscious key to a place for only me, To face the fears or put them off for just a moment longer, They are mine, my place to hide, my kingdom, my place to see, my place when in sleep.

The side of the gym, Ancient yet the outside was brand new, Deceptive as always, As most schools do, My number always got a puddle when it rained, Uneven black top never paid for, But even the new white walls have cracks, Branching out along the surface making me want to trace it with my fingers, Part of me wants to follow it with a pen or a paint brush, Opening others  eyes to my mind, I saw the curve of the splintered cracks and though of an arch way, a door way to some other world, It was made of mahogany but was frozen, Forever open just a crack, Just enough to see the world beyond, But not be part of it, Daydreaming away until a whistle startles it, Ruining colors, Fantastic sights just beyond the door frame, I'm left standing there on an uneven number, The world goes dull and grey.

Just reach for it, You've worked for this, Dressed up for this, filled out enough damned paper work for this, The cool metal slips through your sweaty fingers, A quick swipe on your pant leg saves face, The handle clicks against the ring on your finger, You may have a heart attack before you know,  Your chest aches at that thought, Adjusting the knot in your tie, Lighten the load, Take the handle, its time to go.

my mother my father brought us to this country with the hope that their daughters would make it further every day working harder giving up parts of themselves in the hopes that we would better ourselves in their home now seventeen years later there is a set of bookshelves used by their three daughters pursuing higher education with them serving as our main motivation three successful daughters grateful for the sacrifice of their mother and father -Maria Rios

Being of land and sea by Mariah Pompa A tangle of brown and blonde curls, wild smiles, Always finding her at the pier, breathing in time with the waves, With the way she stares at the sea, I would swear she was one, A free spirit, her eyes always shining, Once she dives in that's it, She'll search the ocean floor for shells, trinkets, and more, Swimming through the waves with envious ease, How does she do it? what's her technique? There's no answer, Not for the likes of she She was born for it, the sea a true mermaid that one, born with human feet.

More colors than a painters palate, The softest pinks, whites, and milky blues, Speeding by is such a crime, I have but a chance to enjoy you, Your blanketing the sky, The mountains almost ruin the picture, Jarring my mind, Tossing me from my day dream, but your almost a constant, looking up there's a chance, some clouds on the horizon, asking the wind for a dance.

 Feeding the beast Its there, The blood dribbles down my chin, Sweet, sweet it is, Not the copper tang, The tearing of flesh Strain of the jaw, Nostrils flaring, Pain of my tongue pressed against my teeth, The struggle ended, Fast it was, My eyes look nowhere, Its dark, A rumbling fills my chest, Garbling out my throat, It’s there, Satisfaction so sweet, Look at that,   No heart left to beat.

Mariah Pompa 4/28/17                                                          Jaw Bone Cry It echoes through the night, Sharp in pitch, Vicious in tone, The inside of a throat, Unleased this ungodly sin, Half triumph, Half agony The beasts of the world recognize it, They will call out into the night, Chills up the spine, They know this call, This animalistic cry, Someone has been put to rest, Their animal, Their inner beast, …Has been released.

All beauty lies in the night, Animosity, passion, fear, Gentle imagination our dreams steer, The truth lies in the day light, Harsh, unforgiving, bright, Second chances start with the rising sun, But the birth of ideas, the moon is hung.

It whittles away at my mind, Don't ask I can't name them all, They fade to the back of my mind, Granting me peace till someone brings it up, It slaps me on the back, making me recoil, I don't want to be crushed by it, The weight of my future, How I feel it's the lack there of, Subtle smiles and empty encouragement, It doesn't help me, the pressures still there, Whittling away at my mind.

Mariah Pompa An explosion of creation, firing synapses, thoughts always come back to this, Sometimes in a burst of color, Others with the spark of a wet match, small inconsistent yet dire for my survival, I have an IV of ink yet it still runs dry, a clogged artery or two won't let these thoughts through, How can I be me, how can I be free, how can I release these thoughts, For some reason I can't and it drags on for days, It all bubbles down to frustration and rage, Cause I can't get a damn word on a page!!, I'm getting desperate now, I long for that part of me, Come what may it's at the heart of me, I beg you, Erato, Euterpe, Calliope!!, Give me a sign!, These words keep spinning and spinning, Cluttering up my mind, I will have no peace till this mind finds a remedy, Falling out of rhyme, Stuttering over every line, Its lost its tempo, But I guess that's fine, I've written this mess and this mess is Mine.

                                                                                                                                                    Mariah Pompa                                                                                                                                                                                                   9/16/15                                                                  My Mental Playlist It starts with a tap, hitting play, then my mind is an empty theater no more, Music fills the edges of my consciousness, willing me to listen to the world around me and my internal playlist, The playlist varies in genera and volume, Drums shake the foundations of the theater, loud voices screaming lyrics as a guitar steels its back bone keeping the theater stable, Soft piano soothes my aching head, repairing any damage from the day or the playlists erratic performances,   Sometimes a song will start and I’m dragged u

Mariah Pompa World mythology 4/15/17 Origin of Shadows There was Darkness and Darkness alone, no beginning and no end. It was just one entity, whole and at peace. It wanted to expand, it wanted to create. With a reach beyond all it formed what would be Moons, planets, and asteroid belts. It wanted to go further, to create something more than rock. Reaching further it touched one of its creations and in darkness it formed the rough bark of trees, dappled the coolness of water, and created the first exhale of wind. This new creation would be Earth and Darkness loved it. Hearing the water rushing in the streams, the leaves fluttering in the wind, and the subtle turn as it spun. It could feel all of its creations but it could not see them. So Light was born. A flash so bright it startled Darkness and it lost part of itself. That part fled to Earth, trying to hide from the Light. It divided and divided until it could hide under the trees. By now it was no lon

Mariah Pompa Adv. creative writing 4/24/17 Level Up Each new level ups the armor, But still that leaves my defenses low, The attack on my person is pointless, But the battle is always in my soul,   The mind can become quite a force, The knowledge accumulated to a vicious storm, Still the whispers slither in, Tearing at my mind, So much for levels, So much for confidence, One well-placed blow, Fear harbored in my mind, It all goes to shambles, And my insecurities seem to shine.

Mariah Pompa 4/15/17 Revised 5/6/17 The Trouble with Beginnings For some reason there always had to be something that went wrong. Their group had been fine the whole way through the “Forbidden” canyons because they packed enough water. The boat used to cross the monster infested waters of lake Leviathan had been enchanted out of sheer luck. They had even found the fabled Sword of Conquers as they had been sent to do. How many people could actually say they completed their quest? It was a gorgeous weapon well, scabbard was from what she could see. To those unschooled in swordsmanship a sword as mighty as it may be always returned to its scabbard, a metal or leather casing made just for that sword. In this case the sword refused to leave its scabbard and the ‘valiant’ Prince Valerio had tried to remove the blade from its sheath but it wouldn’t budge. Since then things had been pretty dull except for the Prince’s mutterings about “stupid swords” as if scolding the weapo

Mariah Pompa 5/5/17                                                              Dead flowers and lanterns The shift of the seasons, Cherishing their freedoms, But I feel no joy,   My eyes wide open, Visions tunneling now,   I’m tumbling, Tumbling, Tumbling, Down,   The sun is shining, but I can’t feel it now,   The heat burns my skin, Yet the cold air passes my lips,   It’s frightening to feel this numb, Worse to be this young,   The loss of touch is killing me, The connection once real, So distant now,   The shadows closing in,   My constant companion,   The lantern light only reaches so far, My happy little sparks, My beating heart,   Oh look at that, I’m out of matches.      

Mariah Pompa    5/5/17 Ink Stained Heart My world feels so dead, My heart beat strains, The colors fade, The energy lost from the air, To get it back takes on thing, one simple thing, A simple poem here and there, A simple poem isn’t there, Where did it go? Those colors, Those pictures, Those sounds, The view is grey from where I sit, They’re closing rank, I feel claustrophobic, Yet I smile all the same, I’m grasping at straws, I can’t remember, When all I want is a name, My tongue curves to the words, My eyes fill with tears, The release of my heart, A word of English, Some sacred prize, This shouldn’t be a treat, It should be easy, Easy as breathing, Yet it’s all a jumbled mess…, There is no time to feel, Less time to write, We’re losing it now, Losing it all without a fight.