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Who is that person with the beautiful eyes,
that person I once knew, that would always say I love you with just the look,
but would never show no emotion,
as quiet as a lion,
but weak as a cub,
would do wrong and never look back to who he hurt,
years past by grew darker and cold with a broken heart,
 darker and darker the person with the beautiful eyes started to fade away to a dream he always wanted,
he never opened his mind to reality,
 to a better place it would have been,
 never cherishing and never able to let go of the past,
crying like a gloomy rainy day one day its going to be a bright sunny day,
 but for now you’re gone in a dream you always wanted,
as dark as your dream and as dark as your soul you’re better off for now, man with those beautiful eyes.

By 2nd period – Expository Reading and Writing

Do you get more respect by suffering

Outrageous forturne hurts

Take control of your troubles

Kill them all

Death is painless

The heartaches of living and the pain that comes with it

Live through the bad to live through the good

You wish to die so you feel no more pain

In order to dream you need to be alive

What do you dream of  when you have no more life

When we die

When  you die you get more respect

A long life is difficult

Who would take the pain off of a long life

It’s hard to think of all the oppression in the world

The pain of love

The king is being  an ass

It takes patience to murder

My uncle should die instead of me

To kill or not to kill

Should I live with the burden of justice

Scared of  going  to  hell

Doesn’t know the journey to an afterlife

No matter what you won’t return

We pay for our sins and decisions

Live in the moment

Because we think of life and death we live in fear

The truth is then revealed

Feels sick just by thinking  of  it

Value your moments

With this thought I have fear

And cant reach it

By Marlene Elizabeth Aguirre 

Thick and curly tendrils am I.  Unruly and untamed.  I go every which way, in every direction, she says I am endlessly frustrating.  But I can’t help it.  It is my nature.  With fewer products I frizz up like an African lion’s mane.

Regal and poofy I see myself, but she sees me as crazy and uncontrollable.  I do not wish to be controlled however. I wish to be free flowing and soft.  That which I am, in my natural state.  But she doesn’t approve.

On windy days, it’s always a struggle.  She pushes and holds me down or hides me under hoodies.  I want to blow in the wind like the luscious green leaves on the trees.  But I am somehow tamed in knotty mess she thinks to be “better” for whom?  Not me.  I wish to be free.

When it’s sunny out I soak up all the suns steamy hot rays.  I bounce in glorious ways; every step she takes springs me to life.  And the compliments and envious glares flood from every person around us, I feel happy down to the root, I wish to be free, and when it’s sunny, she lets me.

On the other hand humid rainy days are a heartless battlefield of vicious combs and fingers that rake through me mercilessly.  She mumbles under her breath every possible insult, upset and frustrated she gets as I absorb the water in the environment and expand.  She wants me to calm down and behave.  I do not wish to do so though, I just wish to be free.

When he’s around her, I get a lot of attention.  She toys with my ends and flips me from side to side, incessantly.  I can hear her giggle and I laugh on the inside too, he makes her happy.  And I like him.  He agrees with me, he likes my regal lion’s mane and the way I am naturally.  He tells her to let me be free.  I of course, agree.

There are sometimes, when she feels shameful and sad, she feels isolated but I never abandon her.  Despite the innumerable amounts of product and sprays she has evened me out with, despite the unceasing demeaning insults and putdowns, I am here, and she is my friend.  And on those cold lonely days, I help her hide her insecurities behind a curtain of thick curly hair.  On these days, I am her friend, I am happy to the root, I am free.

It seems unbelievable that such a thing could happen
Out of all the people we ask why you?
When will this pain end, when?

To us you were the dew,
To us you were a star,
A simple and radiant smile,
A bright ray of sunshine,
To us you were so much
That it is so hard to account for it all

It is so hard to think you are gone,
There was just so much,
So much for you to live,
For you to experience,
For you to gain,
“Why you?”, we ask

We all knew you or had seen you
And remember your bright smile
Your cheerful character
Your laugh
Your way of presenting yourself

Why must you leave us?
Why leave us to this eternal suffering?
To this unbelievable pain,
To this unbelievable confusion,
Why?
 
Don’t think this is something that will pass,
You will eternally be in our memory,
Forever and ever
Your life will not be forgotten,
And in every thought, you will  be there.

R.I.P Marlene Aguirre

This poem is dedicated to a beautiful young girl that was bright and intelligent. We, the Richmond High student body, will never forget such a star person.  This poem is dedicated to Marlene Aguirre:

M= magnificently

A= amazing

R=real

L= loyal

E= embraced

N= naturally

E= empowered

A= all

G= generally

U= useful

I= is

R= respectful

R= remembered

E= eternity

No one really values their life

to take the time to realize

that our days are shorter than what we think

never knowing ”goodbye” will be the last words we speak

not knowing the last time we close are eyes, will be the last time we sleep,

did you know that you were really partying like it was your last day?

that you would truly be missed & never see another day?

now that you’ re gone, your an angel now with god, I know that

every time the sun shines it’s your smile, so I nod..

R.I.P Marlene Aguirre

Reporter: Christianne Gomez

Poetry Out Loud is a  program where all the English classes at Richmond High recite poetry from www.poetryoutloud.org.  Each student chooses a poem of their own personal liking from the website and then memorizes it in order to present it.   For most  students this is a chance for them to demonstrate their poetic talents and a chance for their teachers to teach one of the hardest and most important parts of an English class.   All English classes participate in this activity, from each class there is a student that is chosen to participate in a school wide poetry recital.   From the school wide recital,  a student is chosen and he or she competes in other similar poetic competitions.  Students from around the United States then go to Washington D.C for a poetry contest and compete against one another.

Many teachers find the program to be beneficial like Ms. Boardman, who is a teacher at RHS, she mentions how ”it is important to introduce the language of poetry to Richmond High.”  Not everyone likes poetry, but those students that do, enjoy reciting their poem in front of their classmates; however, others, like Moises Caballero and Brian Mejorado, don’t like it.  Caballero commented that he felt that “rapping [the poem] is better, some are cool and some are weak, people should rap instead of reading [the] poems.” Likewise Mejorada feels that the poetry recital “should be optional because there are  some students that don’t want to learn poetry, but are forced to.” 

In order to be chosen,  a students recital must be unique and show that they understand their poem. Student interpretations vary,  some show feelings like sadness, depression, anger, or humor.  Some students are even dramatic and others simply show how much fun they are having with their poem.  The trick to be in this poetry contest is to impress the students and teachers at your school and show confidence in yourself and your performance.  In order to be chosen to compete you must have the following qualities: confidence, good hand gestures, a good tone of voice, rhythm, correct word pronunciation, you must pause at every period, comma or dash, know your poem very well, match the tone of your voice to the poem, and feel free to be a little dramatic. It seems like too much to handle,  but in the end it is worth it.

Reciting poems is hard but it is very fun when you have a great poem to read out loud.  Not many students ever thought of being able to recite their poems until they tried.   Once you get the hang of memorizing  the poem-the rest is simple.  Add a little drama to your performance and your audience will love it!

The final days for classroom performances at RHS will be January 20^th and 22^nd. On Wednesday January 27^th there will be a poetry contest in the student center at 2:45pm, and there will be food, prizes, and music.

For more information, contact your English teacher!

Out and about in the innocent of the night

never knowing for her life,  she’ll have to put up a fight

misused and abused,  nobody to help or by her side

did anybody hear her scream?   Did anybody hear her cry?

she was treated like an object and not as girl

people constantly judge her, but they don’t know her world

where she comes from.. and the thing she’s been through

the way some people are going about -is so not cool

do people even care that it happened at out our  school?

no one deserves to get raped,  no deserves to get beat

let’s come together and stand up on our feet

to make a better way and let the world see

that we care and were trying to make the best  of  the tragedy

Understand her pain,  understand her thoughts

Understand what she felt and the things she has lost

like her  I’m sex abused victim too

we want her to know, we are here for her

and life goes on

ALL I CAN HEAR IS YOUR VOICE… IN MY MIND.
FOR YOU I WOULD LEAVE THE WORLD BEHIND.
IT MAKES EVERYTHING SEEM SO RIGHT
IN YOUR ARMS YOU HOLD ME TIGHT.

ALL THE PROMISES YOU BREAK
YOU GIVE ME A SORRY
AND THATS WHAT I TAKE.
YOU PROMISE ME
AND YOU PUT ME IN THIS TRANCE.
ILL GIVE YOU THIS ONE AND ONLY CHANCE.

SING ME A SONG.
YOUR VOICE SETS ME FREE,
WHEN I AWAKEN, I WANT YOU RIGHT NEXT TO ME.
PROMISE ME TONIGHT, YOULL SING ME YOUR SONG.
YOUR INTOXICATING SOUND, I WOULD LISTEN ALL NIGHT LONG.

SING ME YOUR LULLABY.
SING ME TO SLEEP.
I HEAR YOUR HEARTBEAT,
AND FEEL IT SINK.

BY:Dalia Perez