Posted by thinkerlitmag on February 22, 2009
by RC
In my life, you are the bright, shining sun.
Your presence makes my heart begin to glow.
As beautiful and graceful as a doe
And as innocent and pure as a nun.
Over you, wars are fought and battles won.
To lose you is the source of all my woe;
Such a day, I don’t want to come to know
Because, to me, you’re always number one.
Perhaps, with my penning of all these lines,
Something deep in your heart and mind will click
And, looking back, you will see all of my signs.
You will realize what you have always meant
To me, who hath always thought thee heav’n sent.
Perhaps then, I will be the one you pick.
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on February 5, 2009
by AB
almost learned to deal with the confusion
and then you threw me another curve
don’t know why this is so hard
can’t just push this away
you didn’t imagine me
and i’m pretty sure i didn’t
imagine you
i tried to be honest
just hope that you can be
honest with yourself
because i’m not so sure right now
i just can’t
understand why you can do one thing
and feel another
can’t understand
why i can say one thing
and mean another
i guess without the magic and monsters
we’re coming crashing down
making the jump
or maybe not
i hope i didn’t think wrong
when you told me what you did
i hope you don’t think
this means i’m leaving
because that just won’t happen
i’ll still love you
forever
like i told you
just don’t leave me behind
in the dust
when you decide
please
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on February 5, 2009

by MB
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on January 22, 2009
IM
As drizzles turn to sprinkles and
Sprinkles turn to rain, seasoned leather boots soak slightly;
Cotton-clad-liquid-speckled fauna shelter beneath
Glass canopies as blue jeans turn half a shade bluer.
Zephyr and water share the soli for this blustery midmorning etude;
The first movement begins; A sparse audience thins,
Leaving a synthesiac bloke who thinks
Arpeggios smell of flax
Seeds and the word myalgia tastes like a proper English
Breakfast, to weather the squall.
Barnes and nobility
Come hand in hand, the green and white sign above him explains,
Enticing diabetics, passersby and patrons alike, akin to the
Tenured sugar-free mint after a bowl of beef flavored Phô.
To some, the scent of sweet Seattle brew wafts in like a
Polish bacia’s cooking or that of an Ohio grandmother’s kitchen;
To others, the stench of those caffeine pips act as a gentle
Slap to the cheeks Sicilian matriarchs are known to exercise while
Remarking on one’s lack of girth and anemic complexion with the only
Remedy being a tomato coated, olive oil basted heart attack and aneurism
Combo waiting to happen that’s served on a platter that came
On the boat with (God rest his soul) prozio Paulo from the old country.
Tangents are gone off of
And stories are told.
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on January 22, 2009
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on December 20, 2008
by BL
Roll on, waves so blue
For it’s change that often comes to you
Waiting under the mellow skies
Holding all that lives and dies
When storms come, you see them through
Then show off a calmness new
You’ve had my love through all tides
Though you couldn’t see it for a wave has no eyes
The colder and shorter the days
The less I see the waves
But inside know they’re still there
Swilling beneath the fresh sea air
Hold on, waves so blue
Maybe someday I’ll be close to you
When the air is warm and the days long
I will sing you sweetly our secret song
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on December 20, 2008
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on December 10, 2008
AM
Red is a rose on Valentine’s Day
A sweet autumn apple
Or a splendid sunset
Ending the perfect day.
Red is fire, a passionate blaze
Or smoldering destruction
Devastating, consuming
Everything in its path.
Red are Christmas baubles
Draped upon a tree
Twenty-six hearts and diamonds
To a deck.
Red is rage, burning fury,
A bull charging the toreador
Consuming wrath that clouds your mind
As well as your sight.
Red is gentle, careful love,
A colored heart adorning a card
The first time your elbows accidentally bump
And a shy kiss under the stars.
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on December 10, 2008
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on December 10, 2008
Anonymous
We’re spinning, whirling, spiraling,
like an amusement park ride,
never-ending, I can’t get off,
I can’t get over you,
I can’t get around you,
not that I want to.
I’d much rather stay right here,
in front of you,
obvious.
I’d prefer to let you,
brighten up my world,
shaming the sun in your brilliance,
have you warm me,
in that ineffable way that you do.
Maybe this is selfish,
it’s certainly sinful,
but, somehow, when your smile,
sets my soul ablaze,
throwing everything else into,
imperceptible shadow,
I can’t bring myself to care.
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on December 10, 2008
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on December 10, 2008
(anonymous)
It’s a feeling unlike
any other
a pain, need, want, all
in one.
It’s a burning, turning
in my core,
my heart, stomach,
down to my knees,
rising into my throat.
It rises to my eyes,
prickling, burning
there.
It escapes my throat,
my eyes,
but burns still
throughout me
an everlasting
ache
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on December 10, 2008

Bobble Head Art from Ms. Finn's class
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on December 9, 2008
By MO
11:11
the red light illuminates,
the first bright twinkle as I
throw my head back,
candles flicker, my cheeks puffed,
a coin plunks into the water as
I look over my shoulder,
the clover I lift to my face
is even, not odd,
the penny is smiling up at me.
It’s you every chance…
so where are you?
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Posted by thinkerlitmag on December 8, 2008

Bobblehead from S. Finn's class
Posted in art | Tagged: computer graphics, haverhill high school, n-euro, student art | Leave a Comment »