25/26
Opera Omaha’s Poetry & Music Project is produced in partnership with:
Supported by:
Additional project partners include:
by
Now in its 9th year, the Poetry & Music Project connects student writers and their words with composers to create original songs and explore the connections between poetry and music.
In Fall 2025, Opera Omaha and the Nebraska Writers Collective invited students from Nebraska and Iowa to submit works of poetry on the theme “Memory.” Throughout the fall, over 200 elementary, middle, and high school students took part in NWC-led Poetry & Music writing workshops focused on helping students add musicality to their poetry.
Over the last 8 years, more than 1,000 poems have been submitted to the Poetry & Music Project. This year, Opera Omaha and NWC asked students to submit works of poetry exploring the theme of memory. Writers were asked to share memories — big and small — that made an impact on them, forever changed them, that are worth reliving, that they want to gift to others. Opera Omaha received 87 poem submissions from students across Nebraska and Iowa. Poets ranged from second graders to high school seniors, including first time poets and seasoned writers.
While there were many outstanding poems submitted to the project, in the end, project composers Sidney Marquez Boquiren and James Schroeder selected 14 poems that inspired them to create original music with the poems as the lyrics. Four additional poems were selected by Opera Omaha's Holland Community Opera Fellows to be the inspiration for original pieces of visual art.
In spring 2026, poets and composers along with project pianist, Opera Omaha Head of Music Josh Quinn, and Opera Omaha singers, gathered for workshops to collaborate on the original pieces of music. These workshops were a magnificent inspiration for the composers and singers as the students participated in the collaborative process of molding the pieces into their final form through thoughtful questions and energetic responses. These pieces premiered with a concert on May 9, 2026 at the Omaha Conservatory of Music and via livestream. Recordings of each song are available on Opera Omaha’s website.
The book represents a nearly nine month-long labor of love with countless hours of work put in by students, educators, composers, singers, pianist, and staff from Opera Omaha and the Nebraska Writers Collective.
6 “Good Company” by Nora Barth
7 “Friends Like Them” by Allison Billau
8 “Making Memories” by Briana Brown
9 “My Tears” by McKinley Coe
10 “The Simple Things” by Sophie Dudek
11 “A Simple Thank You” by Maren Ferguson
12 “Little me” by Juliett Flores-Fierro
13 “Saltwater Taffy (Best If Used By 2018)” by Lily (Emery) Jobst
14 “Shadow Guide” by Allison Kriz
15 “Enough Exactly as I Am” by London Krumwiede
16 “Piercing through the Dark” by Emery Lausterer
17 “A World of Pure Imagination” by Adeline Olsen
18 “Untitled” by McKenna Songster
19 “A Cabin in the Woods” by Alice Tripp
20 “The Taste of Christmas” by Charlotte Armstrong
21 “Summer” by Alexander Bair-Goeppner
22 “Numbing Delusions” by Kelly Barrett
23 “Puzzle Pieces” by (Vic)toria E. Brown
24 “A Poem For Grandma” by Hana Butters
25 “Australia” by Clara Callen
26 “Cover Me” by Jay Cary
27 “Women’s haircut” by Isabel Casas
28 “A Word Called Memory” by Zariah Champlin
29 “A Soul Now Omnipresent” by Reeya Chundury
30 “A Summer Walk” by Vanarra Clark-Baker
31 “My First and Only Sleepover” by Ava Conner
32 “Summertime Fun” by Olivia Crawford
33 “Hiraeth” by Charlee Crouch
34 “If I Remembered Being Born” by Willa Davis
35 “Love for Theatre” by Loni Davis
36 “Hanging With My Friend” by Jaxton Dean
37 “Going with my Aunt” by Addilea DeBilzan
38 “Ocean Blue” by Chris Diaz
39 “As Is Memory” by Samantha Dodd
40 “Death of All My Friends” by Aidan Dodson
41 “Fishing” by Eden Doke
42 “Wishes to my past” by Madison Dornbusch
43 “Dragonflies” by Zoe Eberspacher
44 “The thoughts of a Fungi” by Natalee Ganoe
46 “The Fire And Flames” by Gabriella Garcia
47 “Me in the mirror” by Ameiah George
48 “Liberty's Memory” by Avery Glaza
49
“Don't Say Goodbye” by Diana Gomez
50 “Leaf Rain” by Isabella Green
51 “Getting Our Pet Dogs” by Lynlee Heneger
52 “Playing the Big Game” by Russell Hicks
53 “Joy Has Wings” by Harmony Hittner
54 “Good boy, Goodbye” by Ruby Hobza
55 “Hall of Memories” by Emmy Howell
56 “Kindness Through The Land” by Charlotte Karre
57 “New Memories” by Adrishya Kumar
58 “Making Friends in a New Place” by Alexander Langie
59 “The Orange Scream” by Iris Lee
60 “Swim Day” by Demi Lindsey
61 “Memories of Great Grandma” by Malasia Lipkin
62 “Tomorrow is Only a Word” by Charlize Marinovic
63 “The Stage” by Olivia Merchant
64 “My New Puppy” by Meadow Moore
65 “Memories I can’t remember” by Veronica Nester
66 “You, Through My Meaningful Ache” by Stephany Orellana-Gomez
67 “My Very Own Birthday” by Sawyer Osborn
68 “I, 80 // "Do Roadkill Pray, Too?" by Chris Otto
69 “When I Saw A Raccoon” by Tayleigh Parsons
70 “My Grandma” by Spencer Pein
71 “My Memories” by Ainsley Powell
72 “Nature's Memory” by Elena Powers
73 “A Trees Story” by Johan Pradheep
74 “A Memory” by Averly Rakestraw
75 “The Football Game” by Patrick Rawson
76 “Untitled” by Ollie Riggins
77 “memory” by Audrey Sadler
78 “The Day We Got Our Pool” by Sam Sahs
79 “Remember” by Britta Skiermont
80 “My Friend” by Marie Sobczyk
81 “Lucky Broken Girl” by Am’Agyn Spencer
82 “The Painful Truth of an Adopted Foster Sibling” by Margot Stevenson
83 “Memories” by Rainbow Sturdivant-Wilson
84 “A future I hope to see” by Faith Tanner
85 “Memories with friends” by Easton Tinnell
86 “Our True North” by Evelyn Urban
87 “Homesick” by Greta Urban
88 “My Papa” by Milly Waldron
89 “Dreams” by Ruthie Wallace
90 “Little Ocean Mind” by Edie Walter
91 “Memory” by Oakley Wemhoff
92 "Don't Think. Swim!" by Emerson Widener
93 "My Little Kyle" by Piper Wissler
Art on inside front & back covers created by Holland Community Opera Fellows.
By Nora Barth
The mind is a funny place
Mine is, at least It fills in the gaps
Destroys the blank space
I laid on the carpet
Wrapped in a jacket
Trying so hard to silence the racket That pulled at my eyelids, Turning them blue
Making me question What’s false and what’s true
Then you texted me, saying, Come over today. Sit with me until you feel better, okay?
I wish you the peace Flooding through me that day As I stepped through your door And I finally felt safe
The fist round my sternum relaxed and released The inner voice telling me petty lies ceased And then I sighed deeply
Woke up from myself,
Found joy in just taking a mug from the shelf Talking beneath the orange kitchen lights And sipping some tea
Next to you
On the couch
By Allison Billau
I’m tired, of being pulled in, just to be left out. Of people asking me if I’m okay, and not caring what I say.
I’m tired, of putting on a fake smile, when it’s not worthwhile. Of being alone, while I’m facing the unknown.
I’m done, of pretending I don’t mind, just because I’m kind. With people talking behind my back, then wanting my feedback.
I wish, They would stop telling me just a little longer, I’ll make friends soon.
They don’t know what it’s like, to leave best friends, And try to move on.
No one ever fills the gap they filled, cares the way they cared understands me, like they did.
They say I have to move on, try again, brush it off, pick my head up, just to make friends, like them again.
By Briana Brown
I love my mom a ton, Spending time with her is so fun.
We make memories every day, We snuggle, we sing and we play
I had a dog, she liked hearing chimes We played together all the time
But they had to put her down She had cancer that they found
My great grandma died too When we had things to do.
Life was good with her, We spent to Thanksgiving together.
By McKinley Coe
My tears aren’t for the present but for the present thoughts
They’re for the future times but soon to be forgot
The rivers up and down my cheeks are for the ones who fought
With all they had and wanted though they didn’t earn a lot
My tears are for the harder times for the ones who sought
They wanted to be free and that’s just what they got
My tears aren’t for the present times but for the present thoughts
By Sophie Dudek
It’s the simple things
A chessboard
A poem on a scrap of paper that you’ll never see
The sunrise
The sunset
The predictable cycle Known as life And death
The fine print that you’ll never read
An apple tree
A novel, too
The simple things, Simply, Remind me of you
By Maren Ferguson
Look to the stage
Look at the lights
I can’t believe that I’m here tonight
To be chosen at a glance
To have this chance I can feel my excitement take flight
My words brought to life I watch without strife
And I love to admit that it feels so right
I wrote this play and its characters I know exactly what occurs
But I never dreamed I would see this sight
Dearest actors, this is for you I regret to say it is long overdue
To the original cast of Vocation Vex tonight
This is the moment when all feels right
So to you I must say with no regret
A simple thank you for a memory I will never forget
By Juliett Flores-Fierro
Little me loved the sights, little me never got into fights, little me would remember it all
Remember the way the wind would sway from the storm that cleared that day. Remember the sand as it hit my small hand. Remember it all as a story, one of great beasts and monsters, one where little me could conquer, little me was strange but she was never ashamed.
By Lily (Emery) Jobst
Crab apple pincers nip my fingertips Staining my hands red, mouth watering
A tangy smell of applesauce, trembling I pick my poison off the tree.
There’s salt in the air, peeling off my skin remnants of an ocean slipping through my hands that stay pressed to my ears To hear the waves beat down my back,
And the little crabs scuttle up my spine Sour apples now taffy on my tongue.
I check the date — expired.
By Allison Kriz
We walked a path no map could hold, Two shadows long in the evening gold. You stood a step ahead of me, A taller truth I hoped one day to be.
You showed me shortcuts through the wood, Swore every path was understood; Even when you weren’t quite sureYour confidence made mine secure.
I trailed behind your fearless stride, A quiet pride I could never hide; You would push me softly in the dirt, Just to pull me up again and make sure I’m not hurt.
You teased me, yes–your favorite sport, With half a heart and full retort. But when the bigger kids drew near, You stepped ahead and killed their cheer.
Always half my guide, But also the reason I half survived. My older brother, braver and wiser, Always the one to start the fire.
By London Krumwiede
I'd like to remember the quadratic equation, but my brain's backstage strumming strings, fingertips landing like dancers on frets, E minor echoing louder than test prep.
I'd like to recall the voice of my science teacher, but instead, I hear the facts about Greenland sharks whispering secrets from 2,000 feet deep:
“If you were me, you could live more than 500 years.”
I want to memorize these dates of the Civil War, but my mind's playing this continuous loop of what the city smelled like three years ago, how my socks were wet that year in third grade, and the color of my cousin's bike.
I want to focus on the whiteboard, but my thoughts are popcorn-buttery, bouncy, brilliant, but sometimes burnt.
I wish I could be linear, like my classmates are, but I am a spiral staircase of memory, and the facts fall through the cracks while the feelings stick, like gum under desks.
I remember the rhythm of rain on the roof during recess, the taste of grape jelly that spilled onto my math worksheets, the sound of my name mispronounced like a foreign song. I forget formulas, but I remember the way the guitar hums when I press the strings just right; like it knows me.
So, perhaps my memory loops, maybe it leaps, maybe it lingers in places no one would look. But it's mine. And it sings. And I'm learning that this song is not a mistake, that how I think is not a problem, that it is the prism that bends light into colors others might never see. My mind is not broken, it's brilliant; not less than, but different: a kaleidoscope of creativity, a chorus of connections.
So, I grow by embracing the spiral, by trusting the tune my brain composes, by knowing that beauty lives in the way I think.
And when I forget the formulas, I remember myself. And that is enough.
By Emery Lausterer
In the house where silence grows, Lives a girl that no one knows She wears my face but hides her name, A fading spark, a ghost in a flame.
They said, “Don’t cry,” yet words remain, Echoes carved through years of pain I built new masks, forgot my grace, The mirror shows another face.
But from the attic, faint and thin, A whisper stirs beneath my skin: “Remember love, remember when.” Through the dark I’ll find my way, Piece by piece, day by day She’s not gone – just deep within, The girl I was, my light, my skin.
By Adeline Olsen
In the dark, I watched and I waited. All was still, but my mind buzzed with every small sound.
Ropes were pulled, costumes rustled. The orchestra rumbled beneath my feet planted firmly on the floor.
Goosebumps pricked up on my skin as the drums came one after another. Louder, louder, so, so loud.
Instruments swelled along with my heart and the curtain raised. I could fly.
Stage lights hit like beacons. Voices rang out as I danced into a world of free creation.
Amid the harmony, the audience beamed as the magic began — passion set free.
I didn’t take the stage. The stage took me.
By McKenna Songster
Memories found deep within the brain
Made more tender and made more tame
Are buried horrors long forgot Less pain and sorrow left unthought
They wind and twist through darkened space And circle ‘round their desperate fate They cause us pain and cause us fright
Playing forever through the deepest night
But the memories in the front most part The tender feelings of the heart Awake in the sweeter dreams of day Where the happy mind seems to stray
Where the summer sun is always up And droplets slide down every cup
Smiling faces and gleaming eyes
Shining forth in pure delight
Those happy moments I recall Big events or moments small Bring joy in sorrow, relief in pain And outlive those memories in the back of my brain
By Alice Tripp
Deep in the forest, sits a log cabin, bare
If anyone sees it, they will not care
It was abandoned, up until now
Past all of the trees and weeds, branches and boughs.
An old woman walked through the forest with care, And discovered the cabin, still sitting there
She remembered the garden, and ducks in the pond, And forts that were built with sticks and a frond
And many a late night sitting out on the lawn, And the beautiful sunrise, come up at dawn, And the flowers in the meadow, not far from here, And the foxes and rabbits and the squirrels and the deer.
Day after day she came back to this place, She fixed up the house, and adorned it with lace, And when the wind comes and the air gets cold, She’ll stay in the cabin, with memories old.
By Charlotte Armstrong
The taste of chocolate so bittersweet
The soft sweet music drifts through the air
The sight of the tree always a treat
The feel of icy flakes if you dare
Even better yet the atmosphere
That jingling of bells, listen close Of that nostalgic holiday cheer
Together with the family time slows
And the twinkling lights upon the tree And the advent candles burning bright And Jesus so close to you and me Christmas is engulfed in fiery light
Best of all, the family together
Ready to face the coldest of weather
By Alexander Bair-Goeppner
Burning in the sun time to pack for school summer’s almost done blisters, burns, twists, turns roller coasters, theme parks, slides finally its time for dinner WAIT! Where are my sides? Running, hopping, sleeping, flopping it's August oh no that summer glow coming to an end
I have to say bye to my very best friend That slip of light goes away I wish summer would forever stay.
By Kelly Barret
The bleak night blurs into a plain dull black, It passes by as I stare into the darkness… Heavy drums and bass, they pulse through my head as the cries of rebellious teenagers echo through my headphones. My ears are filled with the creative chaos, But my mind is somewhere else. There’s a dull ache within me, My thoughts wander, “Will I ever be good enough? Will I ever be okay? Will I ever feel… better?”
The answer hits me… “No.”
A new wave of pain flows through me… I brush hair out of my blurred vision as I realize that I’m…
Crying?
Salty water spills down my face. I stare ahead of me into the night as I choke back more tears in hope that No one. Will notice…
By (Vic)Toria E. Brown
Ever since I was little, I had viewed the world somewhat differently from most. Somehow, others saw this about me and my brain, Their assumption of me being ‘normal’, now less than a ghost.
I remember trying to understand them, What they actually meant, What those words and their expressions were really saying, Those missing pieces to socializing, What I could never truly get.
It still takes me longer to know what something is about, Sometimes needing to be rephrased for me to know what to do. Some people thought I was extremely weird; Which, to begin with, is honestly just true.
Then, I finally got that last piece to it all, My diagnosis that year in 5th grade. I finally knew what was so different about me, What was so different about my unfinished-puzzle brain.
By Hana Butters
I keep a thousand secrets
Ranging from treasured notes
To unfinished projects
Secrets that are memories
Each one
Releases the comforting smell of flowers and a distinct smell that soothes harsh feelings
The scent of hair gel and sweat imbued with the florals of her job
A sweet smell I crawl into
This breath of fresh air unlocks memories
Memories of beautiful times
Every hug from grandma
Wrapped in her soft embrace
The scent lives in the fibers of her fabric
Her purple and blue shirts are forever stained
Stained with the compassion she poured into every vase
A scent as beautiful as the flowers she arranges
A scent I keep a secret
My grandma does not smell like flowers any more
But I hug her like she does
By Clara Callen
I went to Australia one time, The koalas were sleeping sometimes.
The kangaroos were soft like the blanket on my bed, My mom’s friend had a blanket, that was red.
I got a coin, it was worth a dollar, I was so excited I wanted to holler.
I went in winter when it was cold, I listened to a lot of stories that they told.
In Australia I made a friend, Her legs could really bend.
I liked the food a lot They cooked it in a pot.
Going to Australia was great, They called each other mate.
By Jay Cary
Her silky grey fur
Her emerald green eyes
The warmth she carries with her
Envelopes me
In times of blue
She knows just when I need her
A blanket over all my joy
Keeping out the cold of worry
A screen to keep out all the bugs
Mosquitoes carrying anxiety
But I feel the warmth slipping away
The covers have been ripped off Awake I run to see my love
To find that she is gone
Mosquitos swarm my barren skin
Imbedding all the pain they bring
There’s no one left to ease my worry
What the hell has happened?
She’s dead and gone
I hear repeating
A hole where her love used to be
I’m cold and scared and hurting
But no one here can free me…
Their silky white coats
Their emerald green gloves
The knowledge they claim to carry
Envelope me
In all their lies
Leave my loved ones DEAD And BURIED
By Isabel Casas
women’s haircut
forty dollars on the receipt forty different assumptions they make about me
who i love, who i hate who i don’t care about who i aspire to be and who i shut out
what i do, what i say what my future is like what i believe and what i’d share on a hot mic
well whoever can say whatever they’d like about me but i decide who i am and what’s on the floor is only a small piece of me
By Zariah Champlin
A memory is a funny word, Truthfully, it’s complicated. Though I suppose it can be both.
A memory. I must draw one up From the wild tangles of my mind, Amidst the algebra and lyrics and deadlines.
We were dancing in the road, Barefoot, singing, breathless To the stars. I knew This was the end of an era.
We were smiling But my heart was already shattering. I watched you dancing And wished I could live that freely again.
We are staring up at the stars at 2am. Shivering, but smiling, plucking raspberries And laughter from each other. This, I think, Is what true friendship is supposed to be.
A memory is a funny word, Honestly, it’s painful. Though, I suppose, it can be both.
By Reeya Chundury
Soft fur, white as snow
Messy from her many years She wasn’t quite the show I know, yes I know
But as her days grew short I dreaded her final blow I gave her my support Death was the last resort
A dog is a man’s best friend A saying I would not abort I would stay there until the end Her affection I would defend
How sorrowful I was that day I wanted her life to extend A cloud above me not white, but gray I hoped she would be okay
But I knew it was for the best Her senility was no horseplay Her presence was very blessed A piece of her love inside my chest
By Vanarra Clark-Baker
One day we were out on a walk, and I love to talk. I also like to wonder about. I brought my skateboard with And then I told my friend a myth. I was going up and down, rolling around the hill and it was time to turn around and not fall on the ground. Now I am so sweaty, and I just want to get in my bed-y. My mom wants me to shower and I hope I don’t have to wait for an hour.
By Ava Conner
I went to my grandpa and grandma’s house. We had a sleepover and slept on the couch.
My blanket was so fluffy. I brought my Olaf stuffy.
I got to pet their cute black dog. His name was Barker and we sat on a log.
We ate goulash… Yum! Yum! Yum! I jumped on the mattress and chewed some gum!
By Olivia Crawford
This summer we had a lot of fun, As we spent time playing in the sun.
One day we went to the swimming pool, And afterwards, we got ice cream that made me drool.
When we were swimming, someone ran like a flash, Leaping into the pool making a big splash.
Then there were many games we played, Not wanting to leave, hours we stayed.
Finally, it was time to leave Spending time at the pool is the best, I believe!
By Charlee Crouch
The dust of my decayed past collects around my calloused feet, a constant reminder, a clock that ticks, a record that spins, works, grinds, the murky, black overcast chimes in, an eclipse that covers a celestial sun, The mother who furnishes your roots, creates your individuality, the chamber no longer sees the dark, yet can close its eyes and recall the light’s beauty, a light, shining so bright, yet so dim. so old, yet so new.
A faint sense of nostalgia piercing through my darkened heart, my youthful eyes twinkling, the well-lit tree with family surrounding it, they finally smile in unison like never before, My past, which I strive to grasp, the temporary feeling begins to fade away, the clock begins to tick, the record begins to spin, the darkness taunting my fragile, pierced heart, I dream of being taken back, To be held by my sweet memories.
By Willa Davis
If I remembered being born, I’d be sad all day long. I had been all warm and cozy, Then something pushed me along.
If I remembered being born, I’d be mad all night long. It was all cold and new, and I didn’t feel very strong.
If I don’t remember being born, I’ll be glad all day and night!
By Loni Davis
I remember I was feeling blue.
That was until I met you.
Oh theatre, oh theatre
I love your precious ways.
Oh theatre, oh theatre
I’d dance with you for days.
Oh theatre, oh theatre
I love your vibrant glow.
Oh theatre, oh theatre
My heart, it overflows.
Oh theatre, oh theatre
I love the way you sing.
Oh theatre, oh theatre
What joy to me you bring.
Oh theatre, oh theatre
I love the time we spend.
Oh theatre, oh theatre
I love you till the end.
By Jaxton Dean
It’s always an adventure when Brody comes over, One time we even found a four-leaf clover!
The first time he came we didn’t have a cat, But outside in the back, we saw a flying bat.
Another time we got on the ATV, but it ran out of gas, So, then we decided to go fishing for bass.
Any activity, in any weather, We have fun, if we are together!
By Addilea DeBilzan
I love my aunt so very much. Sometimes in the summer I go to her apartment in Branson, Missouri. Sometimes we go to different places for lunch. I love my aunt so very much. I’m sad that we live so far apart.
By Chris Diaz
Waves crashing, Blue sky
Hours pass
Almost time to go
But I am the son of Poseidon I am And I will always wish to be.
I see it coming
Do I run or let it be?
There is no beat
No melody to follow
Whoosh
Water hits me
Slashing pain
Everything silent
Thrashing
Crying
Praying Flaying alive
Stinging and Ringing
I look to the sky
Still so blue I am still here
Pain washes away
Like the ocean
I know it’s over I laugh I rejoice
Did I win?
I have tried my hardest; my hardest was enough
I look back at the great blue and sky
And I was alive
Goodbye to the great blue
So beautiful
So harmless
I know the truth
I love it despite the threat
How could I not?
I am the son of Poseidon I am And I will always wish to be.
By Samantha Dodd
As is memory, I need to blow the dust off this image. Where the While Things Are.
My father in my grandfather’s weathered leather chair. The creak of the wood as I crawl to comfort in the crook of his lap. A pillow built into his shoulder for my head to rest.
The scent, Not musty, not sweet, But like early autumn and a blanket: Warmth. Home. A hearth.
The sun has already gone to sleep, And as to not wake her, We quietly point at the monsters on the pages, In awe and wonder,
A little bit of fear
That the creepy-crawlies Will catch me in my cradle. But that fear is assuaged By the steady timbre of my father. And so the lights dim, To the vibration Of his reading And, as is memory, Nostalgia tugs me To dreamless sleep.
By Aidan Dodson
There is nothing to rejoice
In for we are broken
And the death of my friends
Started with my demons
Then shattered into heathens
O... can’t you see it
The death of all my friends
Did it just begin?
I am racing in the night
Preparing for a fight
Don’t know where to start
Can’t see a way to win
And the death of all my friends
There was a time there before now
Where they were all with me
But when they saw the real thing
They were… destroyed
And I blame myself a million times
For the death of all my friends
Did it just begin?
I am racing in the night
Preparing for a fight
Don’t know where to start
Can’t see a way to win
And the death of all my friends
By Eden Doke
Fishing above the water is so much fun, Especially when there is a brightly shining sun.
One time while we were camping, I caught a large pike, I wanted to tell my friend, Mark, so I jumped on my bike.
He came back to the fishing spot and helped me clean the fish Later at supper, that pike made a yummy dish.
By Madison Dornbusch
I wish I could go back in time. To the memories from years ago. When I felt joy but not jealousy, Enjoyment but not embarrassment.
I want to tell my little self to slow down, Tell her things I regret now. Things like saying "I want to grow up".
I wish I could see the memories but they're covered. Covered by a dark storm of teenage emotions. If only I could stop the clock, And find the joy under the storm.
The joy of laughter and smiles. Memories of me listening to bedtime stories, Running around the neighborhood, And blowing out candles on my birthday.
I miss the days when I was free and happy. Days I wish I could have today, When emotions do not cover them. The memories from years ago. The memories I want to go back in time to.
By Zoe Eberspacher
dipping, diving, soaring, flying moving, driving, say goodbye-ing They fly above me people say they love me dragonflies fly away everyone goes away
new house, new yard new people, old car dragonflies dance above me again takes me back to “way back when” still young, still good still do what I should new house, new yard new people, old car dragonflies dance above me again takes me back to “way back when” older now, and I still can’t see dragonflies aren’t dancing for me
new house, new yard new people, old car dragonflies dance above me again takes me back to “way back when” Now, in the present, I finally see the dragonflies aren’t dancing for me
now every time there’s a new house, new yard new people, old car I see dragonflies dance above graceful as mourning doves but I know now I know they don’t dance for me
By Natalee Ganoe
What a beautiful day!
Oh, the fountains are flowing, the birds are chirping, ants are crawling through the grass...
I bloom everywhere anytime I want!
I can watch as people walk through the national parks, holding hands with their newfound lovers. I can watch as people head through the bustling streets!
The sky is as blue as Neptune! Oh, how I wish it would rain diamonds on Earth the same as Neptune... Oh..
I wish I could experience the beauty of life the same as humans... As animals...
But!
I also see people getting hurt, getting sick...
I see children fall off their bikes as they try and learn how to ride one, Or scrape their knees tripping over a rock, Or even watch children steal from others, making them cry!
I watch as adults break up with their love, I watch as adults cry over not getting job, I watch as adults grow old, and lose who they love most.
I’m sure it would be beautiful. Hunting for food, decorating the shops for the holidays, Experiencing first and final love. It would be breathtaking! it would be gorgeous! It would be pleasing! It would be delightful...
The feeling of holding another person’s body close, loving each other fully, Having children, Growing old.
But oh! There are so many things that could go wrong! You could get sick! You could be heartbroken! You could get into an accident! You could lose in a contest! You could die.
But that’s a part of living. Growing old, Getting sick, Becoming heart broken, Losing, Dying.
Maybe that’s the beauty too.
Experiencing Life. Experiencing Death.
Maybe it’s okay being fungi, and maybe it’s okay being an animal. That’s a part of life. The ecosystem. The tactics. The winning, The losing...
That's the concept of life.
By Gabriella Garcia
In our world full of peace
There will always be pain and torcher
All of us have, and the fire and flames of what I once called home
Fire covering the trees and grass
Glass breaking while screaming wails through the house
Crying and hoping that he will make it out alive
Even praying for hope.
When I heard, my legs gave out
Not even crying, thinking if my dad is ok
Knowing that right now its a horrible place I get up and run
I run, run and run to anywhere safe that's no where near school
Trebling of fear I run, run, run then I see my papa
He takes me to my dad…
My dad smells like nearly escaping death…
I felt like I could have lost my dad that day
And yet I almost
By Ameiah George
Look in the mirror, wash me face,but I see a small girl with a smile on her face.she sits on the sink to see herself brush her teeth.That small girl kinda looks just like me.The steam rises from the sink; she has to stop and hear here self think because she has a dream in her eyes,just like me wondering what she’s meant to be. Is she me from the past or me in my dreams? A reflection of what life seems looking in the mirror as I wash my face,I see that small girl fine in her place. Yes that small girl looks just like me take a step back breath in deep. Yes that small girl is definitely me. One day she will grow, wash her face see a small girl within her place. She will greet her reflection with a smile on her face knowing that small girl is fine in her place.
By Avery Glaza
She stands tall and proud.
One hand carries freedom while the other guides those seeking it.
Our lady shouts a message of liberty and takes in the refugees of corruption and despair.
The heavy tablet she bolsters is the message, while the torch she wields in this dark world is the invitation.
Her whole life, she stands as an entrance, where she gives up her freedom so that those entering may experience the great American dream.
But, she is not exempt from the darkness.
Her presence serves only as a memory of what was. If nothing changes, she will fade away, leaving only a shell of hopelessness.
She stands tall as the tablet gets lighter and her torch darker.
By Diana Gomez
You’ve always sat with me when you could have run. The day someone didn’t get to say goodbye, you held my hand tighter. Through the clouds peeked the meager sun, but I know your hands and their every fiber.
Alone in a classroom, we sat on the floor. A box of Toast-Yay’s! offered its support. You cried quieter than you have before; the saddest frown I didn’t know you could contort.
That afternoon we found solace in games of four-square. Each daughter was a different kind of torn; one cleaned until the floor shone enough to glare. Tears fell long after our eyes were worn.
In a letter, she shared words from her father, “Who will stand with you in the rain when they have the chance to be dry?”
To you, who would dance with me in the rain without bother, I hope I never have to say goodbye.
By Isabella Green
Changing of the seasons
Changing sense of self
Trees shed leaves quicker
Empathetic for the tears clear like liquor
Your new home is so close
But a phone call never seemed so far away
Swaying branches stay open to welcome
Me in their new home
Changing of the seasons
Changing sense of self
Trees shed leaves quicker
Empathetic for the tears, clear like liquor
Turn back time, tell me to stay
And I will, wouldn’t want to move anyways
Wouldn’t want to ruin the picture perfect
Relationship we once had
Tell me dad, do you dare to think we could go back
To me being four, during fall, jumping through your piles
Of leaves
Changing of the seasons
Changing sense of self
Trees shed leaves quicker
Empathetic for the tears, clear like liquor
While your heart condition gets sicker
Come with me, turn back time, where leaves were real kickers
By Lynlee Heneger
Our family got two dogs, Those dogs like to go for daily jogs.
Sometimes one of them likes to pick a fight, When he does that, he will usually bite.
Our dogs like to be fed, Their crate is their bed.
They really like to dig in the dirt. I am hopeful they will never get hurt.
Our dogs are so much fun, My family loves them a ton!
By Russell Hicks
Our football game day had finally come, But the events added up to the wrong sum.
It started well as I caught my first TD catch, My excited dance moves, no one could match.
Then I was on defensive, guarding Nick, I surprised myself and got a pick!
You are probably wondering what went wrong, Things went worse as the game went along.
It was towards the end of the game, that I missed a catch and got mad, Unfortunately, we lost the game, and then we were all sad.
By Harmony Hittner
Joy doesn’t walk it flies.
Sometimes right into you when you least expect it.
Like laughing too hard with friends who just get you. Or seeing the sky streaked pink like it used a highlighter.
Joy is sneaky like that. It hides in ordinary moments, then bursts out like confetti in your chest.
When it hits You feel lighter, like your heart suddenly remembered how to fly.
And even if it fades, you know it’ll come back, because joy has wings and it always finds you again.
.
By Ruby Hobza
As I stare, wondering what went wrong
You still, cold
Maybe more is what I was looking for
My eyes wandered, looking for a door
A cold envelops the room, seeming like some kind of inescapable doom
Somehow I knew, this was it
The light that you would always emit,
Gone
Even as I blame myself,
I still look over at my shelf
A picture sits, one of you two
One that I watch, thinking of you
Oh how I feel blue
One I wish you knew
Your fur to the wind
No memories to begin
Even as I lay awake, accepting your fate
I wait
You stay over the bridge of watercolor
Following one another
I know, but I try to deny
In the end, I still say goodbye
By Emmy Howell
As I wander and roam the halls of my mind
There’s something quite strange that catches my eye
A little door, all dusty and old I feel a breeze, all strange and cold Curiosity takes me, and I open the passage
A flood of memories takes me hostage. I walk down the hall, to a time when I Had a crystal clear view of the earth and sky
A moment in life when my head was free
I had no worries; life - an olive tree.
A thought starts to form, an inspiration for tomorrow When these visions take me breathless; my mind left fallow I stop my contemplation, set to lose this precious chance And am about to forget, but before that I catch
A glimpse of the future, of what it could be
A world of peace, of tranquility.
By Charlotte Karre
Kindness is our guide to our true pride
It blooms more flowers and opens more doors
Giving us room to explore
If you fall down just look right up
For kindness is waiting and asks whats up
If you take its helping hand
You will find a better land
Where dreams are sweet and everything is neat
It helps you and you pass it on
If you don’t kindness will be gone
But don’t worry not for long
People always get it back
From a helping hand to picking up a dropped sack
If you see kindness is gone
Just think not for long
You are now kindness
You spread it through the land
Warmth and comfort just ahead
You may now go to bed
For you have completed your part
You've proved you have a heart
You will bring what feels like spring
It is warm but not to hot
You have found a perfect spot
Go at a pace like a race
No need to slow down
Just spread kindness through the town
Why ever stop for you will drop
Back into the darkness of bad
Don’t be sad
Just come right up
Whats up
I am kindness you looked up to me
I bloom more flowers and open more doors
Why don’t you come and explore
I have already brought you to shore
You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink
I will give you time to think
By Adrishya Kumar
The coast let me go without asking if I was ready. Salt air clinging to my sweatshirt, sunlight folded into the hem of my jeans.
In Nebraska, the sky opens wide and waits patient, endless, asking what I will make of it.
But even the quiet has a pulse if I stand still long enough.
Last night, our backyard lit up with fireflies, and for a moment, the grief dimmed.
Maybe healing looks like learning to belong, making new memories, without needing to ask permission.
Maybe I didn’t leave everything behind. Maybe California is still in me, somewhere.
A tide that pulls, but no longer drowns.
And maybe I like my new home. In the hush of snowfall, the rhythm of changing seasons. The quiet buzz of golden lights floating through the hydrangeas outside. Somewhere between humidity and snowfall, memory has begun to sound like home.
By Alexander Langie
One day after I moved into my new home, I was walking down the street, I met up with someone named Peter, who said I could just call him Pete.
We then walked and talked for a little while, It came time to return home, so I left him with a smile.
A couple days later I decided to go play at the park, People were there and a dog who loved to bark.
I walked over to pet the dog and talk, Two boys said, “Aren’t you the boy who went with Pete on a walk?”
I said yes and introduced myself, then they told me their names, They invited me to hang out and play many games.
Having Pete, Herbie, and Wagon in my life, I have to say, Has changed my life as I try to hang out with them every day!
By Iris Lee
That day, you looked up, and all you could see was an orange sky and a memory.
You sat under the oak tree — the same one you’d climb as a little kid.
You saw calmness, but also chaos — chaos like you as a child.
The clouds fight the wind, The blue sky bleeds orange. It shows simple joy, but also those days you wanted to scream, when words felt trapped in your throat, forcing their way out.
It shows weakness, but also strength. Its quietness is precious, yet it pounds in your chest.
That orange sky makes you feel the world is on your side — but underneath, there could be a trap.
You try to stay calm, take your rehearsed breaths, but they pull you deeper, as you scream for help.
Maybe the scream will sound light — like a feather falling from a tree.
You’ll always remember that memory.
By Demi Lindsey
Here comes the pool day, I need to put on some spray.
We’re going to have some yummy food, Hamburgers put me in a really good mood.
I am so ready for all the fun, And I hope the day is never done.
I love spending time with my family, There’s no other place that I would rather be.
By Malasia Lipkin
My Mom picked me up from school when I was six. She took me to the hospital to see my Great Grandma, who was sick.
It was dark, it felt scary, we waited and waited The floors were shiny like ice, so we play skated.
Grandma was shaking and she had machines to help her sleep I could hear the machines, they went beep, beep, beep.
Grandma had a dream that my uncle talked to her from heaven He said “Come here, it is lovely but it was almost seven.
I think grandma went to see my uncle when she died But I cried and cried.
My brother doesn’t remember her, that’s too bad. But I still think of her and I feel sad.
By Charlize Marinovic
Tomorrow,
Everything will remain the same, I felt it coming long before it came.
I take a moment to remember all the times we had, The star-gazing on Fourth of July nights, Fireflies scattered endlessly in the sky like flashing lights, I hold tight to the memories we shared, Even the ones that left me scared.
I’ll close my eyes, I’ll walk back in time, Even in a world that moves only clockwise.
I’ll think of tomorrow as only a word, For memories will guide me as tomorrow arrives.
This isn’t the end–These memories won’t bend–This is only a temporary goodbye.
By Olivia Merchant
I know what hides Behind the red curtain They watch, they wait I know what to do I know what to play Yet still I hold Still I wait Brass in hand and song in head Gold or silver Both will play Beyond the curtain
On that stage
By Meadow Moore
I was so excited one day, When my mom said she was here to stay!
It was a dog named Bella, who liked to run, She was a loyal puppy who wanted to have fun!
I love when she smiles at me, It makes be happy as can be!
By Veronica Nester
At first, memories came in my recollection of events.
Smells of autumn, crunching leaves
But I don’t remember her name
And then, memories come in waves of emotion.
Strong feelings I can’t place my finger on when I enter a room
But again, I don’t know why I think of her
Another wave of feelings I can’t remember
Saying nonsense that could vaguely describe something, because I can’t think of it myself
But I know she would have thought of it with me
And at last, just giving up.
Spilling my guts out for no reason because it’s the only way I can bring up my memories
But I know that no one’s listening, because why would they care for a faded memory?
By Stephany Orellana-Gomez
You found me alone once, Surrounded by memories I had to bury. Some of them, you taught me about love. Most of them, I couldn’t stop running.
You tightly, tenderly held my hand, When the entire world was against us. Hurtful words; they knew what they meant. In the storm, your face is still all I know.
Is pain truly unfair?
Or only the chosen ones have such honor? My affliction left traces of despair, And a life I could only long for.
Through the weariness and torment, You were always there.
The lonelier and more wounded I felt, The more the struggle’s echo now says.
The savior of my childhood. You are everything I ever owned and had. I still recognize you, so close to my adulthood. Allow me by your side, always stand.
By Sawyer Osborn
It was the fourth of May Time for my seventh birthday,
All of my friends came with joy, I hoped to get lots of toys,
My friends Lily and Brylee came, They said “Happy Birthday” together, the same.
I can see my friend Briana, Tayleigh said “Happy Birthday Banana”…
“Why are you nervous” I said, “I’m nervous for a purpose”
I heard my dog barking in a loud way I petted her until it was time to sing Happy Birthday
Now I see the cake It took Mom so long to bake.
All the people sang “Happy Birthday” to me, It was an awesome thing to see!
By Chris Otto
"Herald of the highway, come down my way, bless the broken body on the railroad tracks."
I'm breathing like I might say something more profound, hey sanity is stardust slipping through the cracks, like
"Herald of the highway, turnpike, I pray, alters at the curbside piled up in stacks."
Keeling over, sky seams, bleeding at the high beams, feeling like I might scream, speeding straight to black.
By Tayleigh Parsons
I went outside and I saw raccoons at night And I had a fright
One ran up to me and I stood still on the ground, I mean I stood like a statue and it made a grumpy sound.
I remembered to back away slowly, But when I did it made an even grumpier sound, totally!
I tried it again and it growled at me, I was so scared, but then his friends ran away to be free,
I said “Thank goodness” and I was relieved But then I noticed I was deceived
That mean raccoon tried to attack me, And I had to jump into a tree
It tried to get my feet then it ran away I got down safely and I ran the other way
By Spencer Pein
My grandma was very kind. She was the nicest person I could find.
She let me cook with her, It smelled very good and I got to stir
We had a delicious meal… She also taught me how to do a cartwheel
When I was 3 or 4, my grandma died, It was sad, I have to move on, but I cried and cried, Me and my family were sad. We went down stairs and felt bad.
I am always thinking about her a bunch, We miss her so much!
I miss her cooking, a lot Cause it was fun cooking in her great big pot.
Instead of thinking about the bad stuff, I think about the fun when it gets tough.
By Ainsley Powell
Crashing
Like the waves on the shore
Bringing triumph or dread
Coming back more and more
Some call it crazy
The way I can recall
The memories that come back
Winter Spring Summer Fall
Whether a song, a dream, a moment
My memories deserve such great bestowment
The way they make me jump for joy
Or cry a river deep
My memories are sometimes shy
barely make a peep
Some call it crazy
The way I can tell
Where the memories come from
Ringing like a bell
Flowing through my mind
With such poise and grace
When I feel one coming
My mind can’t help but race
Like a cheery hello
Or a muted goodbye
Some call it crazy
The way I can reply
To the memories I feel
All night, all day
Crashing
Like the waves on the shore
My memories stay Now and forevermore
By Elena Powers
The smell of flowers faint in the air passed from Grandmother flower to her heir. The leaves are full of color and that makes me wonder about the tiny seed and the green ancestors. Generations before these trees, Generations after the tiny seed, and the memories of Nature go on in you and me.
By Johan Pradheep
Think of a tree’s story and how it came up from a seed. Of how it survived the ups and downs, the joys and sorrows of reality.
If so you’ll find hidden deep in each and every leaf A story, a memory of how it came to be.
You may wonder how did it grow Or what did it see, And what had it felt inside? Where you’ll find the answers Are in its gleaming, windblown, leaves, a tree's memory.
And will it be lost? Or will it succeed? Find its strength in life and hold in the breeze. Or will it come to an utter demise but help give rise to another tree.
There are many great answers to the questions and wonders you seek happily. And look back at bygone memories and you will complete a tree’s story.
By Averly Rakestraw
Memories, memories, memories
There are a bunch of memories in my head. My favorite is my sister’s graduation. We played corn hole and ate yummy foods like burritos and gator. There were a lot of people. Like my grandma, Pa, Aunika, and Kylee. It was so fun, that’s why it’s my favorite memory. So far…
By Patrick Rawson
There was a young boy, who was filled with joy, When playing with a football, as it was his favorite toy.
The boy gets hit, but he has no fear. His favorite part is listening to the crowd cheer.
By Ollie Riggins
My father taught me I was different at seven. In that moment, I saw my mind As a felon, like a poison that Could weaken every person.
He said I was too receptive, That the world was mean and I Wouldn’t be able to be an effective Member of society
I wasn’t defensive I was defective
He was assertive, But it felt aggressive
I was held captive in my own Prison
Maybe I was the one behind the bars, Sentenced before I knew the charges.
Learning to shrink Before I was taught to grow
By Audrey Sadler
It's not fair how the world keeps spinning.
My backpack feels a little too heavy for my shoulders, Not with books, but with memories of us.
Like the time we biked down the big hill too fast, and our knees got scraped up on the sidewalk.
I'll still see that scar for a long, long time.
My phone screen glows with your contact, But the messages get shorter, the calls less often. You're making new jokes now, with a new crew.
I see the photos of your new life, and it feels like I'm watching a movie I'm not in.
I'm glad you're okay. I think.
My bedroom still has the posters we put up crooked. I see that crooked edge and I remember you, and I want to fix it but I can't.
It's just me now, and the posters are still crooked. They say "see you later" and "call me."
But everyone knows that "later" is a lie.
That new town is a new whole world, and I'm stuck here in the old one, walking past your empty house and the empty space where you used to be. I miss you more than yesterday.
By Sam Sahs
The day we got our swimming pool was joyous and getting in felt so good, We got pool toys and discovered that Jax and Caden couldn’t swim—but I could!
Every day I was in the pool, I practiced swimming and learning how to float, Sometimes as I Iaid there floating, it felt like I was swaying on a boat.
The day came that made me sad, as we had to return to school, Our time is now limited, but every chance we get, I jump into the pool.
By Britta Skiermont
Sometimes memories are painful
Like the feeling of knowing that you will not always be young
Because someday you won’t remember your first grade teacher's name
Because someday you won’t remember what long summer days outside with the golden Sunshine and the wind in your knotted hair but not caring, because who was there to care, feels like
Because someday you won’t remember the feeling of seeing a crush in the hallways, and your heart expanding and beating like you’re being chased
Because someday you will not remember the birthday when you got the useless toy you wanted
Because someday you won’t remember the pinky promise you made in kindergarten
Because someday you will not remember the feeling of being un-wrinkled and free and careless and wild and dumb and excited and scared and hopeless and hopeful at the same time.
By Marie Sobczyk
She’s my friend, I got her back. Sometimes we fight, sometimes we don’t. Sometimes we giggle, sometimes we laugh But no matter what, our friendship grows fast! When I met her, I felt a blast. Right from the start, I knew it would last. I told her, “Let’s be friends!”
Now I see the world through a whole new lens.
By Am’Agyn Spencer
Off the wake-up, open my eyes and start seeking some clarity.
A never-ending search for ‘someone like me’
I guess I’m rich in rarity
No doubt, I have everything a girl could ever want
Starting to feel like I’m just my mom in a different font
What could I possibly be longing for?
My life’s one big blissful whirlwind-wind of whirl- feel like I’m just a very lucky broken girl
Will somebody come hold me? It’s gon’ be a long cold December.
I can’t forgive him ‘cause he made me forget-then he made me remember.
Who to please? God or me? I know the answer seems obvious-but everything ain’t what it seem.
If it weren’t for my mom? Who would I be?
If I had time with my dad? Would I have more security? serenity? Something to ground me and surrender me?
Who to be? What to choose? In return, will I gain for what I lose?
Lie down and close my eyes, say my prayers, pray to God for some clarity.
Why’s nobody tell you you can yearn to such severity?
By Margot Stevenson
There’s always a way to hurt
Memories are always the worst way to hurt
Being an adopted child does not make things any easier
As a child, I was happy and genuinely a ray of sunshine
I was bright, but shadows drowned me
They changed my ray of sun to a dark sadness
From the confusion and neglect from my grandma
To the pain and trauma of dealing with foster siblings
All these painful memories hurt
My heart aches as the moments flash before my eyes
Every word, every movement, every person
All details flash before me
My grandma yelling at me for playing with my cousin
The words that left her mouth
“You’ll eat last”
The yelling between my foster siblings
The struggles to adjust to new people
My constant question; “Why?”
Truthfully, everything brought pain, even loving memories
Which left me quiet; emotionless
By Rainbow Sturdivant-Wilson
Memories are a mosaic of our lives
Made of emotional things in our lives
Like moments in time
Or a place in time we love dearly
Reminding us about people and things we love
Yourself as a young person is an example
Including when you played on the playground you loved Enthusiastic memories in our lives are so dearly ours
So memories are things we love so dearly and we know them one by one.
By Faith Tanner
Through the lens I see one thing
A couch with an old man on it “Hello,” I said He smiled at me He looks very kind
He has a pack of cigarettes in his front pocket He seems to be listening to music I can’t quite hear it He has a hat on A G on the front of it He seems to be in his 70’s Am I dead?
The white haze is heavy. My eyes droop the slightest I sit on the couch beside him He hands me a peppermint? It’s not a candy cane Its just a stick
I taste it the lemon flavor fills my mouth its soft easy to chew The jumble of my memories fade going back to separate Be their own Not something I hope happens
By Easton Tinnell
all the memories where strangers become friends friends become brothers soon enough all the memories hit you, last call last hang out last sleep over last everything we don't talk much but yet I count all the memories look through all the days remember all the laughs when I'm gone remember me not with sorrow not with tears but with a smile, all the laughs together, all the days we annoyed our parents to hang out. even if life takes us through different paths, i will still hold every moment we have had together long nights dumb jokes
The times we wished we stayed little forever little did we know those would be the stories we tell our kids some day and during the tuff times think of me not as someone that left you but someone who was lucky to grow up with someone like you.
By Evelyn Urban
The North Star was made by God for those who have lost their ways.
I myself look towards my own star; my family
Note: follow your star no matter where or who you are
By Greta Urban
One time I was flying to Maui but I felt home sick so I asked my dad if I could look at a picture of my cat on his phone
After I arrived and couple days later there was a tsunami wave we had to sleep in the airport
I felt sad I wanted to leave that night because of the tsunami something made me feel better my mom gave me a hug
After the tsunami the airport was late to take me home again
My dog was sad that we had left
By Milly Waldron
My Papa had surgery; he was kinda sick He had heart surgery, we hurried to the hospital quick.
My grandma called my mom and my mom cried, Because of my papa, my grandma sighed.
At the hospital, I heard talking As I was walking,
There was a couch and a chair, They looked hard, but I didn’t care, He was OK, Papa was sitting on the chair.
By Ruthie Wallace
Would life be the same without dreams? We think about them, And they teach us lessons. So could we live without the sweet world of dreams?
A sweet world, I could think, I could write, I could bring all my friends. But what I really want to do, In this sweet, sweet world, Is dream of anything, Here, in this sweet, sweet world. Sweet it is, and sweet it will stay, I will always cherish this Sweet, sweet world, Of dreams. So i’ll tell you straight, We need dreams.
By Edie Walter
Memory is like water an ocean in your mind, you know its a memory because no two waves are alike. You can never see the same wave twice.
Some float steadily, Like your mother singing you to sleep, Or your dad trying his best to make you smile through all the storms of his own sea.
But what happens when the waves get too strong for me, When my mind turns into a tsunami and I can't control the tide? Will those small waves stay with me, Will my storm swallow them whole along with myself?
How do I turn the current from downstream to upstream? When everyone around me keeps throwing rocks into the water Of my bottomless void?
But maybe that's what memory is Not control, but current. Maybe all I can do is learn to swim and float to wherever my little ocean mind takes me.
By Oakley Wemhoff
A small memory like a picture
In the back of my mind, growing
One moment, I longed for Yet, that singular moment never came
One instant, I dreamed of
Yet, not one singular instant, at least, but ever so gradually
One look back, and it formed so much
I’m now grateful
These moments are so important to memories
So much so, they:
Formed storylines
Formed moments that clicked
A coherent chapter
Formed so much that I couldn’t have imagined it in the beginning
I’m now grateful
We learn so much now
To follow our creator’s plan
He has a path
A perfect ending
He needs our trust
A light at the end of the dark tunnel
He needs us to remember that we will look back and laugh
A gratefulness overcomes me in the end
These moments grew my faith so much, even if it was tested
I’m now grateful
By Emerson Widener
I’m an awful swimmer.
I try my best not to reminiscence
And try to distract myself when those thoughts float to the surface
Ignore those emotions swirling around in my head
But some days I find myself standing alone
At the edge of the water
And I slowly enter that foreboding pool.
I start in the shallow end
Just reminding myself of the basic steps
How I taught myself to heal
How I taught myself to forget
But then a wave throws me back
Shoves me down into the deep end
I hit the tile floor
Sharp, cold stabs slice into my head
Just like how I hit the concrete
Even with the water stabilizing my body,
I’m terrified of my skull cracking open
This cannot happen to me again!
And it’s not.
I drown in my memories
Before I break through the water’s surface.
I’m finally learning to swim.
By Piper Wissler
After celebrating my 7th birthday I came back from my Dad’s house that day
Mom said, “Piper, we have bad news, Kyle Died” I started to cry and I cried and I cried
I wanted to tell my friend right away But I could not, because I can’t say.
When we got home, I ate spaghetti, it smelled so good, I ate as much as I could.
Then I went to bed, I saw my stuffy, Kyle My dog’s name was also Kyle, so I was so wild
I miss my dog, I see him in my dreams, I also hear him in my dreams, that’s how it seems
Opera Omaha is a growth-minded, high energy, and innovative company with a demanding mission: producing opera performances in multiple formats and styles and co-creating artist-led programs for a variety of community service organizations. We believe the power of opera is transformational, and as a result supports the creation of an inventive, creative, empathetic, and inclusive community that inspires joy, self-discovery, kinder discourse, and opportunity for all.
Visit operaomaha.org for more information.
Founded in 2008, the Nebraska Writers Collective (NWC) is an Omaha-based 501(c)3 non-profit organization that fosters self-empowerment and community-building through creative writing and performance poetry. The NWC facilitates interactive workshop-based programming throughout the Midwest at schools, businesses, and correctional facilities, and provides paying work for more than 50 local writers and poets each year. The NWC helped identify the theme and created prompts for the Poetry & Music Project, and NWC Teaching Artists designed and facilitated poetry workshops for over 200 middle and high school students across Nebraska.
Visit newriters.org for more information.
American Opera Projects mission is to develop and present new and innovative works of lyric theater, provide a creative home to emerging and established artists, and engage contemporary communities in a transformative operatic experience. AOP has been at the forefront of the contemporary opera movement for over thirty years through the commissioning, developing, and producing of opera and music-theatre projects, training programs for student and emerging composers and librettists, and community engagement. AOP helped identify Poetry & Music Project composer Sidney Marquez Boquiren who is an alumnus of AOP’s Composers & the Voice opera writing fellowship program.
Visit aopopera.org for more information.
The views expressed in this program do not necessarily reflect the view of Humanities Nebraska or the Nebraska Cultural Endowment.
Andersen Middle School
Bellevue West High School
Benson High School
Brownell Talbot School
Carl A. Swanson Elementary School
Crete High School
Duchesne Academy
Fremont Middle School
Fullerton High School
Grand Island High School
Gretna East Highschool
Hayward Elementary
Honey Creek Homeschool
Inicio Academy Homeschool
Jesuit Academy
Kiewit Middle School
La Vista Middle School
Lewis & Clark Middle School (Omaha)
Lewis & Clark Middle School (Bellevue)
Liberty Middle School
Lincoln East High School
Lincoln High School
Logan Middle School
Meridian Public Schools
Millard North High School
Millard West High School
Mission Middle School
Norfolk Senior High School
Northside Elementary NCPS
Palmer Public School
Papillion Middle School
Platteview High School
Plattsmouth Middle School
Rumsey Station Elementary School
Sarpy County Juvenile Justice Center
University of Nebraska High School
Wahoo Public High School
Washington Elementary
Wayfinder Academy
Weeping Water Public School
Westside Middle School
This year, Opera Omaha's Holland Community Opera Fellows each selected a poem from the Poetry & Music Project submissions to use as inspiration for an original piece of visual art. Fellows were struck by the creativity, detailed imagery, and brilliant storytelling of the young poets. Photos of each art piece are featured inside the front and back covers of this book, along with the artist statements below, which can also be found at operaomaha.org/poetry.
Wherever it Takes Me by Aiden James Poling acrylic and joint compound on canvas, 2026
This piece was inspired by “Little Ocean Mind” by Edie Walter (page 90). When I first read the poet’s words, I was drawn in by their strong use of imagery connecting memories to bodies of water. Ponds are calm and still until you toss in a pebble and see every ripple. You can float like a daydream down a lazy river. But the powerful depths of the oceans, while teeming with life, are full of unknowns. The poet asks: “What happens when the waves get too strong for me?” and I hoped to echo that in this painting—not just the feelings of vastness and uncertainty, but staying brave despite it.
What Was and What Is by Abz Cameron watercolor, ink, and oil pastel, 2026
Lying on the ground and looking up, watching the branches overlap and stretch in every direction, I thought about how life works the same way. Taking inspiration from “A Tree’s Story” by Johan Pradheep (page 73), I used layered color and inked lines to reflect how people, places, and memories build and shape who we are. Long before us, nature was already here. Growing, enduring, starting over, an infinite cycle. Each tree begins small, then grows. Each one shaped by wind, heat, and everything that passes through or takes shelter beneath it. Each one holds a story.
Light Keeper by Chloe Janae Gormley
denim, 2026
I often think of individuals as weavings of all the events, people, and places that they have passed through. “New Memories” by Adrishya Kumar (page 57) felt like an unraveling. This unraveling was slow and steady, and illuminated our writer’s experiences. In the line “sunlight folded into the hem of my jeans”, we see part of the thread that makes up our writer. This California sunlight is folded into the hem of their being. This was a line I would often go back to in the process of making the artwork. We are vessels of all the light we have ever seen or felt.
Neptune Embrace by Tobias J. Garcia
acrylic paint, cardboard, and spray foam, 2026
Inspired by the poem, “Ocean Blue” by Chris Diaz (page 38), this piece explores the depths of the ocean through a color study of different shades of blue. The textures of foam emulate stones, sea foam, bubbles, and waves. Using set building techniques, I combine art and performance through its form. Embodied in it is a feeling of being surrounded by water in all directions.
To learn more about the Holland Community Opera Fellowship, visit operaomaha.org/hcof.
