By Edy Savage
It feels like,
Billowing around you,
Resting on your nose,
Covering your arms and legs and neck in goosebumps,
Your gaze lifted,
Eyes closed against the flurries,
It feels like,
Running your fingers through thick, soft hair,
Thick with harmony,
A constellation of flat fifths and minor sevenths,
Unbraiding a braid,
Noted twisted together into chords,
Rhythm pulsing through your hand,
Through your fingers,
It feels like flying.
Leaping off your feet and soaring,
Closing your eyes and feeling the wind on your face.
The air, a melody,
Open your mouth and let it in,
Open your eyes and let it in,
Through your skin,
The beat, your heart,
The beat, a kick drum,
Folding the space around you and picking you up and throwing you into the sky,
Weightless and elated.
And you open your eyes,
And time stops,
Your heart stops,
Your breath stops,
Frozen in the snow,
In the sky,
Your hands in the hair of the music,
Hovering over keys,
Resting against strings,
curled around sticks,
Woven into the strands of melody.
One second of frozen time,
Syncopated between beats,
An inhale held in your lungs,
A smile on your lips,
One second that lasts forever,
That is over before you know it was there,
And you are left in a world of nothing but the ecstasy of the rhythm.
Edy Savage (they) is a junior at PVPA. They love dancing, reading, writing, and especially playing music.
By Ellery Merand
Cheeto stared out of the bars that kept her locked in her cage. The only thing that kept her from trying harder to escape was the sassy dog that she knew was waiting, just out of sight, to chase her around the house as soon as she got free.
She walked over to her little hammock, grabbing a piece of carrot on the way, and hung there, nibbling at it. She was thinking about her last escape attempt, when, at last, she had gotten out of her cage and across the floor, only to be grabbed by the cold hands of injustice, and locked back up in her prison of steel bars and Timothy hay.
Just then, she heard the patter of dull claws on hardwood floors, the jingle of collar tags, and the loud barking that the neighbors complained about so often. This could only be one thing; the dog.
Ellery Merand (she/her) is a 12-year-old homeschooler who lives in Easthampton MA. In her free time she enjoys animating, hiking, playing with her dog, & generally being a weirdo.
By Katy McGinnis
Let there be more kids who wander.
Let them wander here.
Let them sit under this tangled tree.
May more kids get to look into Rosie’s eyes,
and pet her loving body. Happiness at its purest.
May their eyes close, entranced by the rocking of a Houseboat.
A Houseboat who has seen nothing quite like them in all of its years of service.
Let there be more friendships born.
More inside jokes created.
Let differences and similarities once again blend into an invisible string.
Let it be reinforced as lives once again merge on a fateful Monday.
Although the string may weather,
Let it stand the Test of Time.
Let sighs of frustration and pens upon paper wander here.
balancing on the brink of youth and truth,
once again join.
Let them day after day,
summer after summer,
year after year,
return to where more than more than words are woven.
May their artistic voices be woven into existence here.
Thread by thread, story by story, and letter by letter.
Katy McGinnis lives in New Salem, and is a rising 9th grader at Ralph C. Mahar Regional School. She enjoys dancing, music, field hockey, softball, and of course, writing. She loves writing because it is a snapshot of herself at a point in time, that she can then reflect on.
By Leah Mendelsohn
This is a forever ache in my lungs,
the way you speak in your own tongue
will be ingrained on my own.
When you slip into my everyday words,
now I will never be completely alone.
Now I will never dot my i’s and tie my shoes,
and only like purple in the lightest hue.
How can I escape you when I still remember
your head on my chest,
But now it’s too heavy to breathe.
And I’ve confessed and kept it in an envelope
with no one addressed.
Leah Mendelsohn is 14 years old and attends Amherst Regional High School. One thing she loves about Woven Word is the community of people, “Anytime I share I feel people listen and give very thoughtful comments.”
By Elizabeth Rotunno
Science has taught me that bubbles are the best way to blind someone.
World History has taught me that premeditated murder is easier than you'd think.
English has taught me that a pool noodle and a ramen noodle
are equally precious on a deserted island.
French has taught me that slapping people
is more effective when wearing a ring.
Lunch has taught me that yanking someone's ear
is an efficient distraction to steal something from their hands.
Civics has taught me nothing but how to swaddle a baby.
Math has taught me various methods of thievery.
Band has taught me the best ways to exact revenge,
most involving oobleck and wind instruments.
Computer Science has taught me how to endure all manner of
unknown substances that may have fallen on the keys of a keyboard.
Health has taught me more about Chess than anything else.
Advisory has taught me that all good business occurs in Singapore.
Saying school doesn't teach you anything is like saying robbery
isn't a marketable skill: You're just not looking in the right places.
Elizabeth Rotunno is 14 years old and lives in Massachusetts. Some things
she likes about Woven Word are the creative opportunities
and the many fun prompts that provide inspiration.
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