Seagull’s Feather, et al


Seagull’s Feather



Like a silver charm it shines

Like the Bluegirdled Angel does it glisten

Every individual barb

Sparkles like cider

No stroke of lightening

Could electrify as piercingly

Fire no longer burns

The incandescence of the moon is nothing

Even the heavens cannot compare


But destiny must prevail

Embrace the prophecy

Unfettered does it leave

Farewell to the host

Salutation to the favonian wind


Across the azure depths

Performing a concinnous dance

Exuberant in grace and agility

Plangent in silence

Sagacious in its youth

Buoyant in its dexterity


Land ho!

Alas, it drops anchor

In the white sands of Tetiaroa

One thousands suns

One hundred galaxies

One universe

From home




Cry of the Blue Tigress


Far too brazen

With such bombastic swagger

How meaningless

Modesty, shame, respect;

Have you not any?


This privilege, choice, freedom bestowed upon you

And you’ve abused it

Corruption and profanity

Ever so ubiquitous

Those who gave you life

Are the ones who are pained the most

Has filial piety become obsolete?


What confidence you exude

Such panache you display

You strut about

With not a care in the world

Are you not concerned,

even the slightest bit?


O, but the consequences

Have not yet risen

Every seemingly trivial matter

Is recorded by Gabriel’s brothers

What you do now

Basks in ideology

Is etched in destiny

Lasts for an eternity

What is eternity?



Until the Sun’s last kiss




I Count to Ten


I count to ten

when I go to sleep

when I see the stars

dance with the sheep

and I dream of being a princess

in a pretty pink dress

with pretty blue eyes



on a white cloud in Venus


I count to ten

when I drink from my Shirley Temple cup

with the milk ever so sweet

white like a snow wolf pup

that has a mama

and a papa

that love it so much

that it’s the happiest thing alive


I count to ten

when I walk to school

Black e mo they say

you fool


I want to look like

the girl in the

Mary Jane wrappers

she has pretty blue eyes

she is lucky

God loves her


I count to ten

because I can’t count any longer

I try to fight

but he is much stronger

I pretend that the stings tickle

and that the scars are invisible

I ask why and he says

Because you’re my little princess


I count to ten

and pray to the Lord

that I disappear

or turn into a sword

or into a pen

Which one is mightier?


I’d rather just have

a pretty pink dress

and pretty blue eyes



on a white cloud in Venus


Hurmat Hashmi
Age 14, Grade 10
Clara Barton High School
Silver Key

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