Poetry

What is Music?

By Nghi Ngo (Grade 9) HS Music (Hyun Sung Nam, Teacher) American International School, HCMC Vietnam

Let me carry you on a journey Far away from this world Your desk your mug and your screen All which will seem like A distant memory

The divergent emotions The tears and the smiles Serene Magical Vast The journey for your heart Your consolation, your warmth And your comfort Let me ease away your pain

A sound, a vibration Tumbling through space To reach your ears To be heard, understood Mused on

The pitches Blaring through your mind A shrill, a clarion Shrieking, piercing, penetrating The pitches Floating past your head A warmth, a depth Stable, grounded, grand The timbre Drips of rich, sophisticated honey The timbre Thumps of dry, scratchy sticks

The dynamics Racing an inevitably deafening path The dynamics Bouncing on softly timid clouds

Leaves crunching underneath our feet Wind howling in the dead of night Rain tapping at the wide windows Birds chirping in the sky Soar, like all the sounds in the world A song made to be listened to An appeal to our ears A variety of sounds An arrangement of rhythms A combination of melodies An incorporation with harmony A production of music

The ambiance of silence Of ticking clocks and whirling air The ambiance of discomfort Of harsh words and tension The ambiance of relaxation Of pencil scratches and warm lyrics The ambiance of background noise Of footsteps and “Swan Lake”

To bring to existence A creation of a piece Of lyrics, of notes A magician with words

To be creative An imagination set free An originality in full bloom An artistry that sets apart A symphony with all elements An iridescent movement A performance born unique A composition of tunes A work of art A piece that makes our ears feel

A six-minute-tune An adventure so vast A chance for sentimentality Of your sweet, cherished past A harmony created To soothe the longing heart A beautiful journey That tickles at your thought, “What is it about music That means so much to me?”

Poetry

New York Kitchen

By Christine park, 10th Grade Yongsan International School of Seoul

If I say new york kitchen think friends-cramped space with blue cabinets and rusty pots. the time monica made jam to get over richard and joey wanted jam and that girl from the copy shop together. think cozy like broken heater in winter warming christmas party to a beach island paradise

or the shepherd’s pie english trifle so good it had to be enjoyed on the balcony or in the bedroom away from prying eyes. (GOOD.)

there are ten seasons of memories in that kitchen more scrumptious than our homemade ones.

if you ask my mom why she doesn’t cook she’ll say “I did all of it in new york worked my fingers to the bone in that city steamed my face open like a potato to put food on your plates.” if you ask her she’ll defend why our kitchen in Korea is showroom clean except for the litter of chinese takeout menus and new restaurant promotions on our fridge.

no smell comes through this house except for the one the delivery guy brings-feasts of fried chicken or pizza or pasta or stew. As the tv flickers blue lights across our faces we curve ourselves around our rationed portions in search of warmth.