We asked members of our Class of ’25 to sum up how their senior year is going so far. They created collages. We’ll start with seniors Zachary Kazmouz, Mirabelle Lee, and Lily Jones.
Stay tuned for more updates from our PVS Senior Class of ’25.
The Bird is the Word: Sophisticated Schoolyard Shenanigans
We asked members of our Class of ’25 to sum up how their senior year is going so far. They created collages. We’ll start with seniors Zachary Kazmouz, Mirabelle Lee, and Lily Jones.
Stay tuned for more updates from our PVS Senior Class of ’25.
Lily Jones, PVS sophomore, was one of six finalists for the Riverside County Teen Poet Laureate competition. Friday, directly after performing her Poetry Recitation for our school finals (she’s good at reciting poetry, too), she was whisked off to Riverside for the Poet Laureate ceremony and final announcements. Lily came in first runner-up! She also was named finalist in the Jane Block Prize for Teen Environmentalist Poetry. Lily is an active poet, actively writing, submitting, and sharing her poems. Below is reprinted one of her entries in this year’s Riverside Teen Poet Laureate competition: her original “Well of Words.”
Well of Words
Our minds whirl so much swifter than
the words that, trying to keep up,
tumble from our mouths.
Sometimes they waltz elegantly,
but mostly they tumble out jumbled.
At times our astute minds are
too complicated for our simple tongues.
At other times our mind prevents us from
speaking our truth.
Sometimes even the world prevents us
from telling our truths.
Our thoughts are forced to stay at a standstill.
So we sit in drawn out silence
or meaningless conversation,
while the letters of thoughts in our brilliant minds
plunge deeper down into a well,
the place that we are too nervous to share.
Keeping track of twenty-six letters
in different combinations
placed in different patterns
is arduous.
So the well becomes a jumbled heap,
a tangled cluster of extreme emotions
and thoughts that create a unique mind.
Yearning to reach out
and discern this well brimming with letters,
we begin to ink our obscure thoughts.
The muddled letters creep up from the well,
sunlight from the surface clearing my
mind of dark fog.
The time varies for each individual
but the letters always find their rightful place.
Words spill to the surface,
as ink on paper becomes the
fundamental way to organize this well,
making sense of each thought
as they become amalgamated.
There is a pattern of words
waiting to be summoned.
These individual patterns create a poem.
An intricate concoction of emotions,
that are hidden there for safekeeping.
Words that taste sweet,
and perhaps ones that leave a bitter aftertaste.
Together, they craft something beautiful.
Poetry.
An artform filled with emotions.
Something that allows our minds to speak
our truth, pulling from our well of words,
fusing everything into a meaningful story.
The refined dance of words carry our essence,
so that we may be seen.