My Old Friend

Music. It joins, binds, and seperates us. In my first memories there is music. It starts with my parents and I singing the A,B,C's on the sidewalks of New York. It then moves to driving home in my dad's Land Rover blasting the country radio station, the first set of numbers I memorized that wasn't either an address or phone number. I still remember the first song  I memorized. My dad still loves the song 'My Old Friend' by Tim McGraw. That was, for the longest time, 'my song'. It has changed over the years. But the words 'My old friend, I recall the times we had are hanging on my wall, I wouldn't trade them for gold. Cause they laugh and they cry they somehow sanctify. And they're woven in the stories I have told...' still bring back memories. I used to constantly ask my dad what that verse meant and he told me that the memories on the wall were trophies. Being raised in a hunting household where stories about trophy deer were what rocked me to sleep at night, I caught on and figured out that he meant animal heads from hunting trips. This realization has made me understand my dad's relationship with his hunting buddies. They are his 'old friends.'

What I Miss

I miss the way 

the music

swallows you and changes you with every beat

how it dictates your every move

I miss the way

it takes you

takes you to another time 

to another earth

I miss the girls

who shared my passion

my love, my life

I miss the 

emotion almost tangible in the air

The happiness, and the sorrow

But what I miss 

most of all

is the feeling of knowing 

your place 

in this world

Dance on!

Dance on!
we say to each other
whether in sorrow or might

Dance on!
is our phrase; our saying

even though we leave each other this day
we live in these two words
Dance on!
say this every minute when you may be forgetting
and we shall not forget
those days gone away


As many of you know I dance with pride and joy. But this past dance week has been full of sadness also. Many of my sisters (me included) are moving on to different dance studios. These girls have been more than just a team; they are family and the best family one could ever hope to have. Even though some of us have left, and we have also gained a few sisters in return, you are always part of the family. Whether you stop dancing altogether or if you simply move on. We have frantically been exchanging email addresses, phone numbers, and any way to possibly stay in touch. We have cried over the phone and face to face. We all knew this day would come but none of us ever wanted it to happen. These people have influenced my every move in life and I want them to know it. They are the support team every teenager wishes for but, almost, never receives. This is a call out for every company girl from Spirals Dance Studio; I love you guys so much, words can't even describe how much I will miss you in my life. You guys are like my sisters, if you read this promise yourself and me that you will say Dance on! everyday for the rest of your life, I know I will.
<3 x oblivion
Skylar

We*

Each person on this planet
is born with eyes
whether they can see or not
they are a gift
to observe the wonders of the world
or to endure through the darkness

We all are born on Earth
Every single baby
enjoys the benefits
or suffers through the hardness
of the land

Even if a child born today is blind and unseeing
even if this child has skin
as black as the night sky
this child
is a gift
and should be treated as one

We all are different
but
we are all the same
One race
the one and only
Human race

*This poem was written for a Social Studies project called Do Something I decided to write this poem about race, I would love to hear your comments...

What's in My Journal?

We recently did a poetry unit in English and my teacher really liked this poem so I thought that I would share it with the rest of the world.

A half-empty can of Black-cherry-Seltzer
carefully balanced on top of a book
An arrow with my signature blue and white fletchings
quivering just below the bull's eye
not on target, yet
Ashes from campfires
and lost pets
Pointe shoes; satin ribbons barely sewed on
arches uneven and toes not broken in properly
Necklaces, three of them, carefully piled with three rings
and a bracelet
Laughter and tears woven throughout memories and lives
retold as stories of greatness and honor
Jeans stained with muddy dog prints and juice
Secrets told, kept, and unable to be shared
Pages empty of words at first glance
and at a second overflowing with life
You cannot always record life through words and pictures
stories and epics to be told around the campfire


you must simply record life as it happens

I Love This Place

   This is a poem I wrote on a car ride home coming back from my Lake House. I hope this poem expresses my feelings towards the Lake, and shows the elements that make the Lake special to anyone who has ever been there (even those who have only visited once).

Water ripples
under my
kayak
I love this 
place


Air rushes by 
my ears as
I jump
I love this
place


My cousin yells 
and we run
for the trees
I love this
place


A motorboat 
rushes by and we 
dive into the swells
I love this 
place


We rock back
and forth in the 
waves
I love this
place


We all can 
swim like otters
(almost)
I love this
place


I'm outnumbered
eight boys
to one girl
I love this
place 

Dance, Dream

I am shaking

I am not sure if it's from 

fright or 

from excitement

the stage is empty 

as the girls run off

our turn is up

we walk on 

taking the spots 

assigned to us

I am still shaking

the competition is fierce

for the first time 

I'm scared to go onstage

the music starts 

all of the feelings of fear

simply, disappear 

the beat and rhythm

flow through my veins

I am no longer scared

of the stage

I now am the girl 

in the dream

I am made of song

I am the dance

I am the dancer