Berkeley Poetry - College Virtual Poetry Platform

WELCOME TO VOLUME 1 OF

BERKELEY RHYTHMS - VIRTUAL POETRY PLATFORM

PLEASE ENJOY THE POEMS SUBMITTED BY THE BERKELEY COLLEGE COMMUNITY 
FOR OUR FIRST BERKELEY RHYTHMS COLLECTION
During the April 2017 National Poetry Month Celebration

Poems by Students

Poems by Associates

Poems by Faculty

Poems by Alumni

Class Project - Looking at the Moon

JUNILA JOSEPH, Business Administration Management, White Plains Campus

Acronym poem to describe what I learned about poetry and how poetry allows one to express themselves freely.

 

                                 Art of Poetry

 

 And it begins inside

            Your heart, your mind

Rapidly inspiring, creative thoughts

Teaching imagination and

 

People stare, breathe, and recreate art

Of all forms, my favorite is free form.

Everyone is open to their own preference.

Teach yourself your own rules

Remind yourself there are no boundaries

You are a artist

AMANDA RAMOS, Criminal Justice, Brooklyn Campus

The poem is about a girl wanting to feel normal

 

Before I Wake 

 

Before I wake, take the pain
Fix me now, make me sane
Or un-insane or just the same
Hear my heart ease my soul
Do what it takes just fill this hole
Make me normal, make me right
Perfect height and perfect sight
No more glasses no more visions
I am no longer in the future I envisioned
At war with myself I can't let go
I want to so bad but i won't let
It show
Pride will be my partner
Deadly and hot
I cannot change who I am
I'm all that I've got
I would let me free but then it'd happen again
I'd trust and be pure then get scarred again so
Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray to you I will not weep
Before I wake take the pain
Fix me now make me sane
Amen 

SIOBHAN M. KENT, Health Services Management, White Plains Campus 
 

The Best Friends Trees 
 

My best friend and I each grew a tree 
Mine was silver and his was gold 
It never really bothered me 
'Til one girl came with tales untold 
She came from a place with many treasures 
And filled my head with envy and greed 
They took away all the joys and pleasures 
Of raising the woman from a tiny seed 
The trees were talking one winter night 
They didn't like what happened to me 
I filled the gold with terror and fright 
She wasn't going to die peacefully 
Overcome by jealousy one day 
I couldn't stand it anymore 
At the golden old women I hacked away 
Until the very last tree bark tore 
The silver tree began seeping 
I suddenly realized what I had done 
For my best friend's tree, my own was weeping 
In the game of greed no one won 

VANESSA TAYLOR, Information Technology Management, New York City Campus

I am an Artist who loves writing poetry and I am also a photographer. My art is how I see the world; how I see people and life. So when I am writing I am inspired and that is what this poetry is about. I did a photo shoot of a young lady who wanted to be bold and beautiful and step out of her comfort and embrace her beauty. I helped her see herself how she always seen herself, because I know her I embody her as if she was speaking for herself!

 

Black Queen 

 

I stand strong

I shine like the full moon in the sky

All eyes on me 

A glow that’s always been seen

I'm glowing with beauty

A beauty I define

A beauty I knew was deep inside

A beauty that is mine

My skin is smooth and silky

A complexion of sweet melanin-covered chocolate candy

Full lips

High cheekbones

Curvy hips

Height

I stand with proudness

I stand with power

Black woman strength

My worth; I honor!

My brain I feed with knowledge

My humor will have you smiling

My energy is positive all around me

I am a woman of beauty

All in and out of me

Black queen

I represent me 

Those who fear me

are the ones who see me,

because my worth speaks loudly 

2/17/17

INEZ MARIE DELGADO, Business Administration Management – Human Resource Management, Woodbridge Campus

 

Broken Record

 

Alright! Alright! I get it, I was in love. Love, smug, Yes! Some kind of bug, going around injecting people with the blues, must have hit me twice because I'm still missing you.

Envisions of you cripple my heart, imaging you with another, tears me apart. Years go by and I still ain't right. Love songs from the 90s come on and you're right back on my mind. Right by my side, right at that park, listening to our favorite pieces of art, the list goes on, everything in that moment felt so warm.

Love, love, love, it's all that you are, you to me, you can never do no wrong, kick me, kiss me, keep me, and I'll still answer when you call

Patches of our memories live forever more, nothing else matters, when I realize I still have you to depend on. When I'm sad, when I'm mad, when things go wrong, somehow I always want to fall back into your arms.

Perhaps it's just an illusion, perhaps it's all in my head, but my heart keeps on rerouting back to you instead. Maybe it's a mystery maybe it's been dead and you’re just a bad habit and I can't kick these meds. I need to reboot, I need to shut down, otherwise, this whole love operation thing will keep crashing down.

KESHARMA BODLEY, MBA in Business Management, Online Campus
A short poem about life.  

The Change

 

You were my ace kid no matter the weather

Right, wrong we’ll make it through whatever

I’ll hold you down; I’ll pick up your slack

Best friends for life I got your back

I never knew the truth displaces

I should have known because a coin has two faces

I should have known better when you started to act weird

You became different, you no longer cared

But you told me I had changed

In reality I just started to see differently

I stopped being the person you wanted me to be

I stopped wading in the water and started swimming upstream

I stopped swimming in the lake and started living in the sea

Whose fault I believed in us and stopped fearing lust

I believed in trust and forgot about lies

I believed in your survival and didn’t anticipate my demise

Gave love one last shot and you fucked that up

So now I stand exposed, stripped

Who do I thank for this shit!

Life for all its obstacles, road blocks, derails

Or maybe people for their misguided actions and tales

Or you the grain of rice that tipped the scale

No, I blame me for allowing hope to paralyze me

Allowing love to lead me

Allowing alcohol to drown me

Allowing labels to categorize me

Allowing fear to cripple me

For my tears to expose me and lies to consume me

My dear, your days are no longer numbered…they are over!!!

EDELYN DE LA CRUZ, Interior Design, Woodland Park Campus

Towards the end of her sophomore year in high school, Edelyn's art teacher, Ms. Keppel, had asked her to write her a poem about the American flag. Without asking any questions, she sat down beside her art teacher and started to write. By the end of the week, she gave her art teacher the poem. During the daily morning announcements in her school, she heard the following "We would like to congratulate Edelyn De La Cruz for winning Paterson's Annual Flag Day Poem Contest. She will be receiving an award this Thursday at the City Hall Council Chambers, please go and support your fellow classmate for her achievement." 

Believe it or not, Edelyn was not fond about writing. She believed certain things cannot be expressed by words, which is why she hardly ever wrote. This was the only poem she had ever written since it was for her favorite teacher and wanted it to be special.

 

The Colors of my Flag

 

Red. Red is the vibrancy of our patriotism.

To me representing the heart of America.

It beats with rhythm and passion.

Red as a beautiful rose, yet never dying.

White. A beautiful white dove, flying with peace and freedom.

America is where your rights are respected

And where goals and dreams can be achieved.

White stripes across our country’s flag, to me representing

The grace and harmony that this country possesses.

Blue. Where the white stars are.

To me representing a blue river in the middle of

The Garden State and the Big Apple.

This is where I am from. This is where my heart belongs.

There, is our green lady representing the liberty

Of our country.

Red. White. Blue.

America is my home. Where my life starts and ends.

Those are what the colors of my flag mean to me.

My family may be from another country, but America is where I belong.

My flag, we honor you one day, but we salute you every day.

KEELY PORTILLO, Financial Services, Paramus Campus

I wrote this poem for my dad who lives in Guatemala. 

Daddy

 

Looking at the picture where You, Heberth, and I

were sitting on the back of the truck.

When we stopped for food the day

 That we were coming back from our trip from Mexico.

 

I was your princess and you were the king,

 we were on our way to the castle.

I was happy, but one day everything changed.

 

The day that you decided to have another family

 I felt replaced, I felt that I

wasn’t your Princess anymore, but you

always told me

that I would always be your princess.

 

Now I’m thousands of miles away from You,

with the desire to hug you. I really want you to know

how much I miss you!!

 

I love you Daddy!

AHMAD PEARSON, Business Administration Management, Newark Campus

I am a Business Major at Berkeley College. I love computers.

 

Family

 

Family is more than blood so true

Family is people who love and care for you

Family is as sweet as a chocolate/vanilla swirl

Family is the most important thing in the world

TINA PIERRE-FRANCOIS, Accounting, Online Campus

I try to write poems in my spare time. I am a wife and mother of two. I lost my father at age 19 and whenever they would celebrate Father's Day in church, it would make me sad and miss him. So I wrote this poem in spite of.

  

A Father’s Love

 

Your love is unlike any love I’ve seen

A love so deep, pure and true.

You looked down and saw us living in sin,

And came down to cleanse us deep within.

 

You could have done away with us,

And started a new creation.

But you gave your life for us

That we may have salvation.

 

You preserve us from all evil,

And keep us from day to day.

For you to do your work in us,

We must trust you and obey.

 

You gave us your power and anointing

To protect us from forces around us.

No greater love than that is ever known,

For you love us more than anyone ever loved their own.

CHRISTOPHER CARDACI, Practical Nurse, Woodland Park Campus

Born in Detroit but raised in New Jersey. Father of 2 beautiful children. Veteran. 32 y/o. This is a poem I wrote after seeing a video about racism and just how much it can affect everyone. I feel that the positive message in my poem could be a good teaching tool and stepping stone for everyone.

 

Future

 

Disgrace the race 

by using hate to rape, 

use hate to inflict wounds 

and words to gape.  

You can't debate 

that this hate 

will be the end to all mankind 

we ain't so great. 

 

I'm getting tired of these racial slurs, 

open my mind’s eye 

but only see a blur, 

It's the clouded imagery 

of the world's ism's, 

racism 

classism 

And discriminism, 

we've taken the world's people 

and turned them to classification,  

While hatred and regulations 

are causing discrimination, 

it's time we break this historic ism, 

learn to love again 

and to live as a prism,  

there's no white 

no brown 

no yellow 

And no black,  

nobody was born racist 

we were taught that crap. 

It's about time, 

we look inside, 

see the soul of a person 

and get away from skins pride.  

We all came to this world covered in blood, 

we all came to this world feeling the love,  

we all came to this world loving each other, 

we all came to this world loving our brothers.

So now tell me why we were taught to hate,  

to look at each other, 

And discriminate.  

 

Disgrace the race 

by using hate to rape, 

use hate to inflict wounds 

and words to gape.  

You can't debate 

that this hate 

will be the end to all mankind 

we ain't so great. 

 

It ain't time to debate, 

but regulate 

and end discrimination 

before it's too late. 

So brothers and sisters 

take heed to my words,  

spread your wings to the wind 

and take flight like birds. 

Cover the nation 

and encircle the world. 

Let's spread this positive word 

to all the boys and girls.  

The truth is 

it doesn't matter what color you are,  

learn to love each other 

and we can go far.  

So all of us 

as a collective soul, 

let's make the world a better place 

before we grow old. 

MELISSA GONZALEZ, Legal Studies, Woodland Park Campus

I wrote this poem last semester for my writing and research class. I wrote it for my Father whom I lost on May 11, 2013.

 

Greatest Fear

 

My heart stopped, I can’t breathe,

Is this true did you leave,

My mind goes blank, my eyes filled with tears,

It has happened my greatest fear,

The call I never wanted to receive,

The amount of pain my family will grieve,

The room goes silence, I get stuck in a gaze,

I hear people talking, but my minds in a daze,

Arms wrap around me, but I just stand still,

In a state of shock, my body has a chill,

Visions of you flash through my mind,

I just spoke to you yesterday, it wasn’t your time,

He’s in a better place I hear them say,

I guess I’m selfish I needed another day,

The time goes slower, the days are longer,

This too shall pass they said, it will make you stronger,

When? I asked, because I’m still mad,

Until we meet again, Rest in Peace Dad!

STEPHANIE YUNGA, Criminal Justice, Newark Campus

 High hopes but low expectations

 
I know how hard she tried to knob her heart
I know she wants to live a life with no pain
As she lies down under the stars
Her reality vanishes
The colors of her soul had drain
Making her drown in her own spirit
Fascinating how she keeps her head up
Knowing one day she will
No longer stay alive

 IAN OLSEN, Criminal Justice, Paramus Campus

 I beg of you

 

 I beg of you, please take care of my family

When I am no longer here

My family still will be

I, you and everyone needs to think of that possibility

Tomorrow is not guaranteed-

-and I still have so much to say

To my family

Every moment, every memory, every laugh

Will always be with me, it’ll always be with you

That’s a bond we all share 

Even though, I know, we know, there are rough times

But that’s what makes us stronger

And I want to make us last longer

I beg of you, don’t hurt my family

I won’t be able to watch them

But you will

I beg of you, when I’m older

Have my kids be happy, let them grow up to be something

They have that chance, they have so many opportunities

I beg of you, please let my kids see those opportunities

Please watch over my family

I still have so much to say

But my family already knows 

GERMAN SANTOS, Information Technology, Brooklyn Campus

 

                                          I Believe

 

I believe that I can make an exceptional progress towards my goals.

I believe that I can continue to grow, to improve my maturity, as soon I have faith in myself to dedicate into putting a lot of effort for my accomplishments.

I believe that I’m willing to sacrifice for myself in benefiting the safety of my mother and the rest of my family, who supported me since the day I was born. That reveal to me the next steps that I need to focus on.

I believe that I can do many things in life, no matter what happens the next day, I must move on.

I believe that I can be what I want to be. That I can go to places where I want to go. That I can let go of my past, without letting the negativity get in my way.

I believe that I have the ability to be the best in any area that I can excel into.

I believe that I can make a difference and make the world a better place for people to live safe and sound.

AMANDA MOSCARELL, Criminal Justice, Paramus Campus

 

I remember a time

 

A time perhaps, not so long ago…

You saw the world with different eyes

There was a certain innocence within you

A wonderment in each little thing

 

But now…

 

The world is a darker place

You’ve grown bitter and cynical

The world has become dark even dank

You no longer have that shine that made you sparkled

Despite a deeper understanding and truth

You still press on, pushing yourself through

 

There is a certain speed in life

Like the desperate New York driver

Rushing here and there

Compared to those simple days

That was just a comma in life

You push on to get forward

 

To move along

In a world that will leave you behind

If you don’t keep going, going

Life will get further ahead of you

And drag you into the deeper water

Filling your lungs with salty tears.

TIFFANY JEFFREY, Health Services Management, New York City Campus

I created this poem for and assignment in Dr. Klomhaus's poetry class. The assignment was to think of something that represents love and write a poem about it. It didn't take long before my teddy bear came to mind. I've had this one specific teddy bear since before I was born, and still have it to this day. It's one of the things I love most in this world and my inspiration for this poem.

 

In The Arms of a Teddy Bear

 

Love,

It's just another one of those mysteries.

A force causing people to act without logic or reason,

Yet it's the thing we all search for.

 

For those who have been lucky enough to have found it,

It is the most unimaginable and unexplainable feeling.

I was among those lucky ones.

I've experienced a Love that can fill one's soul with unmeasurable bliss.

A feeling so powerful it can warm the coldest of hearts.

 

When I think of love, a teddy bear comes to mind.

A simple stuffed toy, the first thing children often fall in love with.

The thing that calms their fears, and brings joy to their little hearts.

Just like the concept of love, it's puzzling,

How can this inanimate object be the source of such affection?

 

And yet there's a dark side.

 

The moment when that child loses hold, or sight of its teddy bear

It's nothing less than heartbreaking.

To have loved and lost, is one the most devastating things to endure.

Unfortunately, I've experienced this area of love, I too once lost my teddy bear.

An unexpected blow to the heart,

Causing an ache painkillers have not yet been invented to treat.

 

However,

Out of that pain comes a new quest, to find that love again.

So many of us go through our lives in search of our lost teddy bears.

And suddenly, at the very moment we are not looking, it emerges once again,

To fill our lives with that feeling we've longed for.

The child who's now an adult, rediscovering love, that old stuffed toy from their youthful days.

It had been carefully tucked away in an attic or garage,

remaining buried in storage until the time was right

 

And there, Love is found again in the arms of a teddy bear.

ALLAH-ADE (NKOSITHANI) JENKINS, Fashion Managment & Marketing, New York City Campus

Konsummate performance artiste, Rootwriter Poet, balladeer, Lyricist, writer of varied genres and Afrakan Drummer. Writing and performing since 1970's. Published piece works 1980's to 2009 in various collegiate journals, newsletters, & national publications. Performs @OPEN MICS throughout the 5 Boro's, inkl. Nicholas Brooklyn, The Poetry Collective events, Berkeley College S.A.C. events. Winner of several local & national poetry contests in book form & live performance. . .
"IN THE GROOVE" is a Rootwriter Poem based on the Self'empowerment of Loves duality and reciprokation.

 

IN THE GROOVE
 

 You may think that I’m a playHer when we meet

kause Eye use the word to massage Your feet

make Your heart skip sum beats,

then wash Your bodies,

& till You w/leaks. . .

SOW LET ME PUT U IN THE MOOD…

LET ME FULL U W/THIS FOOD…SOW WE KAN BE IN TUNE.

You may drink me like a good kreamHer on Your palate,

oar utilleyez me win You need to Burn that Midnight Oil,

kall on Me from Your spirit like the Ancestors toil,

even raize me in Your sacred garden sow we kan till the soil. . .

SOW LET ME PUT U IN THE MOOD…

LET ME FULL U W/THIS FOOD…SOW WE KAN BE IN TUNE.

You don’t have to be afraid of demons & demigods,

iNi am Your Defender of the Faith,

Kommander of the Door,

Your Bobo Kingman hear to sweep Your every pore,

sow You will Cee better than Queen Makeda

who waz deceived when She walked SolOmOn’s floor. . .

SOW LET ME PUT YOU IN THE MOOD…

LET ME FULL U W/THIS FOOD…SOW WE KAN BE IN TUNE.

Eye-in-I will be Your hoe to dig in2 the earth of Your worth,

to bring You the jewels of Life-2-Life in this birth,

 pour the moor of passion like Dunn’s River Falls,

w.e. will klimb Yakub’s ladder & listen to Burke’s sang If Loving You Is Wrong, I Don’t Wanna Be Right, till we reach the brink of Marvin’s Let’s Get It On,

sow we kan maximize Our 7play like Benet said,

when you Wrap Your Chokolate Legs Round Me. . .

SOW LET US BE IN THE MOOD…

LET US BE FILLED W/THIS FOOD…SOW WE KAN BE. . .

In The Groove.!

 

                           SELAH

 Kopyrite2017 via Thee Gracious Poet

    (FR. EL. Allah-ade Nkosithani)

IAN OLSEN, Criminal Justice, Paramus Campus 

 

Lost

 

Quickly

Suddenly

A moment of panic

Tapping every pocket

On your dark black jeans

You notice something is missing

You have your phone, your wallet

Your keys

What could be missing?

Trying to remember something that you forgot

Is like riding a boat, through the ocean

But the boat has many holes

You’re sinking slowly

Deeper and deeper into the darkness

You can’t remember, even the hardest you try

So how do you know if something is missing?

That feeling inside you

You just don’t seem complete,

But then you come to realize

You haven’t been complete

Since she left

Oh… that’s what I lost

TOLIVER THOMAS, Health Services Management, New York City Campus 

In this poem I felt that something about me had withered away. While also I was starting to embrace some things that I had been feeling inside! I have been writing for the majority of my life. My writings always derive from genuine experiences.

 

                              Newly Found 

 

I am a deep thinker but my reality is not far gone.

 

I released my pains by taking a walk on the stars.

 

No longer captive of false values and passions.

 

I realized that my faith is stronger than just a chain of reactions.

 

There is nothing more true than this intimacy that I share with the sky.

 

Through my eyes, visions, we share ties that run deeper than the

 

mysteries of this temporary world.

 

I realized everything serves a purpose.

 

Even I.

KEELY PORTILLO, Financial Services, Paramus Campus

I wrote this poem for my first niece. She is amazing and I love her so much. 

 

Ode to My Niece

 

 

We were all waiting in the waiting room

 

For you to come and

 

Light up everyone’s life. When I held

 

you for the first time,

 

you brought joy to my life. You

 

were tiny and soft as a

 

little rabbit.

 

 

Marianita when you First smiled

 

on September 27^th

 

you look more beautiful than

 

ever. You are an angel that came to this

 

world to make

 

Everyone in the family happy. 

 

Now look at you, you’re ten months old

 

And starting to crawl. You‘re unstoppable

 

my little princess. To me you are

 

not just my niece, but my

 

 little baby.

 

 

All your little mischief makes you

 

the cutest baby in the world.

 

Oh my princess!!

 

You are really crazy when you

 

sleep, You use almost all the

 

bed and leave me in a

 

 small spot, plus sometimes you

 

sleep on top of me.

 

I love it. You know I will

 

do everything that I can for you

My Darling.

 RAZIEH SHOJAEE, Information Technology Management, New Yor City Campus

 

                        Peace of Mind

 

There is unrest.

 “We are oppressed!” They confess.

Tears of distress

Children weep, depressed –

Walking war-stricken streets, undressed. Politicians address

Many nations, war-obsessed. “Peace!” they suggest,

The truth they repress. Is it life they detest? Millions we “invest” Saving lives, we guess. Pain in my chest,

Our lives are blessed For living in the West. Is your heart at rest

With human lives dispossessed?

JENNA RIGHT, Fashion Marketing and Management, Online Campus

In addition to fashion, Jenna loves writing, art and interior design. She is a mother of two boys who loves to read about health and nutrition and practice yoga. She also enjoys walking by the beach on warm days. Writing and art have always been a passion of hers. This spiritual poem will tell you more about her values and her appreciation of poetry.
 

         Prayerfulness

 

The sweet smell of incense

Sun shining through colorful shapes

Silence and peacefulness

She closes her eyes and presses her hands together

She breathes in deeply, then lets out a quiet sigh of

Happiness,

Sorrow,

Compassion,

Thankfulness

Singing begins, with the powerful then delicate sounds of the organ playing as we join in

Chanting prayers in unison

Discovering love

Wondering…the mystery

Noticing beautiful and intricate details adorning the altar

Singing with joy and complete understanding of her journey

Spiritual

Prayerfulness

 

-Jenna Right 5/3/2017

JULIA SZUMLICZ, Medical Assistant, Dover Campus

This poem is about the struggles that someone with an anxiety disorder faces whenever they are having an attack or anxious feelings. It explains the process someone goes through in trying to keep their mind calm and free from the negativity. I used to struggle with these feelings almost every day, but I have since learned to control them and keep a more positive attitude. Using my artistic talents, such as writing, drawing, or singing, helps me feel better when I'm anxious, so this comes from a genuine place in my heart.

 

Press Pause 

 

Her head is flooded with chaos,

But you would never know.

She puts on a calm face day to day,

God forbid she would ever let it show.

 

She wants to feel content,

But the voices tell her she’s not.

They’ll eat her alive,

Until her stomach is in a knot.

 

All she can hear is loudness,

Even when she’s sitting in quiet rooms.

It feels like she’s surrounded by fire,

Being engulfed by the smoke and fumes.

 

She feels so scared and worried,

But she knows she is strong.

The feeling will soon pass,

Hopefully it doesn’t take too long.

 

She knows it will go away,

Because eventually it does stop,

But sometimes it consumes her,

And she feels like she’s going to pop.

 

So in that moment,

It feels like there’s no hope.

Her life flashes before her eyes,

And she forgets how to cope.

 

The voices are so loud,

All she wants to do is cry.

She needs to calm down,

But it’s so hard for her to try.

 

Her body remains still.

Anyone around her could never guess,

That a girl who seems so quiet,

Has a mind that’s a mess.

 

The darkness consumes her,

And she fights it with all her might.

She tries to push the negativity aside,

Just so she can see the light.

 

And then it finally comes,

The sunshine beaming on her face.

Something comes over her…

Like triumph after winning a race.

 

No one understands.

They think she fakes it.

But if you ever lived a day in her life,

You would never make it.

 

She will never know why this happens,

Given that there’s no obvious cause.

So all she can do is live with it,

And learn to just press pause.

 

Take a deep breath,

Everything will be okay.

Tell yourself you’re fine,

Today is another beautiful day.

ALLAH-ADE (NKOSITHANI) JENKINS, Fashion Managment & Marketing, New York City Campus

Konsummate Rootwriter Poet, performance Artiste, lyricist, balladeer, Afrakan Drummer, Writer of varied genres & ghostwriter. Performs at local Open Mics, inkl. Nicholas Brooklyn, The Poetry Collective, Berkeley College S.A.C. events, WoRdS Unleashed events &The Lox Lounge, to name a few. 

This Rootwriter Poem, subtitled "requiem-4-love" is based on one's appreciation for something beautifilled that kan not be taken only loved from afar while being up klose and personal to its essential beautides.

 

DEREK NEWBERRY, Business Administration Management, Dover Campus
 

                                       Saudade

 

I tend to see out the imperfections

But your imperfections

Are a delicious confection

A glowing complexion

An easy selection

I could make every day.

 

I’m not saying that you’re perfect,

But to me you’re nearly nigh

You’ve got me in a tongue tie,

Tough guy

It’s like the cherry tree, I just can’t lie

It’s too hard to tell you goodbye.

 

And when the night falls

I’m alone, thinking of you

Are you thinking of me? Is it that you     

choose?

And I want to tell you, so badly I do

What do I have to lose?

What if it’s you that I lose?

BLIZELLE TORMIS, Health Administration, White Plains Campus

Blizelle is a 19-year-old. She is a film making and digital photography hobbyist, she enjoys writing just about everything during her free time. Traveling, meeting new people in all walks of life, leadership, and inspiring others through her artworks are just some of the reasons that keeps her heart and soul alive. "Live. Create. Inspire" is her life motto. 

The poem is mainly about unspoken words from a girl who had a major secret crush feeling about this one guy in her psychology class. She didn't want to ruin their friendship by admitting her real feelings for him, so she decided to stay silent and write it all on a piece of paper instead.

MARCOS SUAREZ, Criminal Justice, White Plains Campus

 

                                             Sonnet 333

 

Beauty so bright it shines the darkest night

 

We sip from the finest wine with boil duck

 

so good so thin like we're eating egg white

 

she pulls my hair like why wait let's go fuck

 

like what rhymes with duck let me slam the door

 

lick similar to a tongue from a cow

 

heart pounding fast like an all-night dance floor

 

she cleans my broken heart using Sham Wow

 

love so bright like the morning from May spring

 

my pain so dead like the leaves from the fall

 

anticipating her seal wedding ring

 

every girl to me is like a curve ball

 

cause when it comes to her none can compare

 

God Buddha Allah you made life so fair 

WESLEY HARDY, Information Technology Management, New York City Campus

A quick vent about the cycle of negativity we allow to continue in our community. 

 

A State of Ethnicity

         

The change you see

The change of he

Distracted and confused

Abused and excused

The change you see

The change of she

Washed and dried

Mirror images displayed with pride

The change you see

The change of we

Stubbornly demonstrative

Proactively self destructive

The change to be

The change you see

One breaking the mold

Not what "nature" has foretold

The change you see

The change in me

Not what is expected

But something to be respected

The change you see

The change you need

Desperately

SHANNON ELFE, Business Administration Management, New York City Campus

 I am 28 a wife and a mom. I have been writing poems since middle school. This poem I decided to share with you is just one I wrote actually this morning (5/2/17) while on the train. Its called Stories I could tell you. I hope that it's relatable, that is what I try to do I try and write based on a feeling, a thought, something you see and hopefully it can heal someone even for a minute. 

 

                                                      Stories I Could Tell You

    The stories I could tell you as my heart starts to turn cold, living a life not meant for this soul. The blood in my veins starts to freeze, as the feelings I feel start to seize, as the stories I could tell you start to leave.

    Never again will I let this agony consume me, my stories will make your nightmares a happy place, where u can feel safe. As the man with a chainsaw stalks u and fear is what you embrace.
     Silly.... to be in love with what could be? Definitely learning to see the true meaning of looking past what's in front of me, it's not all fantasy,  reality is real and the stories I could tell you could probably help you heal.

    Stories till the pain is no longer there, facing the immensity is rare, and in time  the fear gets easier to ignore. Stories of a hell I can't run from, searching, and pleading, for the light at the end of the tunnel feeling blind it's out of sight I'm in desperate need to numb my pain, as anger, hate, and dismay occupy the same lane.

    The stories I could tell you as this suffering consumes my brain. The stories I could tell you is not a life meant for this soul, the stories I could tell you as my heart starts to turn cold.

TINA PIERRE-FRANCOIS, Accounting, Online Campus

This is a poem of the sun and the warmth it gives on the days you just want to bask and reflect on whatever you going through, the days when winter is so cold and you just want to feel the warmth of the sun.

 

Sun Dance

 

The warmth touched my skin from the sun’s greetings,

As the sun smiles at the dew as they disappeared;

I sat with my notepad in anticipation of your next move,

As you tease me, my heart feels your love;

You hide your face as the trees danced with joy,

My heart skipped a beat, brings back memory of a boy;

Evening has come, it’s almost time to say good-bye,

Do I have to go? I ask myself why?

I’ll see you tomorrow, we can do it all again,

I know you well, you don’t have to ask when;

The time has come for me to go now,

The day has come to an end, I must take a bow;

Farewell my beauty, as the end draws near,

Farewell my love, I’ll always hold you dear.

DAYALAN MASSIAH, Business Administration Management, Online Campus

It is a story of natural music

 

                                 Symphony

 

Simple wishing amongst stars

In the middle of the night

Playing music with the crickets

Lights shows with the lightning bugs

This is my concert

Croaks from the frogs

While the owl

Asking hoo's playing

A scenic orchestra

In the middle of the night

While simply wishing amongst the stars 

PING JIANG, Health Services Management, New York City Campus

Thank you, Berkeley 

 

This is a new beginning
A beginning that can get a new hope
A hope that can create a new value
A value that benefits the whole society
A society that let everybody wish to have
A wish that's made by Jesus heart
A heart that saves the peaceful world
A world is beautiful point of view
A point of view influences success

SHANTEL WHITE, Healthcare Administration, New York City Campus

The following poem is a minimalized writing of a heartbreak I once encountered, and the affect it had on me. 

 

THESE PIECES OF ME

 

 

THESE PIECES OF ME, I SEE I’VE LOST CONTROL OF MY THINKING. SHOCKS THROUGH MY BODY AS HE SAYS “IVE FOUND SOME-BODY”, I GUESS BEING WITH ME WAS JUST A HOBBY. HEARTACHE, CONFUSION, ANGER, DELUSION AND YET I SIT HERE WITHOUT A CONCLUSION.

DESIRES OF HATE IS WHAT I FEEL TOWARD THIS “EX-MATE”, HE WAS ALREADY IN PROGRESS, I'M A LITTLE TOO LATE. ALL I SEE IS FLAMES BECAUSE IT IS HE WHO I BLAME FOR ALL THE PAIN THAT HAS ME GOING INSANE, BUT AS I LOOK INTO THIS BROKEN MIRROR, WHAT I APPEAR TO SEE IS THE PIECES OF ME AND I CLOSE MY EYES AND CRY AS I REALIZE THIS IS MY FIRST STEP TO RECOVERY…….      

AMANDA MOSCARELL, Criminal Justice, Paramus Campus                                                  

This is Just to Say

 

I hate you

You walked out

Shirking all responsibility

Abandoning your duty

To flesh and blood

To life you created.

 

Your only friend

Was the bottom of bottles

Which was more loved

Than those two infants

You left without a father

And without a mother.

 

Your left permanent scars

From which I will never heal

Which caused this babe

To desperately grasp

For any sort of affection

Blinded by my own desire

To find love.

 

This is just to say

You don’t matter anymore

Coming back once

Only when I could legally

Make the same friend as thee

I made better choices

And I made better friends

 IAN OLSEN, Criminal Justice, Paramus Campus

This is a poem I wrote about who I want myself to become. I write about my current flaws and how I wish to overcome them.

 

To Myself, in 10 years

 

  There are so many things that I wish for you to become

So many feelings and thoughts I want you to feel

I know I can’t really talk to you now

Waiting and making you be the person that you want to be

Day by day

Hoping to change myself for the better

I want you to get over the fear of public speaking

I want for you to be more outgoing

Stop being shy, it’s a waste of time

Stop longing for things that just aren’t going to happen

If you need help

Just look back to this day

Look back at what you wanted to change

Hopefully, one day

That darkness you speak of

Will be a bright light

Guiding you in the right direction

I know you

I know you way too well

You will change, you will get better

I believe in you

I believe in myself 

JIN SUNG KIM, Business Administration Management, New York City Campus

This poem is about my friend who committed suicide at the age of 21

 

21

 

Far beyond my memories

 

I can see my lost dream

 

Moonlight refuses to walk with me tonight,

 

Hides behind the dark cloud

 

Tired footsteps moves body forward

 

But nowhere to lean on

 

Tear flows over everything

 

 

 

‘I’m sorry’ you said

 

But it is I

 

Who should be sorry

 

But hey,

 

You will be 21 forever

JIN SUNG KIM, Business Administration Management, New York City Campus 
 

23, 24

 

Took an oath

To protect my family

To protect my citizens

To protect my country

Fear no pain

Leave no regrets

Shed no tears

Two and a half years of service

I was never 23 or 24 years old in my life

I was just private Kim and Corporal Kim

It was my duty.

And up to this date.

I leave no regrets 

TOLIVER THOMAS, Health Services Management, New York City Campus

I felt this writing was very fun. Yes, the grammar and terms used is moderate at best but I really enjoyed it and I hope that you appreciate it and enjoy as well! 

Unconventional 

 

DIFFERENT THINKING

 

Different thinking. Different living.

 

Embracing the invisible. Discarding the physical.

 

Placing second to none

 

second to one

 

none second

 

but three all first

 

how opposite is thee

 

how foolish is them

 

how crazy is they

 

how lonely is I

 

how strong is we

 

not seeing believing

 

not touching feeling

 

not weak strong

 

eyes wide shut

 

ears listening closed

 

lips speaking sealed

 

mind thinking blank

 

body clothed naked

 

soul found lost

 

heart dead beating

 

time ticking stop

 

it doesn't

 

life not living

 

rising falling

 

fallen risen 

TALENA BAUMANN, Graphic Design, Woodland Park Campus

The poem is about the person feeling all the pain of letting that one person go who hurt them the most. Though it was the best thing to do, it still hurts. 

 

Watching the Rain Fall

 

 

It’s raining outside again and It still hurts

 

I’m sitting on my own beside my window pane

 

I’m wearing your shirt that smells so much like you

 

It’s like you’re here but it’s still not the same

 

 

 

I know I made the best decision to make

 

Your love was made of toxic fumes that’d fill the air

 

It destroys everything that breathes it

 

You could change but you clearly don’t care

 

 

 

If you did I’d still be with you in your arms

 

I still want to turn back but I have to be strong

 

You’ve had your chance I was always there

 

Even when you lied and even when you were wrong

 

 

 

 I could sit back and think through everything

 

I’m no angel, I could blame myself

 

Because in the end I chose to go through with it

 

And I was the one who put myself through hell

 

 

 

 But when you’re in love you, you’re stuck

 

You had my heart by a long string

 

But like a bomb you threw it, we exploded

 

Destroying my trust, destroying everything

 

 

 

As much as it broke every part of me

 

I got loose from your grip, it was all I could do

 

Now I’m sitting and watching the rain as it pours

 

Tracing the raindrops still thinking of only you

CAMDEN NEVILLE, Criminal Justice, White Plains Campus

Camden loves reading and writing short stories in her free time and publishes some of them on Wattpad.
This poem talks about seizing the day and going after what you want. The poem was inspired by the Latin aphorism "Carpe Diem" meaning seize the day!

 

When The Time Comes

 

When the time comes what will you do?

Will you just sit there in the aisle, with a fake smile,

while the love of your life says I do?

Or will you speak now and not hold your peace.

Because you know that she belongs to you.

 

When the time comes what will you say?

Will you let the words slip from your lips

for everyone to hear?

Or will you bite your tongue because of

fear?

 

Will you take matters into your own hands

and be the person you’ve always wanted to

be?

Or will you let the criticism of others

keep you from being free?

 

All these decisions might not seem so

important when they arrive

But when the time comes you’ll realize

that these are the moments that make

us come alive.

MICHAEL RODRIGUEZ, General Business, New York City Campus

My poem is a one line poem about a father and his daughter.

 

Yellow Rain

 

Badminton in the yellow rain under the trees.

ASHLY MORALES, Interior Design, Woodland Park Campus

My poem is about a past love. While I gave him all my attention he was falling for someone else.  

 

You Gave Her Everything  

 

I was hungry, I was devoted, but you gave her everything. 

 

You gave her your time, your grace and presence.

 

I yearned that, so much so that I could taste it. 

 

But 

 

you

 

gave

 

her

 

Everything.

 

I was wiling and able, to keep you safe

in a glass box for everyone to see, but only to be touched by me. 

To polish you, to make you better. 

 

 

But you gave her Everything.

 

 

Your smile, your tears,

your secrets and fears. 

I was willing and able.

To care

to listen, to blow you kisses. 

 

But now I know that you never saw ME while I handed you Everything. 

AMY SORICELLI, V.P. Career Services, New York City Campus

 

      Ellipsis...

We run away now
from this world. 

We pack our black thoughts
into suitcases -
lock them tight -
turn around three times
then spit.

There is not enough
salt over shoulders
or red ribbons fastened tight
over cribs and sick beds.
If we stuffed coins
into our socks -
curled our toes deep
around them -
or pulled out a deck of cards -
our eyes would bleed
from the weight
of lost hope.
Fear would part
our eyelashes
with each joker
or ace. 
We can't wave away
the ugly truth; swat it away
like a  lazy summer fly.

We kick our sorrow
down the street/a dented can
of angry shout-y noise.
We carry our burdens
in our open hearts -
marbles into words
and handfuls of rain.

AMY SORICELLI, V.P. Career Services, New York City Campus 

 

Final Arrangements

for my Mother

 

I breathed-in the lines of your face.
Left drops of who you were on the arm of the chair -
wrapped my fingers around unspoken hushed,
half-whispered words - tumbled.
Tripped-up, fallen.
I stared down your scars - your hollow eyes -
guilty they made me squirm.
Small round math lines /tunnels, knives.
I know blood was pushed in a mad dash.
They spun your stuff around tricking it into clean.
But nothing was new on you.
Soon you would be all that's left of nothing.
Short hair in spiked-up gray - snipped slick down at the sides
so you could be less sick in a smaller space.
You swallowed up those voiceless screams -
brave rock-climber folded into last year's size.
I was screaming for you
and you just wanted to live.
You asked for nail polish in deep blues -
velvet blues you called them.
You wanted to face the next stretch of your journey with your nails
shaped into neat half moons.
You cupped your hands around the tea cup
sipping it like you had all the time in the world.
But you were already gone by then.
I was just borrowing you. 

JIM THORPE, Marketing/VIA Agency, BES Paramus

Even after his passing. Larry L. Luing continues to inspire the entire Berkeley College community. His vision and determination have made Berkeley what it is today...and will guide the Berkeley of tomorrow. 

 

L.L.L. 

[For Mr. Luing] 

 

From a vision that began back in ‘31

He made the success of his students priority one.

Excellence in education became his obsession

As he prepared the next generation for their chosen profession.

 

Never content to sit back and rest

His commitment and drive brought out everyone’s best.

To the needs of business world we would expand,

Powerful, practical education was what he planned.

 

New people, programs, technology, and locations,

But never would we lower our expectations.

With each new opportunity, challenges came,

And he knew that integrity and hard work would win the game.

 

Tens of thousands of lives did he guide,

As his sons came to join him by his side.

From him they had learned wrong and right,

And always to keep the big picture in sight.

 

Time will change the ways we work and dress,

But our focus will always be on that vision of student success.

His wisdom will always guide the Berkeley team,

As we continue to carry out his dream.

YEVGENIY SOKOLOVSKY, Librarian, Woodland Park

Born in Kiev, Ukraine in 1974, Yevgeniy Sokolovsky moved to the United States in 1992. He graduated from Columbia University where he pursued a major in Russian Literature and concentration in Mathematics. His translations of Russian poetry have been published in literary periodicals in the United States.

 

Metamorphoses, by Slava Nurgaliev

        Translated from the Russian 

 

The swifts are scissors busy with the azure

The open window welcomes the sky in,

A fireman gone romantic in fine weather

Pursues the sun. You are alone again.

 

This evening you again repeat with pathos

The words of an exquisite heroine

Who in a tragic novel tries to fathom

Her destiny. I am alone again. 

 

The heart confides to paper as the twilight

Is captured for the future by a pen –

The walls. The pane. The swifts. The melting sunlight.

The joy I am alone with you again.

FILOMENA AMGURNO, Accounts Payable, BES Paramus

 

Mom Shining Star

 

 It's a shining bright day, it is mother's day.

A day that brings joy to my heart.

A day to express how much I love you and appreciate you.

A day to tell you just how you have impacted my life.

Your love and understanding has given me the strength to be the person that I am today.

Your manners and peaceful way of doing things with love, caring and understanding makes you the mom I aspire to be.

My heart fills with Joy to know I have an angel on this earth that always looks after me.

Shining eyes filled with love and admiration for a person that always shines in my heart.

It’s a bright day, it is a mother’s day.

AMY SORICELLI, V.P. Career Services, New York City Campus

Have been in career services and recruiting forever...have been writing poetry just as long....
have been published in several small journals, a few poetry collections and a few pretty cool online poetry websites

 

More Than Cherry Blossoms and the Baltimore Harbor Tunnel

 

When I think of Maryland I think of the plain pine box my grandfather was buried in;

the fistfuls of dirt thrown onto its hard surface

and the perfect gravely sound it made as it scattered in design under the earth.   

I think of him walking down the street bringing me the only bicycle I'd ever own/ how the blue

was shiny, the seat narrow - how he carried his newspaper under his arm. 

 

My grandfather carried my mother’s divorce in the deep lines of his face.  

He'd sprinkle atomic war and Red Skelton on his cottage cheese.

He spent most summers in upstate New York playing cards from folding chairs

tipping the corners of his life into round muddy circles.   

 

When I think of Maryland I picture my grandmother's face as she buried the only man she ever loved;

he signed her name for her on the occasion when X wasn't enough.

She'd speak to him in their Russian words V's and W's mixed together

and dark clothes to honor dead brothers from the old country.

I see the faces of random strangers crying into tissues/their pale, European faces sharing black eyes;

unborn babies shouting yellow stars into their throats.   

 

When I think of Maryland I think of brassy diners with plastic seats 

toasted white bread dabbed with butter in front of old men;

Four H club notices flapping beside pictures of lost dogs.

All those strangers pointing their accusing fingers into the dead hole in my brain. 

I learned about how vacant death leaves you  -how you swallow dust. - 

how it sticks to you - a scar across your arm.
 

How it fills your screams in the night with something you can't name.  

When I think of Maryland I think of lonely stretches of white front stoops -

knocked kneed girls in summer dresses 

and all the people I ever loved in one room 

staring out windows, tapping their feet. 

 AMY SORICELLI, V.P. Career Services, New York City Campus

 

Propaganda   

 

People say when you fly backwards in the air you land on your feet. 

Places I've been to don't compare to the shadowy grey  

of who I was/my fingerprints left on the side of a chair.

People say it's all outside like curtains or tattoos 

but we know the slices of knife go deeper. 

The grain of us is layered like years or days

each one walking on one small pebble.   

Poking snippy chatter like static;

black clouds in your head -

filling all that should be with all of this instead. 

 

People say it's natural that you get tired of the same song radio 

playing in the background/ you hear it like blood

if it made a noise through your brain.  

You ask yourself if every blank sheet of paper is the same.

You cry yourself to sleep in noiseless bundles 

even the shadows miss you.

People say that marriage is a long trip with landings and hills 

but you see it vanilla ice cream/ flake-less, holes in the carpet

reminders on post-its.

You see it different than it is.

 

No matter what people say. 

ROVENA PASSERO, Career Counselor, Woodbridge Campus

I wrote this for my dog 'Sasha Marie' who passed away at 17 yrs. old. I do not have children and my dogs are my babies. It broke my heart when she left, but she brought absolute joy to my family and myself.

 

 

SASHA MARIE  

 

Sasha, when I looked up I saw your face,

Eyes gleaming down at me.

I said, “Oh, come to mommy”

You were as beautiful as could be!

You were only nine weeks old then,

When I first held you in my arms,

I knew I would never let you go,

You captured me with your charm.

As I held you for the first time,

You fell fast asleep.

It was at that moment that I knew,

You were mine to keep!

You were all black back then,

With just a tinge of white.

Your ears were like the flying nun,

We swore you could take off in flight.

Those big brown eyes would look at us,

They filled us with delight.

You loved to chase our feet,

And had US fetch the ball!

You certainly were a riot, Sasha,

The brightest one of us all.

You wrapped each of us around your little paw,

You knew just what to do.

You were the queen, the ruler of the house,

We couldn’t do enough for you.

You never had to ask for anything,

We loved to spoil you rotten.

Even occasionally when you would get in trouble,

All was soon forgotten.

You got away with everything,

Way more than Aunt Issie and I.

Because you were the apple,

Of both your grandma and grandpa’s eyes.

You were never alone, not for a minute,

You were always by our side.

No matter where any of us would go,

You came along for the ride.

Your favorite things in all the world,

Were to eat and go to the park.

You knew how to get there better than us,

And told us with your bark.

Grandpa loved taking you for walks in the park,

Two to three times a day.

You made him laugh and smile,

Each and every day.

Grandma loved to cook for you,

You would eat everything in sight.

Everyone that knows grandma,

Knows that filled her heart with delight.

Aunt Issie loved you with all her heart,

I know you knew that too.

You made her feel so loved each and every day,

No one could have done that but YOU!

Now we will speak of your doctors,

You had quite a few.

Each one was special in their own way,

And looked forward to seeing you.

Dr. Schenck was for acupuncture,

He gave you quite a rush,

You knew when we hit 287,

For your happiness we could not hush.

You would speak all the way to his office,

And even with pain run to the door.

There were many times your pain was so bad,

That Dr. Schenck sat with you on the floor.

I never saw anything like it,

It was as if you forgot your pain,

But like clockwork each time we would visit,

To the door you would run again.

You also had Dr. Quinn,

Who took care of you from when you were a pup,

He made you well through many illnesses,

And never, ever gave up.

Dr. Fred was your Oncologist,

Although, thank God cancer you didn’t have.

However, it was because of he and Dr. Schenck,

That an operation to remove your spleen you had.

That operation gave us another three years with you,

Three years of love, laughs and happiness,

A happiness that we owe all to you.

As for me, what can I say,

You made my dreams come true.

You kissed my tears, you made me laugh,

I found unconditional love and happiness with you.

You are my baby, and always will be,

You filled my heart with joy,

I love kissing those little black lips of yours,

They were so soft and plush like a toy.

We miss you Sasha,

I don’t think you will ever know how much.

You touched every one of our hearts,

You gave us all so much!

You were our lives, the smile of each day,

Our lives are empty without you,

We wish you never had to go away.

But now you are with God,

Free from pain and fear.

I know you are in a better place,

But my heart wishes you were here.

Remember Sasha I asked you,

To walk beside me on graduation day.

For it was having you with me all these years,

That helped get me to this day.

School took away much of the time I could have spent with you,

And now that school is coming to an end,

I don’t know what to do.

I wanted to make it up to you,

Spending as much time together as we possibly could.

I can’t do that now…but God I wish I could.

REMEMBER baby you are our lives,

The breath we take each day,

And although you may not physically be here,

You are with us in our hearts to stay.

 

BARBARA A. CLYNE, Librarian, Paramus Campus 

A Student's Life

 

A student is a joy to see,

At least that is so for me

But, alas, and woe is me

A student’s life is one

Of utter misery.

 

From dusk to dawn

It’s papers and the internet

No play, no fun

They worry and fret

Imagining all that awaits them yet.

 

English 1105 is a lark

But reading Shakespeare quite a chore

But those work cited pages,

Please, please, no more! no more!

 

Art history they don’t mind

There are artists and movements of every kind

But Math 2211 is a constant grind

Now they worry and am in constant fear

That accounting is in store next year.

 

The library is remote to them

But teachers say it is the place to be

They think the card catalog is a mystery

And library orientation

Sheer drudgery.

 

In two years maybe four

They will say good-bye and head for the door

I am sad, so very sad, that they must flee

But glad, so very glad, to have earned

Their degree.

AMBER LASSITER, Director, Center for Academic Success, Woodland Park Campus
 

A World Without Teachers

 

A world without teachers…

Could a world without teachers really exist?

It is difficult to imagine a world like this.

 

You can find a teacher in any profession, home, or community.

These are the people who play a vital role in helping us

To be empathetic, sympathetic, compassionate,

Critical thinking human beings.

 

Now do you agree it is difficult to imagine a world without teachers?

It is difficult to imagine a world without teachers

Because it is difficult to imagine a world

Without You or Me.

ALICE BENTON, Career Counselor, New York City Campus

Alice Benton is a native New Yorker who began journaling and writing poetry at a very young age. Her poems tend to be heartfelt inspired reflections about what she is feeling. 

 

Why 

 

Because I breathe

I am important

Because my Lord allowed me to wake

I am great

As I continue to wake

I shall continue to be great

And each moment I live I am blessed

As I get older

I will get better

Because my God has faith in me

Faith to cherish the life He has given 

JEFFREY LOW-A-CHEE, Staff Development Assistant, White Plains

This poem describes how dark one can become under the influence of toxic environmental situations while one can use the situations to help fuel change within themselves.

 

Ying & Yang

 

We live in a world where massive amounts of greed overwhelm our souls.

It taints even the faintest heart of gold.

The irrational traits of lust and glutton take control of our minds.

Those in which eventually take control and support just like the human body’s orbit is supported by its spine.

As it continues to move deeper we constantly are subjected to commit crimes.

Crimes that are not illegal in which we see through the law, but those of which we see through ourselves.

We progress through this one path as if we don’t see others coming from all different directions.

We ignore the, “roads not taken.”

For which we are consumed to the point that our true selves have not been awoken.

But we can all change...

By living and learning…

By looking at those thick scars caused by what we have written off as wrong.

As people who believe, we all have to feel hell to get some sort of satisfying feeling of bliss.

When we reach that point in our lives, then we will truly find out what heaven really is. 

MOLLY D. KENNER, Faculty, English, Woodbridge Campus

New Jersey native, Molly D. Kenner is a graduate of Eastside High School in Paterson. She earned a Bachelor of Arts in English from Kean University and a Master of Fine Arts in Creative and Professional Writing from Western Connecticut State University. As an adjunct professor at Berkeley College, she teaches English Literature and Composition courses. She is married to the love of her life Harold and she is the mother of two brilliant sons. 

 

                                    A Collection of Dollhouses

 

Two dollhouses made of wood,

Mama hit her daughter with both

The girl arose; wobbly stood

Mama crashed a third, ‘cause she could

Splinters sprouted like undergrowth;

 

She cast her child out. Wasn’t fair;

Daughter called police and made a claim

In a bag, threw what she would wear,

Next day, fam’ly services was there

Things would never be same,

 

She’d hit her while in bed she lay

Whooped her ‘til she was blue and black.

Beat her nearly every day!

With things she found in her way

Daughter is never coming back.

 

Between her sobs, mama gives a sigh

“Should have been a better mother hence:

And left untouched the dollhouses” I,

For months haven’t seen my baby come by,

Her new mother makes the difference.

DORIS WHITE - Faculty, English Department

Teacher, poet, happy to enter my 15th year at Berkeley

 

                                 Eulogy for Barnum and Bailey 

 

We were allowed to go to the circus every other year

My sister and I

Escorted by one of our many caretakers.

We waited on our corner for the Orange and Black bus

To deposit us at the new Port Authority building

A glamorous structure with ramps, escalators and shiny glass doors.

Smells of sawdust mixed with animal droppings

The sound of  barkers selling turtles in water bags,

Lights that stayed lit only for the duration of the performance

Paved our way into the old Madison Square Garden.

Three rings beckoned

Spotlights on tigers, lions, elephants

Controlled by men sporting satin pants, jeweled shirts, shiny whips.

But we headed for a different attraction, a side show

A gathering of freaks

Waiting for spectators to “Ohh”…. And “Ahhh”

At their misshapen bodies

And unnatural ways of using them.

Frieda Pushnik with no arms and legs

Proudly typed with her chin and sewed with her teeth.

Sealo had very short flippers instead of arms

He shaved his face over and over and over again.

The tattooed lady had a beard

Or perhaps the bearded lady had a tattoo.

 

The giant man stood at nearly eight feet

The Doll family barely measured two

 

The entire family renowned for playing the Munchkins

In the Wizard of Oz

Reported to the set as we later learned

Three sheets to the wind.

 

We just stared at them

Wondered if they were fully human.

How could they be so different from us?

What if we had been born as they?

Did they have lives apart from the side show?

 

They remain in my memory as they were advertised:

Freaks! Come and take a look.

HUGO WALTER - Faculty, English & Humanities, Online Campus

Hugo Walter has a B.A. from Princeton University, a Ph.D. in Literature from Yale University, an M.A. in Humanities from Old Dominion University, and a Ph.D. in English and Humanities from Drew University. Dr. Walter has been teaching at Berkeley since 1999. He has been teaching online for fifteen years. His poem "The First Autumnal Silences" is about the beauty of the early autumn.

 

The First Autumnal Silences

 

 Saffron-soft butterflies spin

The first autumnal silences

Over the incandescent-breathing leaves

Shaping acanthus-golden blooms

Of bronze-pealing, sapphire-weaving light

In Eden-liminal synergies of azalea-germinating, lotus-

Altared dawns and cypress-astered, auburn-gleaming dusks

Sealing asphodel-lyred, marigold-sublime reveries

Of emerald-architraved horizons and iris-gloaming eternity

In crimson-diapason, silver-almandine echoes

Of Elysian-scented, lilac-ambrosial dreams. 

JESSICA KIEBLER, Library Director, White Plains Campus

Jessica is director of the library at the White Plains campus. She loves photography, travel, and food. So don't be surprised if you catch in her in another place Instagramming her meal. 

 

                                          Little Sandy

 

The house sits naked,

encircled by trees.

Leave-engulfed branches reach for her

as if needing to stroke her,

feel her.

Her eyes watch the lake

as it ebbs and changes

in ways that she can’t.

The trees peek around corners to see her,

she envies the trees

as they reach for the sky

while she is hindered by her roof.

 

Whenever we reach her, she is always the same.

 

She stares from her perch,

exposed to the landscape.

The sun makes her sparkle,

its rays warm her

inside

and

out.

She opens herself to us and

we rest in her shadows.

Her docks extend like warm hands

to hold us

as the lake she resides with receives us.

When we tire of the water,

she welcomes us home.

 

Her warm wood cradles our steps.

We tread lightly, to ease her.

She is our hideaway,

a respite

from the concrete.

As we huddle inside her,

she glows.

DORIS WHITE - Faculty, English Department

Teacher, poet, happy to enter my 15th year at Berkeley

 

Ode to Knitting

 

Pointed needles gave way to rounded ones somewhere along the way

Dollar store yarn became hand-dyed, exquisite skeins

But the rhythm remains unchanged

Knit one, Purl two, Yarn over, repeat from *

 

Aunt Sarah taught me the basics in her tiny apartment on Kennedy Blvd.

At ten years, I rode my Schwinn bike the six blocks from 80^th Street to 74th

Back and forth; sometimes all day long

As I knit stitches and dropped them; knit two, drop one.

 

Aunt Sarah’s fingers untangled my messes

With patience she encouraged my clumsy fingers

We persisted as afghan squares progressed to scarves

She guided the way as I tackled the intricacies of cables

Always there to repair the mistakes of twists and turns.    

 

I knit sweaters as children grew inside me

Irish sweaters on big clumsy needles took me through a divorce

A long poncho (285 stitches each row) covered my daughter’s belly

Big with her twins

I knit baby sweaters to welcome the births.

 

These days I take requests from grandchildren

As they charge into quiet knitting stores

Picking their patterns and their wool

Disturbing elderly women

Who knit quietly at long tables.

 

Aunt Sarah would be proud of how far I have come

I can restore my own dropped stitches these days

And I’ve untangled a few of my own messes

But I still feel her hands resting lightly on mine

Encouraging me to choose a more vibrant color and perhaps a different design. 

MONIQUE HUMES, AAS in Business Administration/Management, Paramus Campus, 2016

Words from my heart to his. I love you Harold Worthy!

Incarcerated Women

 

She’s lost emotionally and mentally because the one thing she longs for is many miles away.

Her best friend and soul mate is locked out of her life for too many days.

 

Letters and phone calls make her days bright but the nights are so lonely with him out of sight,

Her dreams make it feel like he’s near by her side.

 

Some days her mind is weak thinking if she will be able to defeat the storm she chooses to weather,

But the heart is stronger and nothing can stop them from ever being together.

 

Family and friends are supposed to be there for her when she needs a listening ear,

But doubt the love they have for each other instead just gossip negatively which turns her hope into fears.

 

Fear of losing the one and only person that understands her, that doesn’t judge her, and, accepts her flaws and all.

Fear that time will come between them is the biggest one of all.

WILLIAM FLUD, BBA in Health Services Management, New York City Campus,  2017

I am a vet recently finishing up my bachelor's degree. I enjoy photography and poetry as a way to communicate and my poems are from the heart, so they mean a lot  to me. 

 

Sounds of silence

 

Listen to the silence

Of the open road

Seeing the mountains

Rushing by, and feeling

The wind, as it blows

 

Witnessing nature’s beauty

As you slowly travel thru

Time, going back to those

Fun filled days, of endless

Thrills, both yours & mine

 

Experience new faces

Now they’re all a blur

Hello and goodbye in

A blink of the

An eye

 

It is the

Reason we

Disappear, and

Venture, onto the

Now lonesome road

 

in which the sweet song

Of silence, will be heard

And life as we know it

Can move on!

 

Blacque  

DOMINIQUE A. SMITH,  Justice Studies, Newark Campus, 2017

This poem describes my trials with my last semester

 

Dear God

 

Please show me that your purpose is greater than MY plans

Give me strength to trust MY faith

And not MY circumstance.

Sometimes I can get so comfortable in MY pain

That I forget HAPPINESS is still an option.

I know that MY struggle can keep me from success,

But who am I? What do I know?

I know that YOU do not create mistakes,

But the fear of starting over displaces me.

I know that I have a purpose

Although,

I am still in search of that purpose,

I know MY story doesn’t end just because this chapter sucks….

I CHOOSE TO KEEP LIVING!

Class Project: ENG 3330 Poetry Online
 

The following poem was composed and written by two sections of ENG 3330 Poetry Online students from this Spring 2017 semester. The inspiration for this project is the poem “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” by the twentieth century American poet Wallace Stevens, in which Stevens engages in abstract existential contemplation using the recurring visual image of a blackbird to focus thirteen disparate and brief stanzas, creating one unique poem, or thirteen separate poems, depending on the reader’s perspective. The classes were invited to create a group poem, with each student contributing one stanza to the discussion board, using the image of the moon as the unifying visual trope. Author names are listed next to their stanza. 

 

More Than Thirteen Ways of Looking at the Moon

 

I (Dr. Heather Klomhaus)

The full moon illuminates the earth below; 

Its reflection on the lake forms a trail of tears,

Each wave heaves and rolls with sadness.

 

II (Deanna Brown)

Shining steadily the moon appears

Casting light where all can see

Its gentle caress like a mother’s touch

Sing to me your sweet lullaby.

 

III (Jessica Renda)

A fugitive of the night

Fighting the light of day.

Blending with the clouds;

Translucent and faded.

Overlooked by the many

For it is not time to shine.

A children's moon.

 

IV (Guypshamma Beneche)

In the mist of the starless sky

Its little light pierced through the furry clouds

Exposing all hidden sorcery of the night

Shining bright enough to see our shadows.

Bright enough to see our flaws...

 

V (Ja’mauri Chumiso)

The moonlight travels to countries far and near;

Until it meets its demise from the daylight glare.

It's a constant game of cat and mouse,

its powers bring oceans to roar,

as many sea creatures rise from beneath;

to reproduce in orgies at the moonlight feet.

 

VI (Minami Kato)

Wait until the moon will be full in the autumn

A rabbit will appear to cook rice cakes

Eating pure white rice cakes under the full moon, under the rabbit.

 

VII (Osman Aksak)

Its serenity brings forth tranquility

The day's hectic chores

And with a light so sane and full of tenderness

A kiss so blissful.

Such florescence and dominance

Cannot be compared to a summer’s day.

 

VIII (Ronald Shivlabak)

Show me the way in darkness 

The Moon's glare disappears behind clouds

The departed feeling begins to grow

Light up the way once more

Just so the feeling can go away.

  

IX (Bryan Freeman)

You control the seas

And manipulate the darkness

You appear for your night shift

The use of your lunar powers shines as bright as the sun

Powers only matched by Poseidon himself

Has he met his match?            

 

X (Niagale Sissoko)

On profound dim evenings when it is dark,

A moon is beautiful and shines.

Don’t be scared--it’s there almost every night;

Giving a sign through it light,

I hope it will stay there forever,

Giving us a chance through this dark,

To admire a beautiful future.

 

XI (Chanel Weaver)

When night falls

You are the bright light that shines.

Look up into the sky, the moon they say,

there goes the way to the other side.

  

XII (Brittany Davis)

The ageless moon illuminates above

Its mysterious presence calms the night

A friend in the sky to the clouds and the stars

All are drawn to its pearlescent shine.

 

XIII (Edinson Lorenzo-Mejia)

That through darkness

So close but untouchable

Bright, but far.

 

XIV (Jenna Right)

She felt the universe

She noticed something

Her shadow was swaying in the moonlight.

  

XV (Daniela Stanila)

The sky full of stars courtesies the superb Queen,

As she opens her wings with angel feathers,

Floating agile across the painting night.

 

XVI (Shawn Esteban)

The Moon lights the night

Sometimes she is there, sometimes she is not

She can be very bright in her fullness;

The light of our darkness.

 

XVII ()

Beautiful indentations from the years I’ve lived

My light has forever shined next to the morning star

Living side by side

The two have seen the good and the bad

The ever-changing

Always showing my glory at night

And the remembrance in the morning

Do not be afraid; I am with you

Just look up to the sky and I will guide you.

 

XVIII (Yanisha Fields)

Visible at set times but you are always there.

No question if you will appear, for nothing can stop you.

As needed as air and as physical as earth.

 

XIV (Erica Flowers)

She reappears each night

With her soothing and comforting light

The hope in the sky

With sweet winds blowing by

She understands her purpose

Her presences leaves me wordless.