At the end of an election,
there is a beginning
To decide if those who lose
can still start winning
Kennedy beat me in ‘60
I tried to regain my footing quickly
But two years later it was fate or
I am destined to taste failure
In ‘62, I told the press that I was through,
From there my spite only grew and grew.
So I went on hiatus
And came back ‘68
All it took was a little help
From those lovely Southern states
Now that I’ve made my ascension
I’ll be tested on retention,
I want to keep the Oval Office
Even by means that border lawless.
Regardless of the stakes
I’ll keep my reputation flawless.
Others may hate you, but can that be what consumes you?
I’ve had my chance to lose
But now there’s no excuse,
I have every right to choose
If the Nixon name will be abused
At the end of an election
A new chapter begins
The people have spoken
On who’ll lose and who wins
The CRP is the key to victory
Some may call it slippery
I see it as a defense of liberty
I’m convinced that there is a faction and a party against me
I concocted this plan as one of the global elite
I’d rather not go back to the other side of that street
I didn’t push the button,
This break in was quite sudden.
I have a positive deniability
I’ve had elsewhere to look
But most of all:
I am not a crook
But I will not reveal the information that we took.
There are 1,025,109.8
words that work just fine to create
Any poem which purpose is to
Say anything but how I feel for you.
The word love comes close to defining us, I suppose.
But I would never just give you a simple rose.
Instead, a whole garden!
To help our fragile relationship harden
Into something like precious gold
With nothing more than words until now untold.
However, there are 22 words I know
That like the sun will help our blooming garden grow;
For which there is not a single word on it’s own,
That will translate these words alone.
Each word, though foreign and untranslatable,
Is like you: perfect, beautiful, unexplainable.
When you first caught my eye,
And shared with me the Yagan Mamihlapinatapai (mah-mee-lah-pin-yah-tah-pie),
There was a wordless, meaningful look between us,
But we were both too afraid to find anything discuss.
Upon meeting you I felt the Koi No Yokan from the Japanese,
And with a sudden knowledge and sense of ease
I knew we were destined to fall in love,
And I felt like I was floating far above.
But for reasons I might never know,
All you felt for me was Gigil (which by the way is Filipino).
And you had the urge to squeeze me tight,
For you thought me cute (much to my spite).
And oh! Do I wish
That the same French that taught me how to kiss,
When he made me weak in the knees,
Hadn’t also taught me La douleur exquise.
And because I wanted someone I couldn’t have,
My poor heart broke in half.
I felt German Fernweh for your embrace,
And all I wanted was a taste.
For I felt homesick for a place I had never been,
But too late I caught this feeling from Berlin.
But alas! Like the previously mentioned Japanese,
We had Yuanfen from the Chinese.
“A relationship by fate or destiny.”
Just like it was foretold, we were meant to be.
And when we talked we did so with Grecian Meraki,
A wonderful word to live by.
Doing something with soul, creativity, or love,
Describes us perfectly, my dove.
And the Norwegians showed me Forelsket (fo-rels-ket),
A euphoric feeling that made me lept.
One, that can only come when I am falling fast
A feeling which shall never pass.
And while falling asleep, again the French gave me the chance,
To think of conversations long since passed.
With L’esprit d’escalier,
Everything I should have said suddenly became clear
But hah! It was your turn now to feel my pain
As you waited for me to come to your home again.
You felt the heat of Inuit Iktsuarpok,
So I hurried there while the fire burned hot.
We enjoyed Dutch Queesting,
Which made our garden grow like Spring.
All you wanted was some pillow talk,
As we sat in your bed telling stories I never forgot.
And in that moment I knew the Turkish Black Love, Kara sevda,
And I could feel my blinding love coursing through me like my last hurrah.
When we kissed you opened my heart to Kilig in Tagalog,
And I felt a heady-sublime rush like our love was a drug.
I confess to Czech Prozvonit (or maybe it was Spanish dar un toque),
When I called your phone with a single ring and then without delay
Hung up so that you would call back,
If only to save me a little cash.
When I thought of the future, I felt Arabic Ya’aburnee,
And hoped that you would outlive me
If only to spare me the pain
Of living in a world without you where our garden only rains.
Eventually the Indian Boro language taught me Onsra,
And I knew with bittersweet certainty that our love
Just wasn’t one that could last,
A thought that made my heart beat fast.
When you left, I was hit with Portuguese Saudade,
And as you slipped away
I was struck with a haunting desire for what was gone;
But I knew that nothing could right this wrong.
With the time alone with your thoughts, you were hit with Hindu Viraag,
Which made your addicted heart feel as if going stag.
The emotional pain of being separated from me,
Wishing you’d taken an arrow to the knee
And held onto me.
We tried Italian Cavoli riscaldato,
But when we used to have such a subtle vibrato,
This loud banging of restarting what had once failed
Made it clear that our relationship had derailed.
Bantu made me Ilunga (i-Loon-Gah),
Someone willing to forgive the one who left my heart raw
The first time, tolerate them the second,
But a third time will not be forgiven
Eventually I found Russian Razbliuto (raz-blee-oo-toe),
The sentimental feeling towards someone you used to know,
Someone you knew,
Someone you used to love but no longer do.
And now I know of Japanese Wabi-Sabi,
A way to live and focus on finding beauty
Within the imperfections of life
Looking past the strife
And accepting the peace of the
Natural cycle of growth and decay.
Not all love lasts
And some lovers pass
But 22 words for love taught me how to love and love again
And how to know when
To move on and find another.
These 22 words have made me stronger,
Helped me rise.
But never fear,
For I will always love you, my dear.
This website is run by EWHS students.
NAHS is looking for artwork to be featured in their gallery show on April 13th! If you have any work you would like to submit, please email Lena Stavig for more information.