MY STORY
Mia Allen is a student at Redwood High School in Larkspur, CA. She enjoys reading a diverse range of literature, creating art in a multitude of disciplines, along with designing and understanding fashion and trend-forcasting (amongst many other things). She grew up in Texas and moved to California during middle school. In living in California, she has found a love for the outdoors, most specifically surfing and snowboarding.
PORTFOLIO OF WORK
THE INDULGENCE OF DIFFERENCE
Who would know this soul so deep that truly lives each day?
Who has the power to awaken this being of passion and hope?
Is it I or you to keep my soul awake?
Give my heartbeat purpose like the sounds of a tapping drum
Discard the ideas I’ve been taught
How is that simple in a matter of life?
Can one never stop their own desire?
Control over my volition
The pursuit of difference
Pull my soul from
The shell it inhabits
A connection cannot describe
The good and evil
Of this life that depends
On the passions alone.
Manifested in thought
Wondering with conquest
Pawing for a whim
To find resolution in the depths of humanity
Tell me.
Between love and hatred
Which of those two
Creates the worst disorders
Is it the burning desire of hatred
That brings the soul to fruition?
Is it the love of lust
That brings contemplation?
Am I rationalistic
To question the fuel of the body
The seat of the soul
The control of my passions?
Am I manifested in thought
Actuality determined by organs
Am I brought to life
By the soul I cannot reach
The greatest vices
Combat the greatest virtues
A mind at war with itself
Contemplate the divine affinity
Attraction diffrencerated
Between the two types of love
Honest and true
One buried in disgust
Emotion expressed
In relation to the soul
Passions overturned by
Diverse humanity
A response, likewise, ungovernable
Uncontrollable reactions to
The deceit of love
The pluralism of love and lust
Tell me.
How can I find the pleasures?
blood pumping through veins
To disperse the hate so profound
The passion of the Protestant
Luther has told me so
The passions of Christ
Reached forth to heal the burden
I cannot love
I cannot lust
I cannot hate
As I have been so told
A mechanistic approach
To unveil the truth
It is wrong to assume
I will find the answer rooted in dualism
The inclination of spirits
To alter the passions of my youth
The wrenching disgust
For what I call me
Passion not of the body
But the mind it engulfs
An interaction
That distinguishes my individuality
Mia Allen
Inspired by: “Les passions de l'âme” (The Passions of the soul), René Descartes
EYES OF DECEIT
“She didn’t see me,” I said
But that was a lie
I know she did
Her tears told me,
Her breath called out to me.
Like a painters brush
Caresses the canvas
Her breath caressed the air
I could tell
That she didn’t “see” see me
But her waning smile
Told me she knew.
Hair sweeped at the nape of her neck
Her eyes echoed my name
Her hand wrote my truth
I knew she had seen me
Not for what I am now
But for what she wanted me to be
Mia Allen
CHANGING WITH THE SEASONS
She acts soft as wind,
Turning with every gust,
Swaying with the moon
Bees find their way
Nestled in the crevice of her heart
Taking what she gives
A cycle of birth
Her stem brings life
Changing with every wind
Dew crest petals
Perfume dwindles
Light captures darkness
With for growing seasons
Her leaves change
Losing the life of before
Still sits content
Why can’t I stay as calm?
Letting go of what once loved?
I know the way to let go
But I cannot bring myself
The thought of loss
Losing what once stayed
Cherished in my light
Lost in the changing winds
Mia Allen
Art by Helen Delmarie
Is it right?
I will sit
Watching her change
Until I do the same
Mia Allen
WHAT DOES POETRY MEAN TO MIA?
Poetry is the calumniation of creativity and introspective. It is the contemplation of thought, a collection of words dispersed in a way to force the reader to create a relationship with the page. Poetry is beauty. It is art. It is the interconnection between the mind and body; between life and death. Poetry can be everything, or nothing, and still be contemplative. With poetry, the limitations (or formula) that are brought from classical ideas of writing should be broken. Poems should be an exploration of humanity, it should question the relationship between the physical and emotional world. It should break the bounds of common thought and force you to reconsider the world around you. Poetry is a connection. It is a connection between the reader, writer, and thought. Poetry is hate, it is love. It is the world and oneself. Poetry is individuality on a page. It is life.