“El conocimiento habla, pero la sabiduría escucha.” — Jimi Hendrix
Dual Diploma
Morning after rain
Por: Edison Castañeda, 801
The street wakes slowly under a rinsed blue sky,
puddles showing the sunrise like small mirrors.
Steam lifts from the pavement in white sighs,
and sparrows’ songs sound through the silence.
The air smells green, wet leaves and metal banisters,
as cool as mint in your tongue.
The neighborhood is a sleepy orchestra,
trash cans tapping, buses buzzing, doors clearing their throat.
Gold, silent sunlight appears above the roofs,
resting on windows still fogged with dreams.
A bicycle rests on a fence, patient as a guard dog,
its spokes catching fire from the morning.
I walk through gardens decorated with water drops
each petal carrying a tiny sky.
Somewhere bread warms in an invisible kitchen,
the smell soft and golden in the air.
Clouds moving like slow sheep above the avenue,
and the city, washed clean, breathes smoothly again.
Apple pie
Por: Luciana Rodriguez, 801
Love is like an apple pie,
warm and sweet, fresh from the oven.
It fills the house with happiness and a tasty smell
and it makes you be happy and loved
You need flour, apples, and sugar,
and time to let it bake.
Love is the same
Grows with patience and time
Sometimes the pie could break
Sometimes it’s not perfect or round.
But it still tastes good
when we share it with someone we love.
A slice for you,
a slice for me.
Love is simple, warm, and sweet
just like a sweet apple pie.
Morning in My Town
Por: Samuel Ávila, 801
The sun rises slowly over the small houses,
painting the sky with soft orange light. The
air feels cool on my face, fresh like clean
water from a river.
Birds sing bright and brave songs, and
the wind whispers through the trees. The
streets are quiet, calm and still, like a
child sleeping before school.
The town is a gentle giant, stretching its
arms as the day begins. Shops open their
doors with soft sounds, and the smell of
warm bread fills the air.
Golden light glows on the windows,
shining like tiny mirrors of hope.
Cars move slowly down the road,
their tires humming a peaceful tune.
Simple streets, silent sidewalks,
carry careful, quiet footsteps.
In this place, my heart feels safe, as
steady as the mountains nearby.
Every morning feels like a new page,
waiting for a story to be written. And as
the sun climbs higher, my small town
becomes a bright promise.
Editado Por: Camila Pachón Vargas
Dual Diploma Tutor
The Deer Tamer
Por: Juliana Gelvez, 801
During the pleasant rising of the sun,
The farmyard seems to have fun.
Charming and cheerful deer showed calm,
But everything changes instantly,
Like a cloud that darkens the sky.
When the deer hear the “creak!” of the wooden door,
They become a whirlwind of horror.
When the deer tamer is coming,
A look of obedience appears in the animals.
When the deer tamer is coming,
The deer take a breath that sounds unnatural.
With his sharp presence and the eyes of predator,
It was customary to be afraid,
The deer knew that a mistake betrayed him,
And he would let the herd alone until being slim.
He isn’t afraid of removing food to waste it on beer,
Because he is the deer tamer,
The owner of them, “the educated and civilized deer”;
They thought about it with the nasty and dark descent of the sun.
Are they accepting this disgusting and awful destiny?
Maybe they aren’t the most powerful entity.
They can’t complain, they are the flies, and he is the spider,
Because he is the deer tamer.
A new poet of everyday life
Por: Juan José Cuellar, 801
The life is beautiful with all mistakes
But if you see it calm, it’s like precious lakes
That’s what Benedetti taught me with his phrases
Teaching those bad times were just phases.
Thanks to him I know the world is friendly
that love is a flower that needs to be watered daily
that wisdom is like waves at their calmest
But it will never run on someone who isn't honest.
“Slowly, life slips by through silent seconds.”
That's what life teaches us through its own methods
Imagine a cyclical future that confirms nothing.
where every decision can lead to anything.
That's what the poet who spoke from his heart taught me
He was considered the best, simply for being himself
His lyrics are felt, lived, and seen
And I am a poet thanks to he was my bookshelf
