Flight
By Esme Z.
In our weary hearts
A longing beats
For our fingers to the sky meet
And though tethered to the ground
Our imagination flies
Tries and tries
And maybe touches the endless skies
We wish
Our forgotten wings of hope
Caught the breeze
And we swirled, giddy, far above the trees
Alas, cry the hopeless,
We shall never reach the sky
Never, ever truly be free of the chains
That we forged
From mistakes and prejudice
But the ones who hope yet
Know that as their hand and the sky once met
They will again
Touch the heavens above
But our imaginations will forever soar
Unbound by constraints
Because no one can chain down our thoughts
So they fly free
Maybe they’ll take us
Maybe our hands will catch upon the air
And we will climb so high
We greet the sky
At least we’ll try.
We’ll always try.
Sea Glass
By Chloe C.
Tumbling through a salty sea
Sharp rocks sand me down
So small you cannot see me
Small and afraid to drown
I once was part of something more
When a ship went up in smoke
Questioning what I would stand for
When the glass I once was broke
Bouncing around in a pool of salt
Thinking I was tough
Mostly I was not at fault
For being young and rough
After drifting many years
I imagine I’m spit onto the shore
Facing many unknown fears
Not knowing what’s in store
As I sit upon hot land
I feel all alone
Then I’m buried beneath the sand
Only wanting to go home
Being wore down by many a rock
My sharp edges begin to smooth
Now more than ever to those who mock
I have something to prove
I wonder if I’m really strong
My cloudy color makes me blind
I don’t know if I’ll last long
With no others of my kind
Living in a whole new place
Into which I have been thrown
Redefining my own space
My future is unknown
I start to get those butterflies
As I begin to peer
I promise I will tell no lies
“I’m afraid of change” I say with a tear
Negative Space
By PJ B.
when you say i love the smell of rain
do you know you’re actually smelling the earth?
the nostalgic scent that transports you back to your childhood is actually the soil that escapes via the negative space of your fingers.
the smell lingers in the air,
accenting
the wonders of your youth
and
masking
the hope of your later years.
but the changing seasons recapture memories in a different light,
rain embracing the earth as you realize everything wasn’t as it seemed.
you can’t relive the past as there was no life to it;
there was no positive space.
it was all
soil escaping,
rain-earth embracing,
seasons changing.
it was never
there.
and
there’s always something
missing.
parts of me lost in the positive space crawl into the negative,
knowing that it’s the only way to get my attention.
i know it’s ironic.
but how does
the soil that once wanted to be something escape back into the ground?
how does
the rain that vowed to never meet the earth again so easily embrace her?
how does
the season seem so similar to the others, knowing it is different?
how does
the negative space suddenly become the whole art piece?
i was so set on knowing who i was
i forgot how to be myself in the process.
Here's to the Good Ol' Days
By Emma G.
here’s to the past
to the days long gone and barely remembered
where the world is basking in infinite sunlight
and everything that was wrong
is somehow twisted in your mind to feel right
here’s to the naivety of childhood
where strangers are friends
friends are imaginary
and imaginary is real
here’s to the paper airplanes and the magic wands made of sticks
to the bath towel capes and the big wheel races
to dinosaur chicken nuggets and chocolate milk
and to falling asleep in your mother’s arms
here’s to growing up and colliding with the world head-on
to holding your tongue in a room full of noisy mouths and deaf ears
to the screams
to the whispers
to the holes in the walls
and to the letters stained with poison tears
here’s to the breaking up
and breaking down
and to the redemption of re-colliding
and repairing
here’s to feeling infinite
to blaring music with the windows down on an empty highway
to the times when youth feels tangible
and the world silences to make way for your noise
here’s to the sleepless nights
that either make your life or tear it apart
to knowing
the most meaningful conversations always happen after 2am
and to the realization that you are not defined by attributes
but by the memories you possess
here’s to the songs that transport you through time with a single note
to the smells that are intensely reminiscent of the forty-third day of first grade
to the nostalgic pain too excruciating to endure
and to the soft smiles of content remembrance
here’s to the good ol’ days
and to wishing there was a way to know
you’re in them before you’ve actually left
here’s to the present
to feeling a memory being made in the moment in which it’s being lived
and to already missing someone while they’re still sitting next to you
here’s to the most frightening way to zone out
watching the seconds tick by on the clock
and being unable to fight the realization that time is not counting up
but rather going down
here’s to the moments which define your life
to the tears
and the fears
and the years
that you live through
here’s to the firsts
and the lasts
to a past of tragic endings
and a future of new beginnings
here’s to falling in love
with them
with that
with life
with you
to the wishes upon stars
to the stolen glances
and the taken chances
and to finding a new definition of “everything”
here’s to the people that feel more like home than the house you grew up in
to never being loved by as many people as you are able to love
to the feeling of security
and to everything that sneaks through the back door
while you’re busy guarding the front
here’s to the courage it takes to let go
and to the courage it takes to hold on
here’s to what you lose
to what you gain
to what you lose when you gain
and to what you gain when you lose
here’s to the second after
and what it holds
to the weight of unprocessed information
and to feelings on the rise
here’s to the long nights and string lights
hands and life plans and never-ending fights
here’s to the songs that drown the sounds of breaking down
and the anthems of those beginning to build back up
here’s to now
to cherishing every moment while it lasts
before it falls victim to the minds of those lucky enough to experience it
yet human enough to forget
here’s to the future
to the dreams you dream
and the plans you scheme
to the life you lead
and the stories you leave
here’s to those whose greatest fear is oblivion
to the breath taken seconds after your name is spoken for the last time
to those who influence from beyond the grave
and those lost to the enormity of time
here’s to the cups of coffee that are yet to be drunk
and the people that are too
to never knowing which moment is your last
and to the acceptance that life flies by all too fast
here’s to the plans we make at 1am
when the world belongs solely to those who remain awake
to the desire for a spontaneous road trip
and to the desperate need to escape
and here’s also to those convincing enough to make you want to stay
here’s to the places you’ll live
the kids you’ll have
the jobs you’ll loathe
and love that lasts
here’s to everyone you thought you needed
more than the very organs in your own body
before learning the painful lesson of removal
and knowing that only one kidney is needed to survive
here’s to those who kept going when they were lost
and those lost because they kept going
here’s to me
to you
to him
to her
to then
to now
to why
to how
here’s to the people you will never meet again
and the longing for a place you will never return
here’s to the good ol’ days
and the awareness of their presence in the present
before they inevitably embody the cruel longing their name implies
because boy,
does time know how to fly
here’s
to
the
good
old
days
Words Said
By Bella F.
i can't help but to blame myself when i hear the words you say
so i understand if you can never forgive
because i was the bringer of all your sorrow and pain
but i have to remember the things about you
like how you would silence my voice
and everything you’re still putting me through
when i think back to what used to be, the salty tears rush through
I should have listened to what other people would say
i should have listened to the little voice
so i’ll listen to it now and not forgive
and wash my mind clear of you
and hopefully this time i wont cry out in pain
someone once said “oh i know this love is pain”
and what a perfect way to describe what we went through
and i’ll never understand what compels you
to quote words i never would say
and to convince others to push me out and not to forgive
so i’m still struggling to let them hear my voice
your opinions of me you would never voice
now brought to life as you say “let her be happy for what she caused, the pain”
and that’s what makes it so tricky to forgive
“you’ll never understand what she put me through”
and i try to remember if there was anything i would say
to completely ruin you
and it’s taken me some time to realize it was always about you
which has now brought me to find a new voice
and i am free to say what i want to say
but i can't help but remember how you said i brought you pain
and i try to push through
in any attempts to forgive
what an odd thing it is to forgive
because it's never about you
its about what the other put you through
and wondering if you'll ever regain your voice
because if you're trying to forgive them. then they caused pain
despite what those around you may say
if only i could forgive you for taking my voice
and if you will ever stop causing pain
and what we went through, is something i can’t say
The Creator
By Junella M.
I am a musician, artist, and writer.
I make shadows darker and the lights much brighter.
In my heart, mind, soul, and nature.
In my world, I am the ultimate creator.
Music is a language all on its own.
Softens all, even those with hearts of stone.
I am more than the notes on the pages.
Exceeding beyond the lines and spaces.
My goal as an artist, is to capture emotion.
One piece of art, is a drop in the ocean.
From black and white, to a spectrum of color.
In hopes that the world becomes a little less duller.
With the gift to write, I can tell my own stories.
To describe the lowest defeats and embrace one's glories.
My mind alone can stop the possibilities.
To create life and reap all its opportunities.
I am a writer, artist, and musician.
To follow my heart is my only mission.
Connecting mind, soul, and heart.
And writing this poem, is just a small start.
I Want to Write a Love Poem
By Helen P.
I want to write a love poem
I want to feel the emotion flow out of my fingers, onto the paper, to create something to tell you how much you mean to me
I want to write a love poem
I know all you read from me are poems about my fickle heart and my broken mind but maybe if I try hard enough I can write one that combines our two heartbeats into a paper song
Darling, my words will always be a reflection of the things that I never thought I could say, the things that sit on the tip of my tongue like it’s a cliff, looking out across the wasteland of my life but too afraid to jump
They aren’t the only thing that defines me, though
The late nights I spend praying that I never have to lose you
The early mornings I wake up with a sense of happiness quickly shadowed with my fear
The fear I carry in my soul
That love will never dawn again in my cloudy heart if you leave
I want to write you a love poem
But I’m fighting too hard with the demons that I accidentally released from my Pandora’s box
And something has me convinced that maybe one day you might be among them
And all I’ve got left is this hope
That one day the struggle will be past and the only thing living in my bones will be the love I have for myself and you
I want to write you a love poem
Hopefully one day I’ll be able to
Who Was I -- Kindergarten
By AM
My smile was too big and the world was too small for me
I was too short and my clothes were too long
My blonde pigtails were too messy and my blue eyes were too sunny
In my arms I held my companion
My best friend
My favourite stuffed animal
Plek
Plek was a dalmation dog
His black spots were worn down from years of love because I carried him everywhere
From my bed, to doctors appointments, to school
It was always Amira and Plek
I thought we were unstoppable
Limitless
Untouchable
I thought we were heroes
And maybe we were
After all imagination is always logical
Why live in reality when you can live in your mind?
But I was forced to face reality
We all are
Reality isn't perfect
It is messy
Judgemental
Cruel
One day I lost Plek
I looked everywhere
Under the bed
In the car
In my backpack
I even looked in the laundry
But no Plek
I cried and cried
Wet tears staining my rosy cheeks as I kept crying
I wouldn't sleep
I couldn't sleep without Plek by my side
For all I knew Plek was stuck all alone
Abandoned
Like an old toy no one loved anymore
But I still loved Plek
I had to save him
After all heroes save heroes
I wanted to be a hero
So I put on my cape
And grabbed my crayons
I drew poster after poster
Drawing my best friend
Thinking that maybe if I drew enough pictures
He would come back
I thought my crayons could save the world
And maybe they could
I put the posters everywhere
On trees
On telephone poles
In mailboxes
I didn't sleep for three nights
I couldn't
Or I wouldn't
Not until I found Plek
So I kept making posters
Thinking that maybe just maybe my crayons could help me save the world
Cause I guess all we need is a little colour
And some imagination
But my imagination was dry as the desert without Plek
One day the doorbell rang
I tore through the house like a tornado
I radiated light like the sun
I didn’t need sleep to have energy
I just had it
But without Plek my sunny blue eyes were overcast
And even my pigtails seemed to frown
When I opened the heavy door I saw a lady
She had on pointy high heels
And was as tall as a giraffe
She bent down to my height
Are you Amira? she asked
I nodded in reply
My eyes questioning and searching her for an answer
She opened her big black and pulled out none other than Plek
My Plek
A smile took over my face as I hugged Plek close
In a way I had saved the day
I had saved Plek
I had been a hero
After a long nap I told Plek everything
I told him we could be heroes together
That we could save the world
And maybe we could
One drawing at a time
Because sometimes all you need is an imagination
And a box of crayons