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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