By Sophia L.
On display, 24/7, our bodies have become the sole
thing we have control over
How delicate this instrument is, every time we lift our eyes to see the naked world ahead of us
The world we live in is a matter of hanging onto what we have left
Occasionally, splotches and drips of red appear
Peripheral vision blurred
Neons lights of orange and blue trace the curves on
my face and neck,
exposing the flesh and muscle and bone
Around me, the instruments are out of tune;
heads turned away from one another
Their bodies in use, but their minds in shambles
Do I remain to cling tight onto what I have left?
My world is unfinished: a city left in chaos, am I
seeing in color?
Am I in London’s underground?
Phlanages desperately clinging to the bar I raised for myself
Shoulder blades leveled, sweat swimming down my
pupils blinded by the flood of light
Oh so simply, like the feeling of complete abyss,
I let go
The Path of the Silent Stone
By Jesse S.
On the cold wet ground
The sky shudders
As tears of rain come falling down
The September sun
Hidden by mausoleum secrets
A lookout on the hill
Crying for whoever’s next
Cherry Blossoms glide down
Pink mingling with the white of death
Paving a tainted path
To those with no more breath
In the quiet fields
Of a disconnected Earth
Lays a silent stone
Placed with no more mirth
Leaves tangle about it
Gripping the pink and white
Marble of red,black, and brown
Absorbing all the light
Sleeping child stills
As we approach her home
Mourning for her lost
Marked by The Path of the Silent Stone
By Danielle A.
I still wonder what her love means to you
A beaming heart that hid a twisted core
I always knew there was a hidden truth
The sharpened blades of her double-edged sword
Years later, pebbles went into the blue
They drowned together, spinning to the floor
It is safe to assume love bites too soon
Did you ever regret leaving me for more?
I could hear the laughter and smell the booze
Feel the thunder cry across the tan shore
I was the lucky girl who had a clue
That roses always come with thorns
I still wonder what her love means to you
Not yet a dream, only a faded tune
By Caidan P.
It was a steady, darkened night
When out of nothing, here it was
There upon the desk I wrote at
Had appeared a glooming mark
And unsure if friend or foe
As night pursued, I wholly harked
‘Twas the image of a dagger
Stabbed into the cushioned mat
That had read my twisted poems
As I stood there, harked, then sat
So I peered about my desk
To no avail, I found no rat
As there were none to rat out
I blamed the cursed sigil there
To be the work of no one other
Than the man who spent his care
Sweating at the desk all night
Writing in his darkened lair
It was me! a friend and foe
How could I be so unsure?
When all this fright of the Mark
Was my only threatful cure
Of becoming the insane man
That I had known to be pure
And of this (I can assure!)
That there cannot be a cure
A Saga of Death's Survivors
By Jesse S.
Billions once stood
On this burning broken rock
They didn’t understand nature’s war
For each step they took
Cyanide dripped onto her lush skin
And as that venom sank
And settled into her veins
She went mad.
Birds no longer sang
Just whimpers on their beaks
Bugs no longer chirped
Only silence filled their ears
A single glare
Set an island on fire
Only to be cried out
With a flood
A single breath
Sent a hero soaring to the ground
When she touched them
She gave us back the poison we gave her
A biological burden that
Absorbed the people
Who watched her be crippled
Until she almost gave her last breaths
Now we watch
As her broken heart heals
With the influence
Of the others gone
We can restore Nature
To her former throne
And revive those lost
Due to the actions of our past selves
Finally we will give her life
Of her nurturing us
That is the way it always should’ve been
By Shalala L.
a new pestilence
has arrived at your doorstep. handle with care.
reveal the truth? or let it
a car crashes
into another. no scars but
the internal damage is still
punches and kicks
protect the torso. save the heart.
love the brain
plague blood red turns
scarlet. Death omen?
the warbler above my window doesn’t
serenade me anymore, but
who can sing at
a time like this
there’s no more water
now. I’m still not
sure what to say about that.
just a little parched.
people are a little more
terrified every day. maybe it’s because
no one listens to the ones that
The sun beats down upon the busy streets,
afflicting the gray concrete with mirages.
The humidity is almost scalding. Almost.
The light at the end of the tunnel
is a bold
orange blue. settled anxieties
and husky haze. deep sleeps to think
and nights to wake. And every
body lived their dreams
You must not live in fear
By Jacqueline W.
A long time ago, my grandmother told me,
That there was nothing more important than love you can see
She told me
That in the beginning of the world,
As the autumn leaves curled,
The days grew shorter and the nights longer
She told me that the night animals prowled,
Seizing many good men who were led astray
It’s not my fault, they would say
Yes, evil ruled now, Chaos on a throne
A throne of deception and lies
A promise to both sides, made too long ago to remember
The good now diminished to a last dying ember
No one could change their destinies
For the world was ending
As the moonbeams shone and the snow fell thick
My grandmother lay on her bed sick
She shone through, her rays lighting the way,
Illuminating an imaginary path for anyone who listened
For her name was Hhope
As we sit, we can still hear the last forgotten memories of the people of seasons ago
For even if they had fallen in the fight for good, their love lives on
If you listen carefully, you can still hear the moans of the lost in the creak of the ice and the howl of the wind
The sigh of the plants settling in their roots, and the last cry of the mockingbird
As my shoes form imprints in the snow, it falls, slowly blanketing the ground.
The winter wonderland outside bathes the world in a blanket of quietness
The chittering of birds stop, and you can no longer hear the chatter of the squirrels
The air, the river, the mountains
An empty silence remains, the calm before a storm
I hear the dying cries of my ancestors begging me
A strong blizzard churns inside me, threatening to pull me apart
A battle between good and evil, a battle between jealousy and love
The night sky twinkles with many stars, their light leading the way
Peace settles inside me, and I suddenly hear the music of the world.
The song of the night jay joins in a strange harmony, the song of the old
The ice crystals sparkle, and the bitter gale moans in agony
This is the song of goodness
This is the song of winter, a time of choice and remembrance
I am one with nature, and I feel my soul being carried away with the wind.
The merry sounds of Christmas fills my ears, my mind, and my heart
My worries drain away and I am a new person
My grandmother was right
Winter always turns into spring.
Who Was I -- Third Grade
Never trust a judgemental mind
Because the second something isn’t normal
It tells the world it’s thoughts
Everything it can come up with
That’s mean and designed to make you cry
People aren’t always nice
Welcome to life
I hope you enjoy your stay in a society
That wants you gone or dead far far away
That year their words were thrown like knives
Not caring if they cut
The insults knocked me off my feet
Left me winded and out of breath
They made me dread school
Because the teachers said they cared
But they didn’t hear the words exchanged just out of earshot
They didn’t see the not so friendly punches
And the nicknames that weren’t jokes
They were either blind
Or they didn’t care
They lived by the saying
Kids will be kids
But when they grow up what will they be
Or will they never grow up
Will they always be kids
Because I don’t like kids much at all
During recess we’d all go out and play
I didn’t have any friends
So I played on the tire swing that nobody wanted to be near because it was closest to the teachers
But that’s why I liked it
One day the teachers stayed inside
My defense was gone
I considered running inside or faking sick
But it was too late for that
Nathan and Lilliana were right there
Third grade bullies
Not a big deal to most
Everyone gets bullied
They will forget eventually
They will be fine
But I didn’t
And I wasn’t
I guess they forgot that memories are like shadows
Not always in sight
But never far
I wish you could lose them just like Peter Pan did
But if I learned anything
Wishes don’t come true and dreams aren’t a reality
I got a black eye that day
From Nathan’s fist
Everyone was worried
But I said I just ran into a door
They believed me
Because they didn’t want to admit I might have problems
Because my eye didn’t hurt too much at all
Compared to what Lilliana’s laughs and names did
I guess sometimes what you hide hurts you the most
I guess a broken bone is easily healed
I guess a broken heart isn’t.
By Jacqueline W.
I was waiting for dawn’s stately tresses at the intersection,
For I hail from another time, trapped in its steady undulation
And oh was I waiting!
My feet were sore, my blisters festering,
Night was not day, day was not yet dark,
Yet I have to leave my mark.
I had come from another place,
A dream by a childs sweet lips identified a myth
“Tis divinity! A nymph, a fairy, a god!” She exclaimed.
A heinous sprite- two faced, a damnation common to us all
Or perhaps a fiend professing truth? What truth betrays the definition?
“Tis beauty in misty eyes and smiling mouth!”
Insatiable hunger, oh tyrant in peacetime, all for despairing hope
Is evading the truth, this cowardice, tempest worth?
Or is Death himself, devil crying mercy, with the promise of salvation worth?
Dare to hope or hope to dream?
Lady of the night, oh envious, cunning moon
Lend your gloved hand who stole velvet from the king of Chaos
And starlight for the silk caressing skin
The hand that brought broken dreams
And hated remembrance and brassy love
And lifeless eyes-
Give me the gilded key
And let in the glorious sun
For I see her tresses at the intersection
At the intersection between night and day
And old and new.
By Olivia H.
Fixate on your growth
Your peace, self-love, joy, your hope
Bathe in knowledge; grow
To Know You
By Renna B.
Let me cut you up into a thousand pieces
And puzzle you back together again
By the time I’m through I’ll have memorized every little detail there ever was to memorize about you
Better yet, let me capture you in prismacolor or oil paint
Let me turn you into angles and lines
Let me create my own version of you here on this pale paper
To tide me over until I see you in person once again
Well, for the best, you’d better let me fall in love with you
For then I’d spend more hours than ever memorizing your features
Let me stare at you
As you smile
As you laugh
As you cry
Let me fall for all of it
Then I’d truly know you
I could spend days fixing your broken pieces
Weeks perfecting my view of you
But none would compare to the way I’d know you
If I were to love you for years
You have to let me, that is if you actually want results
Nighttime in Quarantine
By Lucy R.
i have a headache
i have had a headache for two hours
last month, i would have just taken an advil
instead, i don’t sleep
there are no more articles for me to read
they all say the same thing anyway
i could wake my parents up
and ask them to keep me company
but then they would ask questions
and my mind would be too quick with answers
i didn’t drink any water today
i know that’s why i have a headache
but i still worry
why didn’t i drink any water today?
why wouldn’t i drink any water today?
this must be my punishment
doomed to sit at my desk until the world wakes up
By Murleve R.
My skin is breaking up.
It looks like nails have run through it,
Left it purple and pocketed where it was smooth youth.
It scared me,
But I realized it was just more scars:
My body protesting my fat,
As if I don’t protest it on my own.