Two Worlds

By Shivi D.

Lights flicker at the other side,
both flanks oblivious of either.

Silence
rustle
whispers 
zephyr.
Barks
cold
concrete
arrhythmia

analogous.

Lamps far and away,
visible through the expanse
stay burning till intimidated by the sun.

Variations on a Snowy Day

By Adrija J.

I. 

A bell ringing afar  

Announces the arrival of winter 

The sound loud and clear  

Echoing along the empty streets 

II. 

The chilly breeze  

Swirls around  

Mingling with people's breath  

Awaiting the arrival of the snow  

III. 

A young girl sits at the window  

Trying to look through the frosted glass  

Wondering if Santa Claus 

Was after all a fairy tale  

IV. 

The snow falls in flakes  

Covering the road in a white carpet  

The Road Not Taken and The Road Taken  

Both desolately welcoming  

V. 

The sun peeps and hides  

The white and dark clouds warring  

The momentary sunshine on snow  

Sparkling like stars on a snowy cloak 

VI. 

A lonely skateboard sliding down the hill 

Stops atop a frosted lake  

The fish look on from underneath  

A white bird lands on the skate  

 ​

VII. 

The crackling of the flames  

People gather round the bonfire  

The heat rising from the soup 

The twinkling star on the Christmas tree  

VIII. 

The nose at the window  

Desperately seeking a whiff of the soup  

Little shivers running along the spine  

Little rumbles in the stomach  

IX. 

The street light blinks and winks  

A magic show on the snow  

Unblinking eyes  

Snowflake in hand  

X. 

The sky lights up in celebration 

Wisps of warmth whisper and wane  

The door pushed open again the force of the snow  

A bright red bell on a pale cold palm.

Who Was I -- Seventh Grade

I people watch 

I listen 

I learned about others 

I wanted to know their stories 

Everyone’s is different 

Everyone’s is important 

Almost imperative to the world

Which is really just a collection of stories if you think about it 

Well everyone’s story was important

Except mine 

I heard everyone’s stories

About their friends 

About siblings 

Or family vacations 

Or even their stupid dog

I listened to everyone’s stories, their happy stories

And I read book after book after book

Always wanting to escape from this world, if only for a little while 

Filling my mind with so many stories in hopes I could forget my own 

Yet here they are 

Stuck in my head 

But bleeding from my fingertips across a blank page 

Filling it with pain and heartbreak 

That’s why I write 

To bleed 

But I guess there are some stories we don’t share 

Some stories we can’t share

I never shared stories 

I gathered them all up

And put them in a box of 

“Things I wish I could forget”

My life became one dimensional 

I was just a body 

With no stories 

With no memories

With no love

With no nothing

Somedays I was overwhelmed with emotion and others I was just numb 

And I didn’t know what was worse 

Dying of thirst or drowning 

Days just became the same thing 

Over and over again 

A repetitive motion 

Half the time I forgot I was even alive

But one day the box broke and everything came pouring out

Drowning me

I broke too

But I wouldn’t tell anyone anything 

I thought sharing a memory was like sharing a burden 

A burden no one else deserved 

I remember that day, naturally I was a mess

One person noticed 

Out of the 500 people I passed by 

One person noticed

It was my teacher, I was mortified 

She asked if I was okay

I started to cry like I was in kindergarden and I’d lost my stuffed animal 

But now I was in danger of losing much more 

But I wouldn’t tell her what was wrong 

I couldn’t 

And I was embarrassed 

Embarrassed of not being okay

Embarrassed of the story I refused to tell

As if telling someone would kill me 

And if I’m being honest it might

I was embarrassed of the scars it left me with 

Some physical

Most emotional 

Because the thing about scars is

Sometimes they make past seem more real than the present 

And the thing about stories and memories is 

They remind you that the future is shaped by the past 

And sometimes you don’t want it to be

Sometimes you want to start over

Sometimes you want to forget 

Sometimes you just want to just live your life 

Sometimes you can’t.

I Am From Everything Blue

By Ellie C.

I am from blue, everything blue,

The shining of the ocean glimmering in sunlight,

The crashing of the waterfall that cascades down in a misty veil,

The shades of my jacket, jeans, water bottle, backpack,

The azure of the pool that I see almost every day.

I am from the feeling of the sapphire rain on my face,

From the booming thunder, flashing lightning, and gray skies, of Virginia

From stars scattered like bright paint across the dark canvas sky.

I am from all the fruit: mangoes, blueberries, strawberries, cherries, blackberries:

From the sweet to sour tastes of all of them,

From the plate of no vegetables,

From the flavorful sauce spread upon pasta with love

Made by my mother.

I am from Wai-gong and Wai-poa, from their silent support,

From the nights spent long ago.

I am from Hawaii visits in the summer,

Dancing palm trees and sunny blue skies,

Starlight and sunsets shining on water.

I am from music, filled with vibrant colors and carrying lingering smells,

Calm blue of Mozart, Bright purple of Beethoven. The red of pop and the yellow of classical.

I am from painting words onto paper,

From splashing images onto a blank canvas,

From creativity and imagination,

From the music that flies from fingers placed on ringing strings of my cello.

From the glimmering notes when hands meet the keys of my piano,

Lost and long ago.

I am from swimming,

Floating above the ground like an eagle,

Soaring, soaring, soaring to worlds unknown.

I am from the pool, where many dreams, friendships, treasured moments live.

I am from the waves, reflecting turquoise, smooth feel and calm sounds.

I am from the water, where I feel free, where I know

No limits.

I am from the chatter in my household:

Four kids, two adults, a cat, and a dog, 

Always filling my life with unexpected twists and turns:

I never know what’s around the corner.

I am 

From sibling fights,

From sibling hugs,

From sibling conversations,

From a life shaped by the people I live with.

I am from lemon leaves and budding roses,

From the backyard

That my mother always insists on watering.

I am from candles,

Smells of any kind: raspberry, cucumber, coconut.

Colors of any kind: mint, magenta, cyan, mahogany, cream, lavender, cerulean blue.

I am from you can achieve anything.

Always do you best,

And it doesn’t have to be perfect.

I am from dreams: moonlight-dappled nights,

Midnight thoughts, navy skies,

Starlight, moonlight, dusk and dawn.

I am from my world where the colors dance 

In an unending display of blues.

And I am from myself:

Flaws, imperfections, mistakes

Shape who I am

And who I will always be.

A Double-Edged Sword

By Erica L.

Steel staffs, steady and still 

An absence of sound, not one moves around 

A beast starts to run with a free mind 

But is quickly ambushed by a hunter pack 

It cries for help but is out of luck 

A parade of sharp, pointy spears collectively strike 

They stab it with their steely knives 

But they just can’t kill the beast. 

Confused, the hunters look at each other 

They thought the key was to strike altogether 

Everyone wants one more crumb, one more piece 

All envy the legend of the Midas touch 

No matter what they have, they continue to reach 

Stressing endlessly, restless for more possessions 

Trampling over one another for the Promised Land 

It paves a powerful path for their wrath 

They stab it with their steely knives 

But they just can’t kill the beast. 

Pandora’s box opens from the insatiable desire 

Closed before hope gets a chance to explore  

The unleashed evil only promotes more upheaval 

Each hunter realizes his reward is impossible to resist  

The cause of their demise, all humanity is lost 

So when the beast awakens, the hunters strike again 

They stab it with their steely knives 

But they just can’t kill the beast.