Unmasked
by Aly Beckham
(10th grade - Assumption HS, KY)

I sit and listen.
Patiently.
As you speak to me of
Opinions. Politics.
Passion is your voice,
Confidence your eyes.

Knowing
That I. Will. Say. Nothing. to disagree,
Expecting
That I. Would.
Never
Disagree.

So I sit and listen, waiting.
Patiently.
For the moment I can
Cut. Your. Words. In two,
Watching the corruptness bleed out,
A broken dam of foolish certainty.

-

The Unseen
by Aly Beckham
(10th grade - Assumption HS, KY)

Swimming
Paddling smoothly,
Contently wandering
Through gentle currents
Lost
Calling out breathlessly
Confused, afraid
Of chaotic waves
consuming you
Drowning
Slowly sinking
Into a dark, silent abyss
Has it always been lurking inside?
Gone
Staring out of a watery mirror
A chain of fears
Dragging you to an invisible cage.

-

The Teenage Years
by Zaakirah K
(11th grade - St. Joseph's , ON Canada)

To be a teenager is harder than some may think
There are many tales about teenagers to share
But this is the story of a girl struggling to stay true to who she is
She is always stuck in her daydream
It makes her forget the pain, the cause of her scream

For make-up and dressing up, she does not care –
She only spends five minutes on her hair
She does not spend hours gossiping
Nor does she find joy in shopping
She wears a mask to hide
And hopes to soon discover a bright side

She puts a smile on her face every morning
She loves her friends
But is not always in their presence
She does not chase every boy she befriends
No one cares to believe her
Not even the closest of her friends

You won't find her drunk on Friday nights
Spending time with family feels more right
When left home alone, she does not dare to throw a party
Would she ever blast music in her room? Hardly
You won't find her ever twirling her hair
And she would never wear skin tight clothes to go anywhere

At the store she finds herself being followed around
Her intention is not to shoplift, the workers must calm down
Some teenagers try to sell her a couple grams
She always refuses, as she does when invited to jams
She would never give the finger or swear
Causing students to judge her with a glare

It’s hard to find satisfaction, there are many temptations
Media displays a bounty of the wrong information
All around, social networks are flooded
The mass use of them has her feeling gutted
She sees others walk around in the latest trend in dress
To merely fit in, they strive to impress.

-

If Poetry Is...
by Elly Kirk
(6th grade - Carmel Middle School, NC)

If poetry is a form of life,
then life is a form of words.
And those words create a story
just waiting to be told.

-

Homelessness Still Remains
by Emily Russcher
(10th grade - Zeeland East HS, MI)

When people look at us, they see
bare feet, skin and bones.
I whimper quietly because this is my lifestyle.
I'm barely holding on.

I am a vulture intently searching for its next meal.
It's like I'm hiding, even though I'm in plain sight.
I'm sitting here in the light, but I'm filled with darkness.

When people look at us, they see
cupped hands, pennies and nickels.
I am a vulture scavenging on anything it can find.

When people look at us, they see
sadness, wails and tears.
I cry quietly because this is my everyday life.
People only see me from the outside, and don't get to know the inside.

When people look at us, they see
desperation; misery and distress.
I wail quietly because this is what I'm accustomed to.

I am a vulture around roadkill or dumpsters.
People see me as being weak, but I'm strong,
I just don't have the will or the way.

When people look at us, they see
silence; silence equal to despair.
I scream quietly because I can't live more of this lifestyle.

I am a vulture you see, rummaging and searching for my next meal.
People are so quick to consider me inhuman
and have convinced me of that truth.

I am a vulture, but I can't spread my wings and fly,
because people keep shooting me down
over and over again.

I can't wait for that day when somebody sits down next to me, talks to me
and teaches me how to fly once again.

-

The blessing of me
by Joseph Harris
(9th grade - Bay Area Technology, CA)

I was always the kid that thought the sky was falling.
I've always loved my blessing.
It makes me who I am.
It writes out my legacy
But no one understands that.
They pick on my disorder, my weakness.
They play games of death.
While I'm passing out coffins.

-

The Fin
by Tristan Hartwick
(3rd grade - Doyle Elementary, PA)

The greatest shipwreck
of all time
was the Ice King
better known as the Titanic.

There was ice all around.
Outside was an iceberg.
Inside were jewels,
diamonds of the rich.

There was also romance
aboard that shipwreck,
Jack and Rose
starving artist, wealthy maiden,
on the voyage of a lifetime
tied to the bow.

Out of the mist they saw
a colossal shark in the shadows
of Red Hulk, Megalodon of the ocean,
a warning of great danger.

The bearded dumbkoff captain
ignored the warning,
ran amok into the iceberg
that advanced.

And now the Titanic treasures
sparkle in the Megalodon's mouth.
Divers descend time after time
but never return to the surface,
the ghost of Jack watching
in the mist.

-

Scared Yet?
by Katie Riggs
(12th grade - Calhoun County Middle HS, WV)

Scared Yet?
Run run away
Jump the creek
Slide over the hay
Before you're on the edge of the peak
Catch your breath
Don't turn around
You could be looking
Death in the eye
Don't make a sound
They say you can run, but you can't hide
It already knows who's inside
Don't fret, Now don't cry
Because either way you might die
You're alone with the Devil in animal disguise
Looking death right in the eyes
Oh my who could it be
What could it be
At last
You're running out of time
Acting like a mime
Everything could change in the blink of an eye

-

Something's There
by Kaylin
(5th grade - E.E. Waddle Language Academy, NC)

The clock is ticking, ticking away,
but the willow tree stays at bay.
You hear the wind calling your name,
but someone's there the way you came.

-

Trees - Lungs of the World
by Ritika Thomas
(4th grade - Hamilton Primary, NJ)

  Birds are flying high
                            Bees are buzzing loud
                            The children of the world are playing happily
                            The trees are growing tall waiting to be cut
                                                                        Imagine a world without trees
                                                        No birds, no bees, no shade
                                                        The world would be bare without them
                                                        So please don’t cut trees
                                                        Go green please.

-

Daydreaming on Fairytales
by Izzy Snow
(10th grade - Sir Francis Drake HS, CA)

I bet I'd like the way dawn breaks and lights up half your face
and I bet you smell of sesame - especially in the morning
so perfectly your hand would entwine with mine,
we'd go on long walks together, with no particular place in mind.

Maybe I'm too much of a romantic
but you seem to have a clever sense of humor
I imagine your smile
nervous            wry            dimples
Of course you've got dimples.

I like the way you draw on your Converse.
There's a spot, a little mole, on your upper lip
that I'd like to kissif I could;
I'm a sucker for autumn colored flannels.

From what I can tellyou're in 90's (?) techno phase.
Do you like New Order?They're not exactly techno but I like them.
Maybe I'm being silly.
I'm being silly.

I bet you've got a girlfriend andshe's beautifully ironic
but you seem to bethoughtfulas well,
the kind of guy who wouldn't mind lying in the grass on a Sunday.
I bet you'd be the type who'd wrap both hands around a tea mug.
You'd only drink green teaor black with no milk.

You have an iphone just for the camera feature
read Marvel comics in private
spend a lot of time decorating the walls of your room.
You'd be the type who would use your mom's brush before going somewhere nice
and say “that's what she said" in a church.

Have you traveled the world yet?

Maybe you ruffle the back of your head
your cheeks bright red
when you're nervous or embarrassed and maybe
you're just another boy at a bus stopbut maybe
maybe I'll run into you inten years
when our orders get mixed up in a coffee shop
and we realize that we should have ordered what the other did.

Sounds cliche
but that's how I'd like to meet you
if I ever do.

-

The Prophecy
by Hafsa Fatima
(8th grade - Intermediate School 259, NY)

There is a prophecy that one day the earth will fold in
and the sun will drown in the water to never rise again.
The traces of human civilization will cease to exist
and the animals will sink into the earth, back to the place where they started.
I bet your wondering, what will happen to the ashes of your existence?
All the hard work you did?
The patience you withheld as you tried to make a name for yourself?
And I will tell you.
It will all begin when the blood of your veins returns to the ground.
Maybe then will you remember that this earth does not belong to you,
You belong to this earth.

-

Lurkers of the Garbage Dump
by Emily Garroway
(8th grade - Miami Arts Charter, FL)

What’s in the garbage dump?
A rotten banana peel once used to trip someone,
unlucky lottery tickets from last week.
Moldy bread buried underneath a stack of old newspapers,
T-shirts and broken umbrellas that had seen better days.
Books with yellowed pages that fly out into the wind,
unwanted pastries stuck to sheets of wax paper.
Old flash drives that no longer work.
Empty milk cartons and music disks
that relinquish happy memories to the brutal wind.

-

Free
by Ashon Calhoun
(8th grade - Pottsgrove Middle School, PA)

I was made to be free
My past is trying to hold me
I can’t give up I’m a fighter
But the bonds keep getting tighter
Suddenly my life flashes before my eyes
I see all my truths and all my lies
I see all my regret and all my pain
I see all my pride and all my shame
I can’t let my past imprison me I will not be caged
I keep looking on the bad but I should just turn the page

I look on the good and the bonds loosen their grip
I look harder and they start to slip
I stare at the bonds that hold me no more
I scan the room then open the door
I step out and take in the sight
It's been awhile since I was in the light
I don’t look back I am free
Those bonds no longer hold me

-

Productive Poem
by Rebecca
(11th grade - Beverly High School, MA)

I decided to be productive
To get something done
Since then I'd feel alright
To spend my time in fun
Because if I'm not productive
I feel like a flop
Not to mention this fact
My grades in school will drop
But if I'm too productive
I have no time for play
Then I am quite miserable
Squished like children's clay.
I decided to be productive
But now it's time for fun
Because this little rhyme I made
Is something that got done.

-

Take Off
by Tessa Kettelberger
(11th grade - CB East HS, PA)

This is one of the broken ones
As nine of ten will be,
Pitched from the nest to drop like a stone
With wings torn inside-out.
The mother tests the next promise
In an assembly line of her babies,
Unlikely bets.

A rust-dented truck on a frosty driveway screams
Like a horse at the marble-knuckled twist
Of the key.
For the umpteenth time
It fails to leave the ground.
Walking then,

A dash across the street on faith alone,
A blind dart throw,
Wasted pages.
Maybe someday
Get it right.

-

Earth
by Mina Tawfiles
(9th grade - Souderton Area High HS, PA)

Let Earth be renewed
From all the terrible treatment.
Let her be treated
As a home once more.
"I am not a garbage can,
Nor a bomb shelter,
Nor a prison.
I am home
To all people,
And I don't like to be destroyed
By the wiles of the evil of Man."

Let Earth be renewed
From all the tribulation,
Corruption,
And mistreatment of Man,
So it may become a home once more
To the people in it.
"I don't like to be trashed,
Wrecked,
Beaten,
Or abused.
Homes are golden.
Garbage cans are plastic.
Treat me as a home."

Let Earth be renewed
And changed from evil to good.
People of the world
Are people no more,
Bur rather have become like animals.
They are a disgrace to the human race.
What can YOU do? Who can YOU help?
It's too late now.
"Who can help me?
Who can change me?
I am being wrecked at this very moment.
You! Yes you!
It's your fault.
Even if you try to help me now,
In the distance someone is trashing me.
Wait! Maybe it's not too late!"

Change
Yourself.
Change the Earth.
If you do so much as
Pick up a Snickers bar wrapper from the ground,
Or organizing a recycling club,
You can make a difference.
The Earth will kiss you on your forehead
And thank you
For all
You have done.

-

I am Humor
by Mina Tawfiles
(9th grade - Souderton Area HS, PA)

I can take you by surprise,
And attack you with laughter.
I will sneak right past your eyes,
And your stomach will hurt after.
I am funny when I'm unexpected,
You will chuckle 'til you die.
When I'm expected, I'm rejected,
And you laugh a laugh of lies.
People find me cheering,
People find me dull.
People may start tearing up,
And laughing like a gull.
I am fun. I am awesome.
People may think I'm stupid.
Your laughing heart will blossom
Because I am the comedy Cupid.

-

Some Days
by Sarah Fernandez
(11th grade - NYC Museum School, NY)

Some days I feel like I can't breathe. I'm a fish out of water craving for the sea, flipping and flopping until I suddenly stop trying to survive. It's as if I swallowed a razor blade, my throat burning, aching for the sweet air to end my misery. And some days I feel like I am the ocean. A great vast body of water. I cry and cry because I am filled with such beauties yet I can't uncover them myself.

Other days I miss my own soul. I feel tangled. I'm a vine which twists and twines, growing on a brick wall as tall as my own insecurities, searching for my long lost self.

On rare days, and these days come as often as a moon shines blue against the midnight sky, I feel so happy. The word itself doesn't even describe the sensation that tingles and spreads throughout my body, my veins. I have the sun absorbed in myself, bursting out beams of luminescent light. I'm a supernova, ready to explode and destroy my core.

And then I am immediately blue again.
The color of the sky on a rainy day; an unsightly grey-blue.
And I can feel my tiresome soul shake underneath my ribs, dying to be free to live, just not inside of this body.

-

My Dad, a Marine
by Leah Weinberg
(8th grade - Harrison Middle School, ME)

A sun ray that escaped
through my curtains
lands on the dog tags
that have been retired
on the wall in my room.
While I continue to stare I wonder
if only they could talk
what would they say?
Maybe they would share
all of the journeys
when they hitched a ride
on a young marine’s neck.
Or the one battle that he was in.
What about the things he saw
in Cuba and Africa
and so many other places?
About the letters he wrote
to his girlfriend back home.
Or his near death experience after
deciding to go cliff diving.
What about being lonely and homesick
but maybe not wanting to admit it?
Or getting souvenirs from different places
so that someday he can show them
to his children?
So many memories from that part of his life
he might forget
but are hidden in those
dog tags.

-

Devil's Trance
by Michael Williams
(11th grade - Stivers School for the Arts, OH)

Your eyes control my words
Your voice has my vision slurred
I’m unsure what’s to occur
But this is the way that you prefer
I'm not sure if I’m confused
In this room all I see is you
But I feel a presence greater than two
Devil's got me in a choke hold
I pray it doesn’t bruise
Because I can’t think of an excuse
And I’m afraid to tell the truth.

-

Funnel Clouds
by Brooke
(12th grade - Assumption HS , KY)

Spinning,
Funneling into view.
Air taken suddenly
From us, and given
Swiftly, so so swiftly
To the sky.
Take a breath
And fail.
Everything stolen in seconds
There will be
No goodbyes
No packing up
No running
It will end us.

-

Dead Dog Beach
by Stephen
(8th grade - Frank Harrison MS , ME)

Rita was rescued from Puerto Rico
where dogs are not treated well.
Brought to me by the Sato Project.
She was one of the lucky ones, many get killed or abused.
There is a beach,
Dead Dog Beach,
where unwanted dogs are sent to die.
Rita is blessed. She has no scars from her time on the streets.
What was her life like before she came to my home?
Abused?
Wild from the start?
Found on a street,
hungry and dying in the wild?
I wonder if she has ever seen
Dead Dog Beach.

-

Rooftops
by James
(8th grade - Jenkintown MS, PA)

Florence: The split terracotta roofs
cutting slices of air and space
away, behind,
the brownish tile
birds nesting on the scale-like cracks,
sticks and leaves upon their backs,
a leviathan, of stone and mud,
a spine of bricks and eyes of glass.
Paris:
Lights blinking around the tower,
dancing, prancing on the hour,
lights aglow with a tide and a flow,
dancing away days and years,
to the awe of those below,
the dancing Eiffel Tower.
London
Big Ben rings loud,
soaring sweeps of sound bouncing,
ricocheting away into the distance,
farmers, miners, lords and all,
its morning, it's morning!
they hear him call.
The crack of wheels across the cobble,
heralding the sun.

-

The Bell
by Lily Strickland
(4th grade - Homeschool, PA)

You ring like a child's laugh,
Silver as the moon,
Beautiful as can be,
You glitter like a star
When you ring to me.
You greet me in the morning with jingles of delight,
your slow rhythmic tones beckoning me home at night.
Sparkling like the sun,
Crisp as the air,
You ring to me.

-

Wonder
by Jasmine Banks
(9th grade - Souderton HS , PA)

Sometimes you start to wonder
why you wake up at odd times during the night feeling a sense of euphoria and adventure. Keep that adventure in your heart my dear never stop wondering don't stop living breathe in life live in happiness And love in fullness. Forever
and always.

-

This is War
by Kate Parks
(10th grade - Assumption HS, KY)

They have been fighting again.
Their cheeks are red.
They are flooded with passion and desire.
The desire to hit the other harder,
The desire to chase the other around the room, screaming and out of breath, The desire to win. There is no prize given, But bragging rights will suffice, And after the winner takes her bow, The war carries on. On another day, in another place,
With new pillows.

-

Please
by Elizabeth Truscott
(12th grade - Assumption HS, KY)

My creations
My design
Every word I write is mine
Every poem
Every line
Every little detail fine
From beginning
To the end
Every sentence, thread I spin
To the page
From my pen
Come to life my precious friend
My heart is you
My thoughts as well
Every secret I could tell
All these feelings
Overflow
From the depths of all I know
I bare my heart
for all to see
I'm trusting you with it
Take care of it
Please.

-

True Love
by Hannah Woodruff
(11th grade - Assumption HS, KY)

My grandpa's hands are coarse and abrasive.
They have grown and aged with him
Yet they look so gentle as they slide over my grandma's hands

And interlock his fingers with hers.
Ireland: such an amazing place where he came from.
"Have you been to Ireland?," I ask.
He smirks, kisses my grandma on the cheek and says,
"It's where I met the love of my life."

-

Color Spectacular
by Delaney Schneider
(11th grade - Assumption HS, KY)

Today I'm a vibrant hue
Of jazzy purple-blue, other
Days I'm in a subdued baby-
Blanket-lilac mood.

Vivid orchid is the hyperactive
Ambiance I've come to embody.
Iris is the low I avoid,
Running from the frost it brings.

Shades of purple exemplify my life,
Erase the dark grey areas
And represent bliss
Like a lover's stolen kiss.

On lousy days I'm a deep-sea teal
doing the 6-8 deal,
Or Crimson from built up stress,
Burnt to the core, engulfed
by a sheer sheen of flaming carnelian.

These are my colors from best to worst–
Providing solace through the storms,
Interchanging with every emotional wave.

-

Fake
by Caroline Strack
(11th grade - Assumption HS, KY)

Nails colored pink
Like cheeks on a child
Take the place of boring nude.
While dyed, fried hair
Falls straight as a pole
Down the middle of your back.
Clumped eyelashes
Are coated in black gunk,
And powder covers delicate lids
Making the eyes noticeable.
Pencil sketched around eyes
Creates a target,
And cream over imperfections
Hides flaws.
Powder cakes blemishes
And suffocates the skin.
Gloss makes lips sticky and heavy
And weighs down your smile,
While blush attempts to give life to the canvas.

This is the wall between
You and the world.
This is the mask you put on
Day in and day out
That conceals the real you,
The candid you
That no one gets to see.

-

No Guarantees
by Drake Friend
(11th grade - Harriton High School, PA)

You live life like there's no tomorrow:
Spend every minute avoiding sorrow.

There are no guarantees you can borrow.

Hoping to be alive for another stay,
Don't put your life in a long delay.

There are no guarantees for another day.

Wake up every morning with a smile on your face.
And never go to sleep without saying grace.

There are no guarantees set in place.

In a matter of seconds life could be changed.
You and your family could become estranged.

There are no guarantees that are prearranged.

Death is always near, so live without fear.
Because there are no guarantees...Isn't that clear?

-

The Mask Of Happiness
by Keeghan Hendricks
(11th grade - Harriton High School, PA)

The morning birds wake you up, and as the darkness fades,
you find yourself staring
at your bedroom ceiling.

You begin to wonder if you should stay
in your fortress, your bedroom,
or leave and brave the dangers
of life that gladly wait for you.

After your routine of adding
hair cleansers and chemical odors,
you wipe away the mist on your mirror
to discover you, your worst nightmare.

While going down the list
of how you NEED to look,
you still think yourself unworthy.

After the powders, liquids have been added
to your face in generous amounts,
you tighten the strings around your head,
and look through the Mask of Happiness.

At the end of the day, when you return
to the mirror and look your nightmare
in the eye before reluctantly removing
the happiness that your face projects,

The only thing you will find
in the reflection,
is not your nightmare—
it is the fool who has lied.

-

New Prescriptions for Dirty Gray Haired Misfits
by Deja Carr
(11th grade - Pioneer Valley Performing Arts, MA)

In my old age
I will write tell-all books
About people
I have not met yet.
I’ll take the rollers out
Of my cats’ hair
To dance and
Spin my new red victrola.

Now known as the one
Who wears a see-through nightgown
To bingo
On timid Chicago nights, I’ll walk beside the ferry.
I’ll be the crow
And the earth a carcass
I have slaughtered
Just like it did every other woman
and all and all and all of my daughters.

-

Me and Only Me
by Jade Ferguson
(7th grade - Rancho Del Rey Middle School, CA)

I cry
But nothing can stop me.
I smile
And nobody can hate me.
I’m lost
I’m loved
I’m despised
By people who have grown sick
Of those who have grown tired-and lonely.
I know
That I will never have the choice
To be somebody else.
I am me.
Sun is Sun.
Grass is Grass.
I will remain blue.
She will remain light.
And he will remain green.
But maybe I do have a choice
To watch
Sun set.
And forgive and forget
As I will
For those who have grown sick
For those who have grown tired-and lonely.
And those like me
Waiting for
Sun to set.
Waiting for those I need to count on.

-

Spring Dance
by Griffin Kinch
(3rd grade - Rattlesnake Elementary, MT)

A chickadee choir starts the spring hustle amid leaves swaying
in a rhythmic breeze.
Brown worms wiggle to the melodic energy.
Furry bunnies hop from cozy homes
to join the fun on the dewy grass.
Bears leave their winter caves, grunting songs of spring
As they blink in the sun’s bright chorus.

-

The Righteous and The Malevolent
by Jonathan
(7th grade - Jenkintown Middle School, PA)

The Righteous and The Malevolent .

clear water, flows, radiating harmony, peace. children play beside the river, they sing, they dance, they laugh, they drink. flowers blossom in the meadow, while fantasies unravel. tales of princes, of princesses, of victories, of love. forever more, the water flows. emanating harmony, and peace. the children play beside the river. they sing, they dance, they laugh, they drink the clear, water.

turbid water no longer flows. the harmony, the peace, is no more. children do not play beside the river. laughter no longer rings through the meadow. footsteps, fall silent, in the dead grass. the stories are gone. vanished, with the children who once spoke of them. the river has become frostbitten. no longer a sense of happiness, no longer emanating harmony, or peace. children do not play, beside the river.

-

Arise
by Margaret Siu
(9th grade - Episcopal School of Dallas, TX)

The mortal future my eyes can never see,
what love if any,
what toils,
what despairs.
What jocund mortal melodies
all rest in another’s hands.
My restless soul desires more as it rustles,
which paths I shall tread, will I ever know?
My day is young.
My sunset is unknown.
This soul I have not yet unlocked,
nor will quite ever unlock,
has only yet to speak to me.

-

Hello Spring
by Nakiyah Borsadwala
(3rd grade - Universal Academy Coppell, TX)

Hello Spring!
I have been waiting for clues.
I can't wait to say goodbye to the winter blues.
The birds are busy making their nest.
They don't have a moment to rest.
Butterflies, Birds, and Bees are back.
Let's take a hike off the beaten track.
Bunnies, Bluebonnets, and picnics are here.
Oh Spring! You are the best season of the year.

-

can't stand my ground
by Brittany Crow
(11th Grade - Woodbridge HS, VA)

On battered wings I was something.
On these feet, I'm nothing.
There is a beauty to falling
breathlessly and uncontrollably
while the sky pushes you away,
lacing it's dusty clouds
through your ribs
which twist and wind
under the pressure of comprehending you are not yet
as low as you can get.
There is a beauty to hopelessness,
not getting anywhere
but where gravity is dragging you
as it fills you to the brim
and tips you out like steaming tea upon the shore,
heavily drowning your lungs in thought.
Or what we may this day call reality.
And with falling
comes the beauty of failing,
because bothering to fly meant you bothered to try.
Instead of running yourself
in perfect little circles
round the ground we call our home
and wondering why the stars
never got any closer.

-

Moon and Stars
by Sanjana Doss
(6th grade - Atomic Energy Central School # 2, India)

Moon and stars, moon and stars,
Shining up so high,
when I go to bed at night,
I see you in the sky!
Moon and stars, moon and stars,
Tell me what is wrong?
For when I wake at break of day,
All of you are gone!

-

Nature
by Aditha Doss
(3rd grade - Atomic Energy Central School # 2, India)

Slender trees dancing in the breeze,
Cool dew drops on green leaves,
We see fresh yellow flowers
Dotted over the lush green grass
There flies by a lone honey bee
In these sights lies nature’s key.

-

An Arithmetic Alphabet
by Claire Murphy
(5th Grade - College Park Elementary, CA)

A is for angle, there's four in a square

B is for base 10 blocks, there's some counting there

C is for cube root, you must have a three

D is for distributive, it's a property

E is for equivalent, that's equal not mixed

F is for factorial, three factorial is six

G is for greater than, sometimes it's less

H is for hexagon, six sides, no mess

I is for isosceles, a side's longer each way

J is for joint variation, both quantities sway

K is for kite, with sides one more than three

L is for line segment, from point A to point B

M is for mean, an average that's not bad

N is for negatives under zero, quite sad

O is for octagon, which are sometimes quite wide

P is for perimeter, which measures each side

Q is for quadrangle, if only three sides your shape's lost

R is for radius, it measures across

S is for subtraction, minus not plus

T is for triangle, with three sides to trust

U is for unit, you'll see them on a test

V is for vertex; it "corners" the rest

W is for work, we do it in class

X is for "x", it's a variable that will pass

Y is for Y-axis, it's the vertical one

Z is for zero, because my list is now done.

-

Plant a Garden in My Heart
by Nastassja Carusetta
(9th Grade - South Pasadena High School, CA)

Wet sun shining
damp grass hushing
soggy dirt
wriggling worms.
Small, soft feet pad over smooth stones,
whooshing daisies.
Tiny fingers grabbing
at the handle of a red bucket,
hands scooping up the rich earth
of the garden.
Soft chilly breeze
rustling fine blond hair
big green eyes look up
into a welcoming face glowing with warmth.
A comforting arm
around shivering shoulders.
Little seeds
pour into a palm
falling into earth, from whence they came,
to grow
and bring life
into a garden.
That garden grows,
planted
seeds sown the first moment I saw you,
saw you helpless.
Soft tears fall
gently dropping
like the last sip
of water in a water can,
last drops for those flowers.
Scraped knees,
blood drips too,
mingling with the soft soil:
oozy and wet and muddy.
Hold a hand.
I'll hold yours.
Whisper “mama”
I'll be there forever.
With your garden in my heart.
You've given me life.

-

Silence
by Attiya Shah
(10th Grade - Stone Bridge High School, VA)

Silence tip-toes about, searching for an answer.
Footprints, captured in slushy crystals of wet ice begin to melt.
Slowly, they fade away leaving no evidence of their being.
Wind sings its familiar tune, sometimes whistling, sometimes howling,
Desperately searching for some place to go.
Answers hide in the footprints, melted to the ground.
They follow the songs of the wind, running by too quickly to ever be found.
Answers are everywhere.
Their cries can be heard, but are ignored.
They can be seen, but are never really noticed.

-

In Fear of Hope
by Attiya Shah
(10th Grade - Stone Bridge High School, VA)

Everyone is running.
Moving farther and farther away from the world,
Yet not getting closer and closer to anything.
The years become dusted and worn,
Left to do nothing but fade with time.
Absent from meaning and desire,
Dismissed—simply in fear of hope.

-

Beauty Deep Inside
by Sarah Bodkin
(6th Grade - Bosque Farms, NM)

Have you ever felt a sudden fear?
You look in the mirror and
You see a single tear rolling down
Your face.
Suddenly that fear turns to pride
Because maybe you failed
But you know you tried.
That fear turns to Beauty, deep inside

-

Hello Writing
by Eman
(5th Grade - Cold Spring Elementary, PA)

Hello Writing
Hello Writing! I am back again
with my 3 sensational senses.
I can see the creative juices flowing,
inside my head.
Yellow, orange, black or white pencils, dancing on my perfect page.
Everyone lighting up with
ideas, as if the room is getting brighter.

I can feel the exceptional excitement,
bubbling up inside me as if
I am going to burst. LIGHTBULB!!!
Life inside me is waking up writing,
all thanks to you.
I feel emotional,
sometimes about the things people write.

I can hear beautiful books rustling and everyone's pencils gliding across their
once colorless page.
I can see people getting up to sharpen their pencils
already, so eager to start.
Goodbye writing, my old best friend.
We had a wonderful time together.

-

Untitled
by Gracie
(3rd Grade - Cold Spring Elementary, PA)

                                     Hot tickly sand
                        Beautifully burns blowing
                          Carried by a short wind

-

If you want to find blue
by Gracie
(3rd Grade - Cold Spring Elementary, PA)

Peer at the breathtaking bright blue morning sky
Swish hush swish hush
Pick blue fresh blue berries with a juicy fill in your mouth
Whispering I’m juicy as can be.
You can drink or admire blue fresh glistening shiny water
gulp gulp with its cold taste and clear texture,
if you want to find blue.

-

Believe
by Sruthi Machina
(8th Grade - Sharon Middle School, MA)

When my heart is pounding out of my chest,
When my hands are trembling,
When my brain seems to be covered by a thick fog,
And it feels like the sky is about to fall down,
I take a deep breath, grab my guitar,
And take slow and steady steps up to the stage.
Hundreds of eyes staring at me,
Analyzing my every action, every move,
I take a seat and pull my pick out,
Ready to fall to what seems like my doom.

I play the first note hesitantly,
And stumble while playing the rest of the line.
I look into the audience,
Feeling like a rat in a ballroom,
Unwanted, despised, an absolute abomination.
I pause for a minute and start all over.
I look at the notes on the page,
Clear my head,
Listen for the sound the I love to hear,
And decide that I won’t be put down.

I play the next note confidently,
And feel the fear starting to creep up,
I push down and keep in entrenched.
The music flows as a smooth as melted chocolate
When I’m done, I take a proud bow,
And smirk at the people who didn't believe in me,
I stand there for a minute and then I hear it,
The loud applause, all directed at me.

-

Ocean
by Sareena Miley
(5th Grade - Louise Archer School, VA)

The Ocean.
Her vast waters reflect the light of the rising sun,
Radiate luminescence.

Ocean is cursed to serve the moon,
Her tides attack in anger, retreat in fear.
Her waters conceal hidden mysteries of wondrous sea life,
They cover up sunken ships and treasures of the past.

Ocean is a mystery.
Her currents and whirlpools are uncontrollable
Inside she is chaos radiating life and shadow.

She is a tempestuous enigma
Her liquid torrents show no mercy,
Her army of tsunamis seek to destroy the land.

When calm,
Her tranquil waters hide her fury
Her depths untouched and unknown.

At sunset her currents flow magenta,
Releasing her radiance into the world.

She is wild untamed… she is the ocean.

-

Hunting Party
by Rebecca Whitman
(9th Grade - Woodside Priory School, CA)

A hunting party on the horizon
Coming closer, preparing the attack
Ambles as prey with nowhere to run

Weak prey is the easiest to take
Numerous flaws result in effortless chances
Harming the vulnerable is best sport

They approach, licking their chops
Preening themselves for the ritual of hunt
Looking for the faults in their victim

Quick surround to prevent escape
Helpless dodges met with intimidation
Savor the attack, finish the remains
Pain is slow and slow is pain

The weak submits, the strong attack
The more damage, the more glory
For all to see, the fierce prevail
Safety in numbers succeeds

The alpha bites first
The sharpest teeth, the pointiest claws
Betas in quick succession
This is the way of the animal world

The pack abruptly leaves
Prey emerges
Backpack hanging low, jeans sagging down
Clawed, bitten, chewed
No one to bandage the wounds
Slowly, forlornly, the bullied child retreats

-

Silhouettes
by Catherine Mullen
(11th Grade - Agora Cyber Charter School, PA)

Winter's nigh in nightly streams,
Silver ripples, moonlight beams,
Blackness comes, takes the dreams,
Nothing here is what it seems.
Blades gleam bright, still take life,
Cheerful smiles do hide sore strife,
Sunlight warm, heats like knife,
Deceiving tunes from Satan’s fife
In the crowd alone you stand,
Torment from the trusted hand,
Snow blankets, kill the land,
All great nations will be sand.
Friends betray and walk away,
Oath is broken from their say,
Skills forgotten in the fray,
Darkness comes at end of day.
Blood is red as is the rose,
Cut trees cross to expose,
Love so great no one knows,
The soul from the body goes.
All of life is silhouettes,
Stilling all your vice-filled bets,
No room now for sore regret,
Death is now your amulet.

-

Welcome to High School
by Carlee
(9th Grade - Assumption HS, KY)

Where you meet new people, make new friends.
Welcome to high school
Where you learn new things about school and yourself.
Welcome to high school
Where you hear horrendous, happy, sometimes silly stories.
Welcome to high school
Where you deal with scary things and go through hard times.
Welcome to high school
Where time flies. Goodbye to high school.

-

White Dixie
by Hyung Ahn
(9th Grade - The Hill School, PA)

I raised Dixie high for everyone to see
The bars and stars flying triumphantly
Then the horrors of war hit me suddenly
And the flag fell to the blue coated thieves –

The flag, taken by Union rightfully won
Paraded on the field as a war token
The boys marched off to the prison camp beyond
Who suffered terribly, in ways best not spoken

And the war was lost to those same thieves –
Our boys marched home bedraggled and in poverty
The battles and losses lingered in their dreams
And no southern honor could conceal their despondency.

The vines climbed up to the Dixie Flag
The red and blue melted into the sun
And now all I see
Is the white flag that hinted of victory.

-

Infinite Space
by Kelly McGlynn
(11th Grade - Abington Friends School, PA)
Artwork by: John Fitzpatrick www.thejohnf.com

(click the image to zoom)

-

Eternal Bonds
by Caroline Dolt
(10th Grade - Assumption High School, KY)

Do you hear me?
Don't talk to strangers
Stay where I can see you
Listen when I call
And remember, I love you
Are you listening?
Please come back to me
My little girl is gone
She is never to come back
Replaced by someone new
I must wonder why
You don't think I love you
Do you understand?
Glowing in your beauty
No longer are you mine
Look away from me now
Tears on both our faces
All that I ask if for you to please
Remember how I love you
Do you remember?
You in your silent struggles
Fights in the night bring greater ghosts
Than I can conquer
Although I myself grow weary
Waiting for dawn
My love is patient
What do you say?
Now do you wish more than ever
To hear my voice and ask me questions
Yet no more can you hear me whisper
That I still love you evermore

-

Snowy Morning
by BlandfordD
(10th Grade - Assumption High School, KY)

My boots crunch as I truck through the snow
My feet sinking deep down with each step
A fluffy white blanket as far as I can see
Bare trees are covered with sparkling, sleek ice
Like a glazed doughnut.
The creek in the backyard, slowly freezing over
Looks like shining crystals.
Not a cloud in sight
The sky makes the snow seem even whiter.
The only sound is the wind
Quietly whistling the soft, sweet sounds of winter.

-

The Face
by Jenny
(10th Grade - Assumption High School, KY)

I remember
your face,
deep red and consumed with rage,
screeching at us,
while not one of us flinches.
We stand there with sweat,
where there should be tears, falling down our faces,
and look up
at your face.
That face,
usually dark and unemotional,
is now plastered
with disappointment, anger, and shame.
It's almost like years of your criticism built up inside of you,
burst like a dam, flooding our dreams with distaste.
We stand tall,
as you yell,
as you crush our spirits,
our hope.
Our little light
and thought of succeeding,
making you proud,
is quickly diminished,
like a lost fire in the night.
But we stand
and look at your face,
your now unrecognizable face,
as you sharply bid us goodbye.

-

Dew Drops
by Tulasi Nidamarthy
(6th Grade - Pottsgrove Middle School, PA)

Caused by mist in the night
Lit by golden sunlight
Each a gem carefully made
Each atop a grass blade
Soon they disappear into the sky
Just like a snap or a blink of an eye!

-

Blue is the Sea
by Julian Baranoski
(2nd Grade - Whitestone Training Center, AK)

Blue is the sea
What else could it be?
Blue is cold
And it’s not very bold,
But it makes me feel strong
Even though winter is long.
Blue is frozen with fear
Because of a warrior’s spear.
I can feel it when I’m scared.
Or when I know someone cares.
There is a bluebird off on the fly!
If there was no blue, would we have a sky?

-

Blue is a Fountain
by Casey Seeger
(2nd Grade - Whitestone Training Center, AK)

Blue are the tears
That fall when I’m sad.
Blue is safety
Protecting me from the bad.

Blue is icy and cold!
Blue is royalty
Like a king who is bold.
And helps me like my Dad

Blue is a fountain
That flows out of a mountain

-

Green is the Spring
by Nikolai Chavez
(2nd Grade - Whitestone Training Center, AK)

Green is the grass
Quiet and still.
Green is a tree
Up on a hill.
Green is the buzzing of a bee
That I hear through the window during class.
When the springtime flowers pop out.
Green makes me want to shout!

-

The Sun The Sun
by Mira Meles-Braverman
(1st Grade - Perelman Jewish Day School, PA)

Oh the sun, the sun
It shines so it can be.
But the hating part about it
Is when it shines at me

-

You Don't Have To Be Alone To Feel Lonely
by Bridget S.
(10th Grade - CB West HS, PA)

The time arrives when
one learns
there is nothing left to expect
nothing to believe in
and nothing can hurt
any longer.
Yet change is inevitable,
slipping past those
easiest to fool.

Vulnerability sets in,
though crying out is futile.
If somebody is to hear
and ask what is wrong,
how will the truth be spoken
as bravery once more
fails to surface?
The words are abandoned
and cannot fall from tainted lips.

Then,
one is let down
by the courage that had been
swallowed with pride,
and in shadows,
unseen,
there is only a mask.
One's face
Ones' voice,
the unbroken mold of a smile,
a phantom,
of what had once been.

Even so,
one is to find the will
at the base of a deadened heart
to carry on
or
to fool the change,
a masquerade
of what could be.

The shadows begin to part
as one emerges.
The mask is gone,
yet the smile remains,
still broken.
And that is what people see,
their pleasure unveiled
unlike the truth behind
one's darkened eyes.

And yet,
one of a battered spirit
cannot see the
dreams of change
or how people change,
high among the shifting
clouds,
at home in sorrow.

-

What Poetry Doesn't Know
by Rebecca Greenberg
(11th Grade - The Wheeler School, RI)

I like the idea of writing poems half-buried
in knee-high grass, the sun burnishing my back
and gilding my hair, a beetle scaling
a grass shaft and pausing at the top of the precipice
as if tasting a saline breeze, my toes untrammeled
by sandals, losing themselves in the earth,
dandelions and bluebells woven in my locks,
a long sedge stem dangling from my lips,
the whirring of thrushes regaling my ears.

The verses would come easily-
the meadow itself would exude poetry
and I'd pick the pollen-dusted metaphors
from their tendrils, drink the similes
swimming in the dewdrops,
and place them tenderly on the page.

I sink into tall grass dotted with buttercups,
a moleskin journal nestled in my hand.
I slide to the level of the grass roots
with the same liquid movements
as an otter gliding through a stream,
artfully arrange my skirt so that it exposes
my lower thighs and calves,
the skin appearing in patches of cream slashed
by tussock blades, my shoulders propped up,
the moleskin cradled between:
a fallen white-breasted bird.

Absorbing the impeccable lighting, the rich hues,
and conjuring up the image of myself-
a sylph in seductive solitude,
I do not see the earwigs
slip down my camisole until it is too late-
and the grass shafts prick and scratch my legs
with incessant vehemence, until I toss
and roil about under a broiling sun

so that at the end of my valiant perseverance,
the only tokens of my poetic outing are
prints of chlorophyll that poxed
the deflowered journal, and scratches inscribing
my thighs with verses of red crescents.

-

Winter
by Simon
(6th Grade - Wissahickon MS, PA)

Snowflakes dance to the ground like a ballerina
Elegantly twirling
Lying where they land
Linking together like a puzzle
In perpetual motion
Lying one on top of each other
Finally the last snowflake falls
Cascading to the ground in silence
Quiet as an awkward moment

-

Where the Sky Meets the Sea
by Christopher Leesang
(12th Grade - Miami Coral Park Sr HS, FL)

We rush across the ocean,
as winds chase the fading laughter
stroking soft tendrils through our hair
while the sun watches the pursuit—

delicious shards of warmth—
kisses our cheeks
already licked by salty waves.

We slice open the waters,
leaving vanilla milkshake in our wake,
and the lights dance like dolphins playing
in the excitement left behind.

The clouds fret with delight
while the fish sway to the surf
as we soar across the ocean
to where the sky meets the sea.

-

Everglades
by Christopher Leesang
(12th Grade - Miami Coral Park Sr HS, FL)

Basking in never-ending days,

listening to the voice of gods
song of gold fades, carried away
by wild wind, wisping dusk glaze
rocking the grass to and fro
putting emerald pond fronds into sway.
Sliver green blades bend in the haze
drawing dusk lights from shimmering mirror lake.

Silver glass glades glitter in sun-gaze.

-

Two Sides
by Douglas Scarboro
(8th Grade - John Paul the II Academy, KY)

Two sides to every story
In every day
In every day
The dark balances
Gripping and smooth
The Light of day
Shining and bright
Two sides to every story

-

Have You Ever?
by Steph Ko
(8th Grade - Arcola Intermediate School, PA)

Have you ever imagined?
Imagined a great beautiful place?
Filled with songs of birds,
Light, and love, and care.

Have you ever seen it?
Seen it deep down inside?
Where you know the song of your spirit,
Your real spirit resides.

Majestic tall birch trees,
Golden cascades of light,
Never ending perfection, golden sun to shine.

Have you ever felt it?
Felt the soft green grass?
Lush and soft and fluffy,
Grass and trees alike.

No one has ever seen it,
No one can ever find,
Because this world is filled with hatred,
Sadness and toughness too.
Never will this world be there,
So never expect its perfect world to spread and mix and share.

-

If the World Didn't Beat Me Down
by Steph Ko
(8th Grade - Arcola Intermediate School, PA)

If the world didn't beat me down,
I'd be singing away,
If the world didn't beat me down,
I'd be famous someday,
If the world didn't beat me down,
My heart would sing for joy,
If the world didn't beat me down,
My life would be something I'd enjoy,
If the world didn't beat me down,
I'd try to find what's true,
If the world didn't beat me down,
I'd be important to someone too.

-

My Family
(And that’s where the Ordinariness ends)
by Ari
(8th Grade - Allan A. Martin Senior School, Canada)

(And that’s where the Ordinariness ends)
My family, my family, not as jolly as can be
Our births were not given quite so happily.
My dad can read minds and always knows the time,
My brother, your (unique) voice, surely he could mime.
My mom, with her mind can lift up heavy things,
And me? - I’m me. Plus the four foot long wings.

-

Gone in Reality but Here in my Heart
by Anum Ilyas
(6th Grade - East Brook Middle School, NJ)

My heart stops thumping, I feel confused, don’t believe it’s true.
I know what he said,
And I know what just happened,
But I can’t handle the truth.
I want to escape from the feeling,
But it keeps coming back to me.
Why can’t I just forget about it and move on?
I’m a delicate vase that can easily shatter.
But I always come back together.

I felt permanently broken when my dad told me my grandfather had passed away.
But I always seem to feel like he’s still here;
Everyday, I always seem to hear him,
Hear his cheerful laugh when I acted silly.
Everyday, I always seem to see him,
See him smile whenever I hugged him.
Some people feel that he is gone,
But he’s still with me…
In my heart.

-

Portrait of Boy Scouts:
September 1951 Calendar
by Jackie McDermott
(11th Grade - The Linsly School, WV)

Pictures of stability-hard, steadfast future men
whose thick necks, strong faces,
and intense eyes staring toward the next page,
next month on the horizon-represent the image we will show
to the world.

As the arms race begins the storm brews just behind them.
Lightning could strike with no notice
in Southport, Saint Louis, Los Angeles,
Middletown, Baltimore.

Their eyes look to the future-but with one push of a button
there could be no future left to fight for.
It is dark, it is quiet, it is cold in this war
but they stand- some of many
ready to fight.

-

What Must Be Done
by Jackie McDermott
(11th Grade - The Linsly School, WV)

My mother's delicate, bony hand rests on her coffee mug,
her ring singing ping, ping, ping on its handle
with legs in gray slacks crossed behind her desk.
She holds a heavy stack of papers that keeps folding back.

The text on those pages is endless-these words need to be read.
Her phone is buzzing violently against the desk-her daughters need help.
The many buttons on her office phone flash red-her secretary needs answers.

The clients, the deeds, the leases, the acreage, the companies, the negotiations, the offers.

The daughters, the husband, the house, the cat, the meals, the repairs, the cleaning.

There is endless text to be read,
endless things to be done,

and endless distractions to keep her from doing them.

But somehow my mother sits at a gray desk inside a sparse light blue office with one filing cabinet and a few pictures
and holds it all together
The way a shiny silver staple holds together the pages of that lease-which will be handled on time.

-

The Night
by Emma White
(5th Grade - E.M.C. Elementary School, PA)

I am a simple girl
I sit outside and listen
trickle, trickle, trickle
goes the waterfall
the light of the fire
and hear crackle, crackle, crackle POP!
Fireflies float among us
the street light twinkles
the water in the pond glistens
and mosquitoes – smack!
The plants sway as the light wind
speaks and the wise old owl sits
in the old oak tree
but as for me, a simple girl,
I lie on a blanket and watch the stars
until day creeps upon us.

-

A Spring Drive Throught the Amish Countryside
by Nathan Lee
(6th Grade - Strath Haven Middle School, PA)

As I roll down the car window
To take in the countryside,
A donkey is out in the pasture
His ears pointy like steeples.
The stench of cow dung fills
My nose.
There are men and
Boys plowing the fertile fields;
An Amish woman sells shoo-fly Pies;
Tourists climb in horse
Buggies with orange and red
Triangles in the back for traffic;
A newborn goat learns how to
Walk with wobbly knees in his
Mother's presence.
An Amish Boy whizzes past on a bike near
Where a one-room schoolhouse Stood.
Now green blades break
Through mire to signal a return
Of spring life here in Nickel Mines.

-

Fibs I Told My Math Teacher
by Nathan Lee
(6th Grade - Strath Haven Middle Schoo, PA)

Last
Night's
Lightning
Multiplied
By power outage
Equals uncharged calculator
My
Life
After school
Divided
By soccer practice
Leaves no remaining homework time

-

Warning Cry
by Jori Bonaduer
(9th Grade - Whitney M. Young Magnet HS, IL)

I stand near a tree
in a wide forest of green
but with a twist of my wrist
the trunk starts to lean.

Leaves start to tremble
as they shiver and shake
then the towering giant falls
as if in a quake.

Not one person notices,
for they do the same.
This quick simple action
doesn't hold any shame.

Nor do they hear the sounds,
the cries of the lands.
How they whimper and whine
at the price of our hands.

Eyes are closed shut,
for they are so blind!
Though millions are homeless,
they don't seem to mind.

As long as they tower,
above all the rest
and their society is deemed
not better, but best.

They flick their wrists
in the forest, now small
and simply will wait until
they've made each tree fall.

The woods are now empty,
only an echo is heard
of the people who spoke
to try and spread word.

But please don't let
that voice be our last!
We can change our future
for we are the past.

-

The Bird
by Rithika
(6th Grade - Woodrow Wilson Middle School, NJ)

The crickets chirp
As the owl sings,
The soft breeze gently soothes me
The sweet fragrance of the flowers makes my nose shiver
In the midst of all of this beauty,
I sleep alone in my bed
I hear music in my ears
Flute vibrating around my walls
I fly spreading my wings and soaring throughout the dark blue sky
In days of summer I free myself from the clutches of my memories
On top of the cliff I land
And see the world
In a more beautiful way
The waterfall slowly trickling down the shiny rocks
The stream’s currents runs
Like rush hour
The trees all green are swaying to the rhythm of the wind
Slowly the leaves fall
Twirling like a ballerina
The colorful butterflies
Blue, red and purple
Flutter by and catches my eye
There is a big valley with a small sprouting pink flower
My dream home
I mumble
And wake up to see
Stuck in my cage
Waiting for that day to arrive...

-