Student Work

Leave me to this gore. Leave me to my pain. Leave my broken, shattered bones to be cleansed by acid rain. You won’t cut my sickly hair. You won't tear away my limbs. You won’t invoke your will on anything that I possess within. You are not my savior. You are not my end. You are one more attempt to break me when I will only bend. Cut away my dreams. Scrape away my peace. The earth will take my screams and turn them into trees. Stay away from my remains. Avoid my twisted fate

As October turns around the corner, the leaves turn red like i turn liquid. And i have discovered sterile school hallways characterize my smiles; my small talk has become second nature as my mind ponders rants I’ve categorized myself within. As October turns around the corner, the leaves turn orange like i turn liquid. the slope of my nose shines like my mother's. the crevices of my heels, cracked, like my father’s. that girl, from grade 2, who shared favorite songs with me

Life doesn’t always go the way we want, but somehow, it always leads us to where we’re meant to be. At first, we think kindness is enough, and that good intentions can save every bond. Then we learn— not everyone will understand our heart, and sometimes, distance is a form of peace. Life doesn’t apologize when it hurts us, nor explain when it changes us. It simply moves on, leaving quiet scars that remind us of who we used to be. We break to understand, we lose to appreciate,

peering in through frosted glass as you sit in a graveyard of cedar thrones chins held high, hammering a plastic gavel with fisted hand below you, The Table shakes is your highchair tall enough? if you could only see the angle I view you when I crane my neck up to look I am six feet under your gavel, facing the brunt of an unworldly violence I may not be able to see much past the window’s glare, but I can still see straight through you I can see how The Table, stilted, c

HEY BLACK CHILD DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE WHO YOU REALLY ARE Black child wonders does black child really know who black child really is she lives in a world that forgets her all the time that has reduced her to a mere story black child just wants to be noticed to be accepted black child does not understand why the world hates black child black child is scared to leave the comfort of home black child wants to live in safety but black child knows she is not the same but she want

Stoplight on 1st Ave and 2nd St Sun beating on the road, the cars, my face– the leftovers of summer’s wrath. Muggy air and midafternoon sun, cold air blowing from squeaking vents, a swirl of dizzying temperature. Slowing down, red light my command slotted into one lane over from the right I pause my mad dash home, seeing it neatly placed, upon head of tar speckled pavement and white paint lines. A crown, made of cardboard, lackluster yellow, luminated by sun’s hands reach

The last time I spoke to you, when our mouths had opened, we had just kissed. Now our mouths don't open even to speak to each other. In fact, the closest thing to speaking I get is seeing your smile in a mirror. So after that I tried to find someone new, and it's funny I do. But I can't look her in the eyes or any other girl. Because when I feel anything like that it's just for you. So I've stopped speaking entirely And I'm happy with that You're smiling in the mirror, and th

there’s nowhere like my family’s kitchen. there’s six of us - my mom my dad my brother my dog my cat and me we all have different lives and different stories are different loves and different hates and wants but the kitchen is where we meet we meet at the plant in the corner with a name i don’t know that i see my dad watering we meet at the spot on the counter where we feed our pets, eagerly sitting at our feet, breakfast and dinner every single day we meet at the stove, w

The poem I made is nothing Yes, literary, nothing! No words, no title, no rhythm, no metaphors Nothing but a single title What gives out something is odd Is it the time to say something Or no time of say a single rhyme The choice is on me The poem I made is nothing, Except one thing, that I am rhyming Without ever using a metaphor, Nor even a single rhyme to find a Perfect title to call my poem.

i can’t write poetry. i don’t have the intellectual capability. give me a line of poetry to read give me a line of poetry that’s up to my speed tell me something i already know, because we all know a blonde couldn’t make up something on her own this rhymes but this doesn’t is this how you write poetry? let me abide to the pattern of thought that others want for me and let me allow you to let a phrase leave your mouth so freely without worry without thought behind the words

The girl is in the car. She’s on the way home from school. Her phone is in her pocket. She looks out the window And wonders: Is he thinking of her? The boy is talking. He’s laughing with his friends. His phone is in his pocket. He stares into space And wonders: Is she thinking of him? And throughout the day, Four different thoughts over the time change. is she still asleep? is he already awake? is she still awake? is he already asleep? Their thoughts Entwined Holding on to on

It is July 5th in Halsey Hall Little blue ballerinas flit around the ancient building Far older than we can imagine Energy pulses in every nook of its sturdy wooden skeleton Our soft hands turn white as we grip the polished wood Because we still haven’t learned control A new piano plays an old song Still spry, it swirls around us As if caught in a slipstream And when we push open the windows Because Halsey doesn't have air-conditioning The music spills onto the street and da

We shared a love, both spicy and sincere The juicy nuggets like a gentle kiss With every bite, your warmth would reappear No truer touch — I never dreamed of this But Sundays, God commands you not to stay I don’t believe, yet still I have to fast Your warmth is blocked, our closeness gone astray Starved by the Sabbath, left to fade at last Your comfort fills my stomach and my heart A warmth I know I will truly cherish But faith has built a wall to keep us ‘part And in its sha

I wanted to be yours, but my emotions were getting the best of me I realized everything I said was because I was emotionally attached to you I wanted to be yours, but it can’t go back like it was before — I can’t wait here forever expecting you to open your eyes and see what’s in front of you I wanted to be yours, wear your last name — but the more I reached for it, the more it ran from me I wanted to feel love, but falling in love turned into sadness and anger to the point

In the happy green meadow Where sunlight falls in rays I think it's so pretty Yet I think only of your face The field turns solemn Just like my heart My head is angry Like it's tearing me apart Why do I love you so When I know it doesn't work I know It's incompatible And when it is, it hurts, And when I get happy, And I try to grow, I see that face in every place And then… it isn't so I wish I could kiss you But you’re so far And why oh why Do I leave my love door ajar For

I was falling. Drifting as the air carried me down. I remember being on the tree, surrounded by other tulip leaves. It was warm then. My stem had been steady against the tree, a sturdy connection between all tulip leaves. Slowly, it became weaker, withering and severing over time. And now I was falling. There was nothing special about it either. Hundreds of others fell with me. I wasn’t the first. I wasn’t the last. And when I finally hit the ground, it wasn’t what I exp

In dim-lit rooms where paper moons dissolve on tongues of fire, A painted world begins to bend around borrowed desires. Crystal comets kiss the world and flood the chest with light, But dawn collects their glitter remains, abandoned by the night. Green ghosts curl slow in amber air, soft sermons in the haze, Promising a peace in water that only ever strays. My mirror learns a thousand angelic masks, a soul was never meant, While outside waits a hollow world. glass walls and a

different. The rain today...feels As though more than a storm brewing. Tonight, the lightning will reach the earth like hands.

Silence. Oppressive. Stifling. Empty. Only because I am warmth of searing pain, cold branding iron on soul. Body constricts, vacuum sealed No room for me. Sounds a soothing balm vibrating through space, dyeing the water of my soul colors of pondering ripples eradicating silence. Sound waves bring the first fish swimming in and around my soul humming Hymns resonating with the first note. Vibrations paint the colors of the soul bouncing jellyfish in the sea

I feel the breeze amidst the branch lightly blowing my tip from side to side I watch from outside the neighbor’s home Each day when the sun rises, children run outside abandoning their summer flip flops and T-shirts for wool sweaters and jackets That’s when I know the new season has fallen As September approaches my vibrant green layers become tints of red and yellow My fellow squirrel friends find haven below me September then turned into October with my yellow featu