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From the angry to the sentimental, it's all here: Haiku, sestinas Love poems, free verse and rhyme - We publish poets!

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More than 40,000 poems by contemporary and classic poets, including Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson, Sylvia Plath, Langston Hughes, Rita Dove, and more.

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“I still think she’s beautiful…”

That’s how “She’Cago", a poem by a teen writer named Izzy begins. It’s written with our city’s complex reputation and history in mind. Everything considered, she still sees Chicago as beautiful and redeemable. 

Izzy is one of many students connected with 826CHI, a non-profit creative writing, tutoring, and publishing center dedicated to amplifying the voices of Chicago youth. Demo Duck Lead Writer, Jarrett Hothan, volunteers for the organization, and had the idea of turning a student piece into a short video. Of course, we were excited and energized to offer our video services to bring a young writer’s vision to life and to elevate 826CHI’s mission.

The video is anchored by Izzy’s reading of the poem, rich with emotion and confidence. We’d like to thank Earhole Studios for graciously hosting Izzy and the 826CHI team for a fun and memorable recording session. 

Learn more about 826CHI’s mission and how to donate or volunteer: https://www.826chi.org/

Agency: Demo Duck
Producer: Jarrett Hothan
Art Director, Design & Storyboards: Rohan McDonald
Creative Lead: Colin Hogan 
Voiceover Recording: Earhole Studios 
Animator: Carolina Lopez Corominas 
Cel Animator: Rohan MacDonald
Sound Design: Sono Sanctus

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Legacies by Nikki Giovanni | Poetry Foundation

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her grandmother called her from the playground

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When The Water Is Gone by Rudy Francisco

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When The Water Is Gone by Rudy Francisco

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Rudy Francisco - "When the Water Is Gone"

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Phil Kaye // Repetition (Poetry Observed)

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I Am The People, The Mob by Carl Sandburg

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I Am The People, The Mob by Carl Sandburg

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Poetry In Voice 2016 winner Marie Foolchand recites at Griffin Poetry Prize awards ceremony

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scroll to the cartoon and use the arrows to read the poem

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g

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Hardcover

$16.99

Roaring Brook Press

Roaring Brook Press

ISBN: 9781250173720
40 Pages, Ages 0-

Black Girl, they say you ain't 'posed to be here
Much of what twenty-first century culture tells black girls is not pretty: Don't wear this; don't smile at that. Don't have an opinion; don't dream big. And most of all, don't love yourself. In response to such destructive ideas, internationally recognized poet Mahogany Browne challenges the conditioning of society by crafting an anthem of strength and magic undeniable in its bloom for all beautiful Black girls. She has travelled the world sharing her vision of Black Girl Magic, and now in collaboration with artist Jess X. Snow, presents her acclaimed tribute in a visual form.

Black Girl Magic is a journey from girlhood to womanhood and an invitation to readers to find magic in themselves.

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Mahogany L. Browne; illustrated by Jess X. Snow

Mahogany L. Browne is a California-born, Brooklyn based writer, educator, activist, mentor, and curator. She has published several books of poetry, and she is an Urban Word NYC Artistic Director (as seen on HBO's Brave New Voices), founder of Women Writers of Color Reading Room, Director of BLM@Pratt Programming, and facilitates performance poetry and writing workshops throughout the country.

Jess X. Snow is an artist, filmmaker, and poet. She holds a BFA from the Rhode Island School of Design, and her artwork has appeared in the LA Times, the Huffington Post, the UN Human Rights Council, and on indoor and outdoor walls throughout the U.S.

Mahogany L. Browne

Aaron Coury

Jess X. Snow

From the Publisher

Roaring Brook Press

g

$16.99

Roaring Brook Press

Roaring Brook Press

ISBN: 9781250173720
40 Pages, Ages 0-

MEDIA
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Aaron Coury

From the Publisher

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Black Girl Magic | Mahogany L. Browne | Macmillan

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g Hardcover $16.99 Roaring Brook Press Roaring Brook Press ISBN: 9781250173720 40 Pages, Ages 0- Black Girl, they say you ain't 'posed to be here Much of what twenty-first century culture tells black girls is not pretty: Don't wear this; don't smile at that. Don't have an opinion; don't dream big.

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Things We Carry on the Sea - We carry tears in our eyes: good-bye father, good-bye mother

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I catch sight of the man
on route to the mountain's summit.
He carries with him a recycled Coke bottle
secured to a small pack.

But the man also hefts his weight
inside a sweat-stained XXXL red tee shirt.
He's what I call a fat man--

a fat man who doesn't exercise,
a fat man who engulfs food,
a fat man who lives only to become fatter and fatter.

He turns at my approach
then drops his eyes
as they meet the expression in mine

I pass the fat man swiftly, with disgust,
wondering what could drive him
to attempt the summit.

When I glance back with this question in mind,
my eyes drop to the legend on the red tee shirt:
I'm hiking for the National Cancer Foundation

I caught sight of the man
on route to the mountain's summit.
He carried with him a recycled Coke bottle
secured to a small pack.

He was heading upward.
He was on a mission.

-Niall Janney

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I catch sight of the manon route to the mountain's summit.He carries with him a recycled Coke bottlesecured to a small pack. But the man also hefts his weightinside a sweat-stained XXXL red tee shirt.He's what I call a fat man-- a fat man who doesn't exercise,a fat man who engulfs food,a fat man who lives only to become fatter and fatter.

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The Border: A Double Sonnet by Albert Rios

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The Border: A Double Sonnet by Albert Rios

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CommonLit | The Border: A Double Sonnet | Free Fiction & Nonfiction Literacy Resources, Curriculum, & Assessment Materials for Middle & High School English Language Arts

Alberto Ríos is an author and poet. He was named Arizona's first state poet laureate in 2013 and held the position until 2015. In this poem, a speaker describes a border.

As you read, take notes on what the speaker compares the border to.

The border is a line that birds cannot see.

The border is a beautiful piece of paper folded carelessly in half.

The border is where flint[1] first met steel, starting a century of fires.

The border is a belt that is too tight, holding things up but
making it hard to breathe.

The border is a rusted hinge that does not bend.

The border is the blood clot in the river's vein. Q1

The border says stop to the wind, but the wind speaks another
language, and keeps going.

The border is a brand,[2] the "Double-X" of barbed wire scarred into
the skin of so many.

The border has always been a welcome stopping place but is now
a stop sign, always red.

The border is a jump rope still there even after the game is
finished.

The border is a real crack in an imaginary dam.

The border used to be an actual place, but now, it is the act of a
thousand imaginations.

The border, the word border, sounds like order, but in this place
they do not rhyme.

The border is a handshake that becomes a squeezing contest. Q2

The border smells like cars at noon and wood smoke in the
evening.

The border is the place between the two pages in a book where
the spine is bent too far.

The border is two men in love with the same woman.

The border is an equation in search of an equals sign.

The border is the location of the factory where lightning and
thunder are made.

The border is "NoNo" The Clown, who can't make anyone laugh.

The border is a locked door that has been promoted.[3] Q3

The border is a moat[4] but without a castle on either side.

The border has become Checkpoint Chale.[5]

The border is a place of plans constantly broken and repaired and
broken.

The border is mighty, but even the parting of the seas created a
path, not a barrier.

The border is a big, neat, clean, clear black line on a map that
does not exist.

The border is the line in new bifocals:[6] below, small things get
bigger; above, nothing changes.

The border is a skunk with a white line down its back. Q4

Copyright © 2015 by Alberto Ríos. Used with permission of the author.

Promote (verb): to support or actively encourage

1. a type of rock that can be used to create a spark

2. an identifying mark burned into the skin

3. Promote (verb): to support or actively encourage

4. a deep ditch filled with water that surrounds a castle or fort

5. a slang term in Spanish used to express disagreement

6. a pair of glasses with lenses that are divided into two parts

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CommonLit | The Border: A Double Sonnet | Free Fiction & Nonfiction Literacy Resources, Curriculum, & Assessment Materials for Middle & High School English Language Arts Alberto Ríos is an author and poet. He was named Arizona's first state poet laureate in 2013 and held the position until 2015.

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I Am NOT Black, You are NOT White by Prince Ea

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I Am NOT Black, You are NOT White by Prince Ea

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I Am NOT Black, You are NOT White (2025)

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My friend Zuckerberg, by Kevin McCaffrey

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Famous by Naomi Shihab Nye | Poetry Foundation

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We were only farm team
not "good enough" to
make big Little League
with its classic uniforms
deep lettered hats.
But our coach said
we were just as good
maybe better
so we played
the Little League champs
in our tee shirts
and soft purple caps.

What happened that afternoon
I can't remember-
if we won or tied.
But in my mind
I lean back
to a popup hanging
in a sunny sky
stopped
nailed to the blue
losing itself in a cloud
over second base
where I stood waiting.

Ray Michaud who knew
my up-and-down career
as a local player
my moments of graceful genius
my unpredictable ineptness
screamed arrows at me
from the dugout
where he waited to bat-
"He's gonna drop it! He
don't know how to catch,
you watch it drop!"

The ball kept lifting
higher, a black dot
no rules of gravity, no
brakes, a period searching
for a sentence, and the sentence read:
"You're no good Bill
you won't catch this one now
you know you never will."

I watched myself looking up
and felt my body rust
in pieces to the ground
a baby trying to stand up
an ant in the shadow of a house

I wasn't there
had never been born
would stand there forever
a statue squinting up
pointed out laughed at
for a thousand years
teammates dead, forgotten
bones of anyone who played baseball
forgotten
baseball forgotten, played no more
played by robots on electric fields
who never missed
or cried in their own sweat

I'm thirty one years old.
The game was over twenty years ago.
All I remember of that afternoon
when the ball came down

is that I caught it.

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Baseball Poem by Bill Zavatsky - Poem Hunter

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We were only farm teamnot "good enough" tomake big Little Leaguewith its classic uniformsdeep lettered hats.But our coach said we were just as goodmaybe betterso we playedthe Little League champsin our tee shirtsand soft purple caps.

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Trying to protect his student's innocencehe told them the Ice Age was really justthe Chilly Age, a period of a million yearswhen everyone had to wear sweaters.And the Stone Age became the Gravel...