# data[].attributes.body
Justin Lemaster

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To the Foot from the Child by Pablo Neruda

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To the Foot from the Child by Pablo Neruda

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Kalle Julian
A child's foot doesn't know it's a foot yet

And it wants to be a butterfly or an apple

But then the rocks and pieces of glass,

the streets, the stairways

and the roads of hard earth

keep teaching the foot that it can't fly,

that it can't be a round fruit on a branch.

Then the child's foot

was defeated, it fell

in battle,

it was a prisoner,

condemned to life in a shoe.

Little by little without light

it got acquainted with the world in its own way

without knowing the other imprisoned foot

exploring life like a blind man.

Those smooth toe nails

of quartz in a bunch,

got harder, they changed into

an opaque substance, into hard horn

and the child's little petals

were crushed, lost their balance,

took the form of a reptile without eyes,

with triangular heads like a worm's.

And they had callused over,

they were covered

with tiny lava fields of death,

a hardening unasked for.

But this blind thing kept going

without surrender, without stopping

hour after hour.

One foot after another,

now as a man,

or a woman,

above,

below,

through the fields, the mines,

the stores, the government bureaus,

backward,

outside, inside,

forward,

this foot worked with its shoes,

it hardly had time

to be naked in love or in sleep

one foot walked, both feet walked

until the whole man stopped.

And then it went down

into the earth and didn't know anything

because there everything was dark,

it didn't know it was no longer a foot

or if they buried it so it could fly

or so it could

be an apple.

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the flight of youth by Richard Henry Stoddard

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the flight of youth by Richard Henry Stoddard

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There are gains for all our losses,
There are balms for all our pain:
But when youth, the dream, departs,
It takes something from our hearts,
And it never comes again.

We are stronger, and are better,
Under manhood's sterner reign:
Still we feel that something sweet
Followed youth, with flying feet,
And will never come again.

Something beautiful is vanished,
And we sigh for it in vain:
We behold it everywhere,
On the earth, and in the air,
But it never comes again.

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Hailey Cepeda

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damasked, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.

# data[].attributes.body
you open your eyes
you see the love of your life
a journey begins

# data[].attributes.body
Is anybody happier because you passed his way?
Does anyone remember that you spoke to him today?
This day is almost over, and its toiling time is through;
Is there anyone to utter now a kindly word of you?

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Take Time by Liam Porter (melissa hernandez)

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Take Time by Liam Porter (melissa hernandez)

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Take time for now.
This is the only moment you are sure of.
Take time for friends.
They will help you through the very worst days.
Take time for family.
You will miss them immeasurably, when they are gone.
Take time for work.
But don't let work. take all your time.
Take time to laugh.
Laughter raises spirits and lifts the gloom.
Take time for music.
It will feed your soul and bring you joy.
Take time for exercise,
You have one body, and you should look after it well.
Take time for you.
For if you keep dividing yourself, what will be left?
Take time to understand.
That we cannot save time.
We can just try to use it wisely.
Take time to live.

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Untitled (Rupi Kaur- Submitted by Paige Kennedy)

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Untitled (Rupi Kaur- Submitted by Paige Kennedy)

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Most importantly love,
Like it's the only thing you know how.
At the end of the day all this
Means nothing.
This page,
Where you're sitting,
your degree,
your job,
the money,
Nothing even matters
Except love and human connection,
Who you loved,
And how deeply you loved them,
How you touched the people around them,
And how much you gave them.

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I Dream a World by Langston Hughes (Submitted by Kai Sawyer-Harris)

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I Dream a World by Langston Hughes (Submitted by Kai Sawyer-Harris)

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I dream a world where man
No other will scorn,
Where love will bless the earth
And peace its paths adorn.
I dream a world where all
WIll know sweet freedom's way,
Where greed no longer saps the soul
Nor avarice blights our day.
A world I dream where black or white,
Whatever race you be,
Will share the bounties of the earth
And every man is free,
Where wretchedness will hang its head,
And joy, like a pearl,
Attend the needs of all mankind
Of such I dream---
Our world!

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I have named you queen.
There are taller than you, taller.
There are purer than you, purer.
There are lovelier than you, lovelier.
But you are the queen.

When you go through the streets
No one recognizes you.
No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks
At the carpet of red gold
That you tread as you pass,
The nonexistent carpet.

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Time will either
Heal you or kill you

So if you’re reading this
You are healing

I promise.

-bridgett devoue

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Southern Heat

Rockin' on the front porch
Gazin' down the street
Loathsomely fannin'
Away the Southern Heat

Oppressed hands
Pickin' the days toils
Balmy and wet
Southern Heat never spoils

Whisky bottles bourbon brown
Deep fired and syrupy sweet
Vices to die for
Welcomin' Southern Heat

Clothes pinned on a line
Flappin' in dense air
Mamma starched ‘em stiff
The Southern Heat dressed debonair

There is a trouble around
It smile’s with a firm handshake
Jesus in Confederate Grey
The Southern Heat for the Devils sake.

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IF By Rudyard Kipling (Submitted By Matteo Ramazzini)

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IF By Rudyard Kipling (Submitted By Matteo Ramazzini)

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If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/if-by-rudyard-kipling

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Written by: John Hansen
"In the good old days,"
The old man said,
"Oh, I remember it well.

Life moved slow
This I know,
And women spoiled their men.

Kids wandered and played
Farther away,
Without any dangers considered.

Discipline was a smack,
Kid's didn't talk back.
They respected their elders back then.

Overseas wars were fought,
But scarce raised a thought.
The world seemed much bigger back then.

Distractions were few,
TV was new.
Families spent more time together.

There were no computers,
Fewer commuters.
More people worked on the land.

"Fast food" not a term yet,
Except on a jet,
And very few people obese.

We all played a sport,
On a field or a court.
We didn't need hours in the gym.

Teens went to the drive-in
In trunks smuggled in.
Some watched the movie, more smooched.

Those were the years,"
He held back the tears,
"Oh, I wish I was your age again."

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Driving through the clouds
Swimming like a humming bird
I don't wanna say goodbye
I just wanna stay all night

Inside the crashing waves
Sleeping like grizzly bear
I don't wanna take it slow
I just wanna dance all night

Take me back in time
When I listened to sublime
Missing everything
I'm coming home

To California
Our worries make no sense
Colors are sky blue
Singing in my view
Young and wild

To California
Where people make freedom
Colors are sky blue
Singing in my view
Young and wild

Peaceful melody
Take it in as destiny yeah
Maybe we won't make it far
So enjoy it while we last

Living in the moment
Life is more than
Small little things
You know
Starting bonfires on the beach
With the sun going down
Chilling with the friends
That always got my back

To California
Our worries make no sense
Colors are sky blue
Singing of my view
Young and wild

To California
Where people make no fence
Colors are sky blue
Singing in my view
Young and wild

You know
Happiness is easy to achieve
Sleeping all day
Eating all night
Oh love is something
Good for us to share
Oh yes the joy it brings

To California
Our worries make no sense
Colors are sky blue
Singing of my view
Young and wild

To California
Where people make no fence
Colors are sky blue
Singing in my view
Young and wild

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Still I Rise (submmited by Fatima Conteh)

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Still I Rise (submmited by Fatima Conteh)

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Still I Rise

BY MAYA ANGELOU

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

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I am simply me By Mercedes( Submitted by Justin Murray) 

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I am simply me By Mercedes( Submitted by Justin Murray) 

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My life is fairly bland,
but it belongs to me.
i’m not popular,
but my friends are more than enough.
i tend to be impulsive
saying and doing what i want when i want.
I can hide my emotions,
better than anyone i know.
I fight, dance and destroy
standing up for what i believe in.
i have no tolerance for the rude,
or the racist and homophobic.
i won’t admit my faults but,
i do know i make mistakes.
i am the sunrise after a sleepless night, blinding your eyes.
if my life was a play list,
it’s be filled with acoustic songs.
it would be boring, but it would be me.
Dear Juliet, i'm no Romeo;
im simply me.

# data[].attributes.body
written by: Paul Holmes
JANUARY
Delightful display
Snowdrops bow their pure white heads
To the sun's glory.

FEBRUARY
Fresh green buds appear
Indicating spring will soon
Energize us all.

MARCH
Lambs gambol in fields
Frisky with the joys of life
Bleating happily.

APRIL
Bluebells stand so proud
Beneath trees so sparsely dressed
Fresh green leaves unfold.

MAY
Much awaited sound
Echoes heard amid dense trees
Cuckoo has arrived.

JUNE
Parks and gardens burst
With sounds and vibrant colours
Perfect harmony.

JULY
Beaches become full
Of families having fun
In sand and big waves.

AUGUST
Ripe golden harvest
Burning sun in azure skies
Labours rewarded.

SEPTEMBER
Swallows congregate
On telephone wires ready
To migrate down south.

OCTOBER
Red and gold leaves fall,
Crunchy as cornflakes beneath
Feet on a crisp morn.

NOVEMBER
Frosty webs sparkle
In the early morning sun
Brightly bejeweled.

DECEMBER
First few flakes of snow
Dust gardens like icing on
A chocolate cake.
submitted by nia sykes

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"Silence of the Lane" by Patricia Tsouros (submitted by Julian Cobb)       

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"Silence of the Lane" by Patricia Tsouros (submitted by Julian Cobb)       

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The dogs chasing the late autumn leaves
Fluttering down the lane way
The sound of the train as it passes by
Peaceful afternoon walk
The cottage walls and porches
Flourish of colour
Enwreathed with ivy green
Bellflowers, hollyhocks, hydrangea
Scents of lavender and sage
Evoke
Memories of childhood days
Visiting grandparents cottages
One in the Irish Wicklow mountains
The other in the suburbs of Athens city
The free flowing sound of the river
Smoke billowing from chimneys
The cottages have no pretense or grandeur
Just a sanctuary of comfort in the silence of the lane
Reaching the darkest corner of the soul

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The Quiet And Mellow Self                                 A Poem by brooke                  Whose self is that? I think I know.Its owner is quite happy though.Full of joy like a vivid rainbow,I watch her laugh. I cry hello.                                She gives her self a shake,And laughs until her belly aches.The only other sound's the break,Of distant waves and birds awake.The self is quiet, mellow and deep,But she has promises to keep,After cake and lots of sleep.Sweet dreams come to her cheap.She rises from her gentle bed,With thoughts of happiness in her head,Ready for the day ahead.    

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The Quiet And Mellow Self                                 A Poem by brooke                  Whose self is that? I think I know.Its owner is quite happy though.Full of joy like a vivid rainbow,I watch her laugh. I cry hello.                                She gives her self a shake,And laughs until her belly aches.The only other sound's the break,Of distant waves and birds awake.The self is quiet, mellow and deep,But she has promises to keep,After cake and lots of sleep.Sweet dreams come to her cheap.She rises from her gentle bed,With thoughts of happiness in her head,Ready for the day ahead.    

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It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea—

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

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"Lines on the Antiquity of Microbes" (Fleas) by Strickland Gillilan 

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"Lines on the Antiquity of Microbes" (Fleas) by Strickland Gillilan 

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submitted by Pete Chan

Adam
Had 'em

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A grub in filth is dirty, but it changes into a cicada and sips dew in the autumn breeze. Rotting plants have no luster, but they turn into foxfire and glow in the summer moonlight. So we know that purity emerges from impurity, and light is born from darkness.

- Zicheng Hong

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Memory Album by John P. Read (Submitted by Tanan Udomtanapaiboon)

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Memory Album by John P. Read (Submitted by Tanan Udomtanapaiboon)

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Memories are life's special moments
Borrowed from the passing of time.
Ghosts and shadows from bygone days,
Etched, and stored inside our mind.

Our minds are a memory album
Where the past and present meet,
Memories we lovingly cling to
That make the heart skip a beat.

Some we would like to forget.
Some we love to treasure.
Some memories become precious gifts
That live on forever and ever.

Yes, memories are precious moments,
And I have quiet a few,
The memories I treasure the most
Are those I made with you

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/memories-album

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the universe took its time on you

crafted you precisely

so you could offer the world

something distinct from everyone else

so when you doubt

how you were created

you doubt an energy greater than us both
- rupi kaur

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Yeah, does anybody feel like me?
Show of hands, I don't need a lot, I just wanna find my peace
Yeah, why you throwin' rocks, oh, you wanna kill my dreams?
Okay, tell me everything I'm not
You think I didn't know those things?
Always been a little lost and I still might be
Life's hard, but it's okay
Watchin' the comments feels like I'm at a court date
How could I complain
With a house like this and a car like that in the driveway?
Half of what I say
Kinda feels like a dream that I'm gonna wake from someday
Wishin' that I'd pray
A little more often and put more time into my faith
Travel in my brain, woo, might find damage and no grace

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I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass …

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Tiger Tiger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tiger Tiger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

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(submitted by brithney zapata)
Life may not let me choose my lot,
But whether I'd be happy or not...
That is my choice.

To leave hurtful memories behind
Or allow them to bother my mind...
The choice is mine.

To fret over a mistake when it's done
Or learn from it and move on...
The choice is mine.

To be bothered by all that people say
Or ignore them and go my own way...
The choice is mine.

To hide my feelings, pent up, unspoken,
Or say my mind and ease the burden...
The choice is mine.

To enjoy what I've been able to gain
Or ungratefully regard it with disdain...
The choice is mine.

Sometimes I won't get to pick my lot,
But whether I'll be happy or not
Will always be my choice.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-choice-is-mine

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I thought I was a poet who had a pen of gold With clear access to writing that was mature and bold. I thought I could go roaming beside the foaming sea And watch the seagulls gliding to give a show for free. I thought I was a poet who walked along the beach In awe I stood and wondered, my hand stretched out to reach The silver thread dividing the water from the sky And traced Selena’s features as slowly she went by. I thought I was a poet who knew what joy could be On hearing water roaring cascading down with glee. I looked for inspiration, experienced utmost thrill When climbing down the valley or up the verdant hill. I thought I was a poet in charge of heat and cold But lost my true emotions when I was duped and told I had to reach perfection to please my heart and mind By means of imitation. My soul I left behind. I thought I was a poet who had a pen of gold But now all of a sudden I’m weary, frail and old. I thought I was a poet. My pen is of no use. With teary eyes I whisper to my dejected muse.

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what is the greatest lesson a women should learn

"that since day one
shes already had everything she needs within herself
it's the world that convinced her she did not"

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Into The Abyss - Poem by Seemeen Khan Yousufzai

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Into The Abyss - Poem by Seemeen Khan Yousufzai

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There are deep abysses
In my mind.
Each abyss filled with
A whirlpool of thoughts, memories and senses;
Each abyss actively reliving
The whirlpool of thoughts, memories and senses.
I sometimes fear,
Sometimes long
For that day to come
When I might stumble and fall
Into one of the recesses of my mind
And get pulled and lost
In the quagmire of my mind.

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Gardner by Shel Silverstein By iban christensen

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Gardner by Shel Silverstein By iban christensen

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"We gave you a chance to water the plant.
We didn't mean that way-
Now zip up your pants."

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Nothing Gold can stay by Robert frost- Grace Chaney

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Nothing Gold can stay by Robert frost- Grace Chaney

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Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

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Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.

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The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost posted by Casey Funk

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The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost posted by Casey Funk

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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

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Do not go gentle into that goodnight by Dylan Thomas 

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Do not go gentle into that goodnight by Dylan Thomas 

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Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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ode to an encyclopedia by james arthur (submitted by ethan martinez)

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ode to an encyclopedia by james arthur (submitted by ethan martinez)

# data[].attributes.body
O hefty hardcover on the built-in shelf in my parents’ living room,
O authority stamped on linen paper, molted from your dust jacket,
Questing Beast of blue and gold, you were my companion

on beige afternoons that came slanting through the curtains
behind the rough upholstered chair. You knew how to trim a sail
and how the hornet builds a hive. You had a topographical map

of the mountain ranges on the far side of the moon
and could name the man who shot down the man
who murdered Jesse James. At forty, I tell myself

that boyhood was all enchantment: hanging around the railway,
getting plastered on cartoons; I see my best friend’s father
marinating in a lawn chair, smiling benignly at his son and me

from above a gin and tonic, or sitting astride his roof
with carpentry nails and hammer, going at some problem
that kept resisting all his mending. O my tome, my paper brother,

my narrative without an ending, you had a diagram of a cow
broken down into the major cuts of beef, and an image
of the Trevi Fountain. The boarding house,

the church on the corner: all that stuff is gone.
In winter in Toronto, people say, a man goes outside
and shovels snow mostly so that his neighbors know

just how much snow he is displacing. I’m writing this
in Baltimore. For such a long time, the boy wants
to grow up and be at large, but posture becomes bearing;

bearing becomes shape. A man can make a choice
between two countries, believing all the while
that he will never have to choose.

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1. Speckled Trout

Water-flesh gleamed like mica:
orange fins, red flankspots, a char
shy as ginseng, found only
in spring-flow gaps, the thin clear
of faraway creeks no map
could name. My cousin showed me
those hidden places. I loved
how we found them, the way we
followed no trail, just stream-sound
tangled in rhododendron,
to where slow water opened
a hole to slip a line in,
and lift as from a well bright
shadows of another world,
held in my hand, their color
already starting to fade.

— Ron Rash

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Still Here- Langston Hughes submitted by Asia Gilbert

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Still Here- Langston Hughes submitted by Asia Gilbert

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I been scarred and battered.
My hopes the wind done scattered.
Snow has friz me,
Sun has baked me,

Looks like between 'em they done
Tried to make me

Stop laughin', stop lovin', stop livin'--
But I don't care!
I'm still here!

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/still-here-by-langston-hughes

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“you tell me to quiet down cause my opinions make me less beautiful but i was not made with a fire in my belly so i could be put out i was not made with a lightness on my tongue so i could be easy to swallow i was made heavy half blade and half silk difficult to forget and not easy for the mind to follow”
― Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey

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I say alone we stand, together we fall apart
Yeah, I think I'll be alright
I'm working so I won't have to try so hard
Tables, they turn sometimes

Oh, someday
Now I ain't wasting no more time

Trying, trying

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Lifeless you are
Lifeless you stand
Lifeless you lay
With every word i speak
Lifeless you listen
Lifeless you ponder
With every step I take
Lifeless you watch
Lifeless you smile
With every pain experienced
Lifeless you understand
Lifeless you consult
With every number changing
Lifeless you cry
Lifeless your Happy
With every death you see
Lifeless you grieve
Lifeless you praise
Lifeless you are

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life’s little, our heads

sad. Redeemed and wasting clay

this chance. Be of use.

Posted by Foster Hord

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85 Within [the Light’s] depths I saw gathered together, Bound by love into a single volume, Pages that lie scattered through the universe. Substance and accidents and their relations I saw as though they fused in such a way 90 That what I say is but a gleam of light. The universal pattern of this knot I believe I saw, because in telling this, I feel my gladness growing ever larger. One moment made more slip my memory than 95 Twenty-five centuries robbed from the adventure That awed Neptune with the shadow of the Argo.1 So my mind, held in absolute suspense, Was staring fixed, intent, and motionless, And by its staring grew the more inflamed. 100 Within that Light a person is so changed It is impossible to give consent Ever to turn from it to other sights Because the Good, the object of the will, Is gathered all in it, and outside of the Light 105 What there is perfect is flawed [outside of the Light]. Now shall my telling of what I remember Fall far below the babbling of a baby Still bathing its tongue at the mother’s breast. Not that there is more than a single semblance 110 Within that living Light on which I looked And which is always what it was before, But by the sight that gathered strength in me As I gazed on, what was One in appearance Was altering for me as I was changing. 115 In the profound and shining-clear Existence Of the deep Light appeared to me three circles 1 So much information passed before Dante’s mind while peering into the Light that it was like the information lost when a story, such as the story of Neptune and Argo, is told 2,500 years later as a myth. Of one dimension and three different colors. One seemed to be reflected by the other, Rainbow by rainbow, while the third seemed fire 120 Breathed equally from one and from the other. O how pale now is language and how paltry For my conception! And for what I saw My words are not enough to call them meager. O everlasting Light, you dwell alone 125 In yourself, know yourself alone, and known And knowing, love and smile upon yourself! That middle circle which appeared in you To be conceived as a reflected light, After my eyes had studied it a while, 130 Within itself and in its coloring Seemed to be painted with our human likeness So that my eyes were completely focused on it. As the geometry specialist who sets himself To square the circle2 and who cannot find, 135 For all his thought, the principle he needs, Just so was I on seeing this new vision I wanted to see how our image fuses Into the circle and finds its place in it, And my own wings were far too weak for that. 140 But then my mind was struck by light that flashed And, with this light, received what it had asked. Here force failed my high fantasy; but my desire and will were moved already—like a wheel revolving uniformly 145 By the Love that moves the sun and the other stars

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Not Tonight but Tomorrow by Miguel Algarin 

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Not Tonight but Tomorrow by Miguel Algarin 

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submitted by Daria Birangi Not tonight but tomorrow

when the light turns the peach

tree green and the Earth sprouts

its young leaves looking to repeat

the magical mystery tour of

photosynthetic conversion of light

and moisture into life—

Not tonight but tomorrow

when my body will have shed

its fear of turning old and soft

will I turn my speeding mind

into the tunnels of your psyche

to melt the calcium that constipates

your synapses into a lubricating powder—

Not tonight but tomorrow

when the Universe moves on

beyond the field of action

that is the Earth to me and you

will I discover the interplanetary clues

that signal the roots of my moment to you—

Not tonight but tomorrow

will I throw my feelings into

New York streets to stew

in the violence and despair

of our planet—

Not tonight but tomorrow

will the Earth turn green again.

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wherever you go carry happiness with you

# data[].attributes.body
Come home and lie in bed
Thinking if it was my fault?
Dizzy night, looking at the clock
Soon it will be midnight
Will something be different?
It wont be something like that
But this day will be over
When the minute and second hands overlap
The world holds its breath for a little while
Zero o'clock
( Submitted by Estefany Pedroza)

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You are the sun that shines brightly throughout my day.
You are the gravity that holds me down in every way.
You are the moon that shimmers throughout my night.
You are stars that glimmer oh so bright.

You are the oxygen that keeps me alive.
You are my heart that beats inside.
You are the blood that flows through me.
You are the only guy I can see.
You have the voice of when a mockingbird sings.
You are my everything.

You are my one and only.
You stop me from being so lonely.
We plan our future as if we have a clue.
I never want to lose you.
I want you to be my husband, and I want to be your wife.
I want to be with you for the rest of my life.

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In Sleeping Beauty's castle
the clock strikes one hundred years
and the girl in the tower returns to the world .
So do the servants in the kitchen, who don't even rub their eyes.
The cook's right hand, lifted an exact century ago,
completes its downward arc to the kitchen boy's left ear;
the boy's tensed vocal cords
finally let go
the trapped,enduring whimper,
and the fly, arrested mid-plunge
above the strawberry pie,
fulfills its abiding mission
and dives into the sweet, red glaze.

As a child I had a book
with a picture of that scene.
I was too young to notice
how fear persists. and how
the anger that causes fear persists,
that its trajectory can't be changed
or broken, only interrupted.
My attention was on the fly;
that this slight body
with its transparent wings
and lifespan of one human day
still craved its particular share
of sweetness, a century later

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You Will Never See Me Fall: By  Joyce Alcantara 

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You Will Never See Me Fall: By  Joyce Alcantara 

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Submitted By Joseph Hamdan
You may see me struggle,
but you won't see me fall.
Regardless if I'm weak or not,
I'm going to stand tall.
Everyone says life is easy,
but truly living it is not.
Times get hard,
people struggle
and constantly get put on the spot.
I'm going to wear the biggest smile,
even though I want to cry.
I'm going to fight to live,
even though I'm destined to die.
And even though it's hard
and I may struggle through it all,
you may see me struggle...
but you will NEVER see me fall.

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#7 on top 500 poets

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Poems by Shel Silverstein : 157 / 224

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Smart - Poem by Shel Silverstein

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My dad gave me one dollar bill
'Cause I'm his smartest son,
And I swapped it for two shiny quarters
'Cause two is more then one!
And then I took the quarters
And traded them to Lou
For three dimes-- I guess he didn't know
That three is more than two!
Just then, along came old blind Bates
And just 'cause he can't see
He gave me four nickels for my three dimes,
And four is more than three!
And I took the nickels to Hiram Coombs
Down at the seed-feed store,
And the fool gave me five pennies for them,
And five is more than four!
And I went and showed my dad,
And he got red in the cheeks
And closed his eyes and shook his head--
Too proud of me to speak!

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(submitted by Laila Markham)
Stay, I said

to the cut flowers.

They bowed

their heads lower.

Stay, I said to the spider,

who fled.

Stay, leaf.

It reddened,

embarrassed for me and itself.

Stay, I said to my body.

It sat as a dog does,

obedient for a moment,

soon starting to tremble.

Stay, to the earth

of riverine valley meadows,

of fossiled escarpments,

of limestone and sandstone.

It looked back

with a changing expression, in silence.

Stay, I said to my loves.

Each answered,

Always.

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A Dream Within a Dream-BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

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A Dream Within a Dream-BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

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Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow —

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand —

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep — while I weep!

O God! Can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

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The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there's the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey--
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter--
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover--
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

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By Mayme White Miller
(Submitted by Kristen Castilleja)

If things go bad for you
And make you a bit ashamed
Often you will find out that
You have yourself to blame

Swiftly we ran to mischief
And then the bad luck came
Why do we fault others?
We have ourselves to blame

Whatever happens to us,
Here is what we say
"Had it not been for so-and-so
Things wouldn't have gone that way."

And if you are short of friends,
I'll tell you what to do
Make an examination,
You'll find the faults in you...

You are the captain of your ship,
So agree with the same
If you travel downward
You have yourself to blame

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(Submitted by Heidi H.)
Oh, I will embrace you like in your dreams
Oh, it's a secret spec
For you, every day I'll be new
It's not fun to stay the same all the time
Mix the colors in the palette, pick your filter
Which me do you want?
To change your world, I'm your filter
Overlay me in your heart

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Burn the noting
From the night away
Fear in the million
From the dark comes the gray
Burn the noting
From the night away
Burn the writing
Friends and I away

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...And to those I love, thanks for sticking around - $B

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...And to those I love, thanks for sticking around - $B

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Take me home
Take me home
It's the one place I can rest in peace
Turn off my phone
So many messages I wish I could just delete
Questioning my existence
Questioning my decisions
Burning down all the bridges
Dig a moat
Now I'm finished
Sorry don't want you to visit, no, no
One last pic and I'll be gone
Make it count
Put the flash on
Never really felt like I belonged
So I'll be on my way
And I won't be long
I'll be dead by dawn
I'll be dead by dawn
I'll be dead by dawn
I'll be dead by dawn

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Try, Try Again by William Edward Hickson

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Try, Try Again by William Edward Hickson

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It's a lesson you should heed,
Try, try again.

If at first you don't succeed,
Try, try again.

Then your courage should appear,
For if you will persevere,
You will conquer, never fear,
Try, try again.

Once or twice, though you should fail,
Try, try again.

If you would at last prevail,
Try, try again.

If we strive, 'tis no disgrace,
Though we do not win the race;
What should you do in that case?
Try, try again.

If you find your task is hard,
Try, try again.

Time will bring you your reward,
Try, try again.

All that other folk can do,
Why, with patience, should not you?
Only keep this rule in view,
Try, try again.

Submitted by Wyatt Montgomery.

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Earth rais'd up her head,

From the darkness dread & drear.

Her light fled:

Stony dread!

And her locks cover'd with grey despair.

Prison'd on watry shore

Starry Jealousy does keep my den

Cold and hoar

Weeping o'er

I hear the Father of the ancient men

Selfish father of men

Cruel, jealous, selfish fear

Can delight

Chain'd in night

The virgins of youth and morning bear.

Does spring hide its joy

When buds and blossoms grow?

Does the sower?

Sow by night?

Or the plowman in darkness plow?

Break this heavy chain,

That does freeze my bones around

Selfish! vain!

Eternal bane!

That free Love with bondage bound.

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It's a lesson you should heed,
Try, try again.

If at first you don't succeed,
Try, try again.

Then your courage should appear,
For if you will persevere,
You will conquer, never fear,
Try, try again.

Once or twice, though you should fail,
Try, try again.

If you would at last prevail,
Try, try again.

If we strive, 'tis no disgrace,
Though we do not win the race;
What should you do in that case?
Try, try again.

If you find your task is hard,
Try, try again.

Time will bring you your reward,
Try, try again.

All that other folk can do,
Why, with patience, should not you?
Only keep this rule in view,
Try, try again.

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Submitted by: Daisy Prince
(Part 1)

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,

And what I assume you shall assume,

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,

I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,

Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same,

I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,

Hoping to cease not till death.

Creeds and schools in abeyance,

Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,

I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard,

Nature without check with original energy.

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It was a singles cruise but it wasn’t a singles cruise:

each participant simulated detachment but none

was actually single. Some, like the recently widowed,

were attached to ghosts. Others were legally attached

to a living person they once but no longer loved.

A surprising number loved their partners profoundly

while fearing said partners inhabited the category

of those who loved them no longer. These participants,

whose fears may or may not have been founded,

attempted to self-protect by labeling themselves single.

Soon a pattern emerged: those who feared abandonment

developed around them a planetary-like orbit

of potential new partners to whom they could not attach

because they were already attached. Such orbits lasted,

sometimes, for years. The orbiters went to self-help groups

and/or analysts and/or wrote letters to advice columnists.

Because they could not detach from their objects of unrequited

affection, they became the predominant clientele for future

singles cruises, unilaterally sustaining the singles cruise business.
Submitted by: Raven Martin

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If you want a thing bad enough
To go out and fight for it,
Work day and night for it,
Give up your time and your peace and
your sleep for it

If only desire of it
Makes you quite mad enough
Never to tire of it,
Makes you hold all other things tawdry
and cheap for it

If life seems all empty and useless without it
And all that you scheme and you dream is about it,

If gladly you’ll sweat for it,
Fret for it, Plan for it,
Lose all your terror of God or man for it,

If you’ll simply go after that thing that you want.
With all your capacity,
Strength and sagacity,
Faith, hope and confidence, stern pertinacity,

If neither cold poverty, famished and gaunt,
Nor sickness nor pain
Of body or brain
Can turn you away from the thing that you want,

If dogged and grim you besiege and beset it,
You’ll get it!

— Berton Braley

Submitted by: Miguel Rodriguez

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Submitted by: Grace Pratchett

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

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Hear the sledges with the bells—
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

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Submitted by: Katilynn Alex
True beauty comes, of course, of character
Not through how the eyebrows are shaped
So many people that I'm told are beautiful
Due to the way they look, like a fool!

True beauty is more than appearance
When you make your way to the entrance
True beauty is not about sleek smooth skin
True beauty is something deep within!

True beauty is not a nice toned body
At least not to everybody
It doesn't need heavy makeup
To show off and up!

As a matter of fact,
True beauty is how you act
True beauty is in the heart which touches another
True beauty is tender hands holding each other!

True beauty has no flaws
For it is all that matters after all
True beauty surrounds you days and nights
Yet, true beauty is so broad, no one knows its heights!

True beauty is not a pretty face
Like a brand new vase
True beauty is not having lovely silky hair
Let alone long blond hair flying in the air!

There is so much beauty in life
But true beauty is nothing but a way of life
True beauty is not a superficial form
True beauty is in the actions you perform!

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Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea—

In her tomb by the sounding sea.
(submitted by Emily Torres)

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I had withdrawn in forest, and my song
Was swallowed up in leaves that blew alway,
And to the forest edge you came one day
(This was my dream) and looked and pondered long,
But did not enter, though the wish was strong:
You shook your pensive head as who should say,
'I dare not--too far in his footsteps stray--
He must seek me would he undo the wrong.'
Not far, but near, I stood and saw it all
Behind low boughs the trees let down outside;
And the sweet pang it cost me not to call
And tell you that I saw does still abide,
But 'tis not true that thus I dwelt aloof,
For the wood wakes, and you are here for proof.
Robert Frost
-Dominic Wooldridge

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I take out my arrow
Of unfinished dreams and desires
And place it firmly in the bow
Of my determination
Aim it at the starlit sky,
Such amazing power
Behind the action…
Totally pure intention

And, as my prayers
Ascend the night sky.. transverse
Mother Moon in silhouette
The planets call out in unison
“She knows her path!”
We will assist our sister”

I can close my eyes
And in that deep place
Where day has cast aside my worries
Can rest assured and protected,
The universe is on my side
What now can scare me?

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Steamed buns - a haiku by Honoka Kousaka

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Steamed buns - a haiku by Honoka Kousaka

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So many steamed buns
All those green-coloured dumplings
I'm sick of them now

Submitted by Adam Chang

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Because I could not stop for death - Emily Dickinson

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Because I could not stop for death - Emily Dickinson

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Because I could not stop for Death –

He kindly stopped for me –

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –

And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring –

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –

We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed Us –

The Dews drew quivering and Chill –

For only Gossamer, my Gown –

My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground –

The Roof was scarcely visible –

The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses' Heads

Were toward Eternity –

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Erin Bailey

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,--

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

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Listen to the Mustn'ts By Shel SilverStein

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Listen to the Mustn'ts By Shel SilverStein

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Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child,
Listen to the DON'TS
Listen to the SHOULDN'TS
The IMPOSSIBLES, the WON'TS
Listen to the NEVER HAVES
Then listen close to me-
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be.
Harleigh Cook 1st Period

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Wondering Why Am I Here-Raymond Martineau 

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Wondering Why Am I Here-Raymond Martineau 

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I lay in bed alone at night and wonder why I'm here.
I do so much for everyone.
Why don't they show they care?
I met this girl who said she loved me,
something I haven't heard in so long.
She used me for my money;
what a ride she took me on.
There is so much hurt I feel, so much anger trapped inside.
Sometimes I wish my dad were here, but to me he's not alive.
I have no one to talk to.
These drugs seem to be the only way.
Turns out it's a lie just like the smile I put on each and every day.
I know outside I'm smiling; it's the face I fake for you,
But inside my soul is crying and there is nothing I can do.
I know my family loves me.
I'm there when their decisions are poor.
I'm sick of feeling like this walked on rug thrown upon the floor.
I lay in bed and wonder what the hell I'm doing here.
Can I wake up from this dream?
Can I please just disappear?
(Submitted by Arianna Leal)

# data[].attributes.body
Today is filled with anger
fueled with hidden hate
scared of being outcast
afraid of common fate

Today is built on tragedies
which no one wants 2 face
nightmares 2 humanities
and morally disgraced

Tonight is filled with rage
violence in the air
children bred with ruthlessness
because no one at home cares

Tonight I lay my head down
but the pressure never stops
knawing at my sanity
content when I am dropped

But 2morrow I c change
a chance 2 build a new
Built on spirit intent of Heart
and ideals
based on truth

and tomorrow I wake with second wind
and strong because of pride
2 know I fought with all my heart 2 keep my
dream alive

# data[].attributes.body
submitted by Amanda Nguyen

A day
drunk with the nectar of
slowness
weaves its way between
the years
to find itself at the flophouse
of night
to sleep and be seen
no more.

Will I be less
dead because I wrote this
poem or you more because
you read it
long years hence.

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"Dreamers vs. Realists" by Sabrine (Submitted by JaMia Johnson)

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"Dreamers vs. Realists" by Sabrine (Submitted by JaMia Johnson)

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It's hard for the dreamers to land
Without the realists keeping them grounded
The dreamers will soar too close to the sun
Without their freedom being bounded

And it's hard for realists to fly
Without the dreamers lifting them up
The realists might not get off the ground
Their life will remain corrupt

Without the darkness
Light has no existence
So you can't stand too close
Because the truth is from a distance

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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.
cameron runnels period 7

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By: Leah Williams
A child's first smile doesn't know the true meaning yet.
Smiles aren't there just to show off ones shiny white teeth.
Smiles are like a 1,000 piece puzzle,
they are hard to connect.
A child's smile stems from ones life experiences.
Happy smiles, sad smiles,        cover up smiles they come in all shapes and forms.
A child's smile defines who they are.
Take a second and smile right now in the mirror,
don't say anything,                              just "Smile"!

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Into every life a little ax must fall.
Every dog has its choke chain.
Every cloud has a shadow.
Better dead than fed.
He who laughs, will not last.
Sticks and stones will break you,
and then the names of things will be changed.
A stitch in time saves no one.
The darkest hour comes.
(Submitted by Rebecca Potts)

# data[].attributes.body
Today is filled with anger
fueled with hidden hate
scared of being outcast
afraid of common fate

Today is built on tragedies
which no one wants 2 face
nightmares 2 humanities
and morally disgraced

Tonight is filled with rage
violence in the air
children bred with ruthlessness
because no one at home cares

Tonight I lay my head down
but the pressure never stops
knawing at my sanity
content when I am dropped

But 2morrow I c change
a chance 2 build a new
Built on spirit intent of Heart
and ideals
based on truth

and tomorrow I wake with second wind
and strong because of pride
2 know I fought with all my heart 2 keep my
dream alive

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Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day by Shakespeare

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Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer's Day by Shakespeare

# data[].attributes.body
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Olek Randall P.7

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School during Pandemic Haiku By Jafet Aviles

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School during Pandemic Haiku By Jafet Aviles

# data[].attributes.body
School Is very wack
Like there's not a pandemic
What is the point

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I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud By William Wordsworth

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I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud By William Wordsworth

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I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

By: Yaira Bardales P.2

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I live, Yo Vivo by Sar Lopez (Submitted by Gisselle Gonzalez)

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I live, Yo Vivo by Sar Lopez (Submitted by Gisselle Gonzalez)

# data[].attributes.body
In Spanish, VIVIR means To Live, the proper conjugation of which to when you say something as improper as “I live” would simply be translated to “Yo Vivo”.
I live, as a Colombian-American.
I live, as “You don’t look Hispanic”
I live, “Woah! You and your brother look nothing alike. You’re so… white.”
I live, “My mom came home once and talked about a man who simply replied with a horribly pronounced “Me gusta” when my mom said she was Hispanic.”
I live, “My dad condones abusive behavior because he thinks Latina aggression is ‘****’”
I live, my mom asking me “Would you rather celebrate the Sweet Sixteen or have a quinceanera party?”
I live, as the white boy sitting across the room in Spanish class asking “When will I need this in real life?”
I live, as the “Yes I DO have a friend with a skin complexion similar to mine, and yes, he is Hispanic.”
I live, most of my friends are beautiful people of color.
I live, when will you open up the tab in Google and search some Hispanic History to fill your mind instead of “Latina ****”?
I live, the messages on the Internet saying “You’re Hispanic? I bet you’re great in bed.”
I live, there are NO gender neutral nouns in Spanish
I live, yes I DO love coffee
I live, no it did NOT stunt my growth
I live, one kiss per cheek at family meet-ups
I live, “Eskimo” nose rubs
I live, "if you’re hispanic, why aren’t your ears pierced?"
I live, being expected to remember Spanish just because it was my first language, but growing up with an American dad made me whiter than fresh bed-sheets sold in America, made in South America, Hecha en Peru.
I live, my mom breaking into tears as she is so proud that I can sing in Spanish
I live, my mom used to be so embarrassed, when I replied “un poco” to her friends asking “Tu Hablas Espanol?”
I live, "if you’re Hispanic, is your mom an Alien?"
I live, "But your dad looks so white!"
I live, being subject to racism hidden in a joke, hidden in a remark about how pale I am, hidden behind a judgmental look, hidden behind a scoff, a laugh, a pity shrug, a fetishized assumption.
I live the bulletproof clothing and horrible crimes I am warned about when I say I wanna go to Colombia I wanna go to my mom’s home.
I live, as a Colombian-American.
I live.
Yo vivo.

# data[].attributes.body
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Ellie Consolvo, P. 7

# data[].attributes.body
Submitted by Zachary Sutton

I'm left silent,
I'm left in pain.
You are so violent
and completely insane.

The way you touched
and hurt me so well
left my body crushed,
and you could tell.

But you loved me hurt,
broken and bruised.
When you'd rip my shirt,
you'd yell I lose.

And I always did,
for you were stronger,
and whenever I hid,
you hurt me longer.

I didn't deserve it,
but now I have no choice.
I'll have to endure it,
for I have no voice.

So forget me,
but remember,
I'll never forget you.

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Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan thomas

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Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan thomas

# data[].attributes.body
“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
CAMERON GACIA

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Help Yourself To Happiness by Helen Steiner Rice

# data[].attributes.subject
Help Yourself To Happiness by Helen Steiner Rice

# data[].attributes.body
Submitted by Chloe Jaramillo

Everybody, everywhere seeks happiness, it's true,

But finding it and keeping it seems difficult to do.

Difficult because we think that happiness is found

Only in the places where wealth and fame abound. And so we go on searching in palaces of pleasure

Seeking recognition and monetary treasure,

Unaware that happiness is just a state of mind

Within the reach of everyone who takes time to be kind.

For in making others happy, we will be happy, too.

For the happiness you give away returns to shine on you.

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this is the recipe of life
said my mother
as she held me in her arms as i wept
think of those flowers you plant
in the garden each year
they will teach you
that people too
must wilt
fall
root
rise
in order to bloom
Yasmean Refat, 1st period

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In the sea caves
there's a thirst there's a love
there's an ecstasy
all hard like shells
you can hold them in your palm.

In the sea caves
for whole days I gazed into your eyes
and I didn't know you nor did you know me

Alperen Budak

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Posted by Yazan Dajani

Wake up and grind is the only thing I know

That is the only way I know to grow

Just wait a bit more and it will show

Working and working your way to the top

Work so hard to get to the top

Work so hard the grind don’t stop

Grinding the reason, I make the GUAP (money)

People doubt and doubt I pay them no mind

I grind and grind they ain’t worth my time

The tears and sweat I’m dedicated

Once I reach the top the haters are devastated

Work my way to the hall of fame

People hate and hate it is such a shame

Our grind is similar but not the same

One day everyone will know my name

# data[].attributes.body
Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

# data[].attributes.body
Posted by Jean Chevez
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—

Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”

Then the bird said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore

Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!”

Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

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Resist much, obey little

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posted by Akayla Gardner

We are all victims
of failed society

They criticize

They hate
They judge
and we all just
stood there
crying,
tired,
and broken.
We are too numb
to feel,
We pretend to be deaf
about what they say,
We stay blind
of the things they did,
We are the outcast
of this broken world,
We remain silent
creating our own
vast world within
our enormous
minds—There,
we stand
taller than towers
There, our inner voices
speak the loudest
There, our sight
and imagination
is boundless.
I said
"someday
they will
all fall, and
I'd be too
oblivious to hear
all of their screams"
—they made me like this.

by LIA