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Poem:

The little blue avali, waves to me

with the sounds of flutes adrift

Are you free, asked thee

paired along the creeping mist

Come and sit with me, it said

nearby, stood a fallen log

Thou a farewell must be bid

the unknown of the settling fog

Not many know, about our whereabouts

the moonlit glow shed

It's if it clears all my doubts

onto the water ahead

Please stay dear, it only gets visitors ne'er

here, there is nothing to fear

Artist Statement:(HUGE rant)

I was inspired by the VR Chat map, Haadokkoi, by AAYOISHO, which was a trendy map. My friend has wanted a VR headset so badly for two years now. This piece that I made, with my team, is a way of saying, "Good luck."(not sarcasm) This sonnet poem describes the atmosphere and dialogue about a blue Avali and you. The poem was with the odd lines, (1,3,5,7,9,11,13) are dialogue or actions. While the even lines,(2,4,6,8,10,12,14) are environmental descriptions. Lines (1 and 3) and the last two lines have 4 rhymes. Avali (pronounced Uh-vah-lee) rhymes with, me, free, and thee. Dear, rhymes with ne'er (means never), here, and fear. It was used, as I wanted something catchy, but subtle. Lines 4 and 6 have personification (creeping, settling.)

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Brain and Heart

Listen to one

You listen to Brain

You wind up with quick decisions

Smart and reasonable

But never sensitive

Because people can’t be trusted

You listen to Heart

You give emotional responses

Sappy and love struck

But you get hurt easily

Because your heart’s too trusting

In the end

You can’t just listen to one

To be Human

You need Brain and Heart

Learn to listen to both

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Wound in meticulously coordinated strands

Fresh neat bundles

Soon to be caught in a chase

Untangling the dangerous mess

Unwinding misfortunes mistakes

Timeless hours untangling on end

Impatience arises with countless knots and twists

Still a mess to be resolved

Time by time the puzzle is solved

Threads of life slowly unravel

Now perfectly neat

Ready to be made into something quite unique

Artistic Statement:
For this poem I wanted to write on something that would be able to represent me, and with that I chose to write about a ball of yarn. The first stanza of the poem is about how a ball of yarn can mirror how I present myself, since at times I tend to be a perfectionist when it comes to the things I do, but yarn can easily get tangled. The next stanza represents how I can make mistakes from time to time. Even with yarn it can be utterly exhausting trying to untie knots and tangles, representing how it takes time for me to improve and not everything has to be perfect at first. The last stanza of my poem is about how even when yarn can end up tangled, it can be undone with time and effort. After that you can use it to make a wonderful creation from the yarn. I chose to present my poem in a way that showcases how  the ball of yarn is neat at first but as you unravel it, the yarn unravels into a  tangled mess. When you reach the end of the poem awaits a crocheted piece inside made from the yarn. As you unravel the yarn you will also be unwinding the lines of the poem and after every stanza you read you will reach the end of a knot of yarn that separates them.

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I start accelerating slowly.

Clack, clack, clack,

The gears shift.

Pedal, pedal, pedal,

The white line

Stops me.

Artist statement:

For my poem I made a free verse with repetition attributes. This poem is trying to convey the steps of biking up a hill. I decided to put the words on the road going from the bottom of the page to the top of the page. I did this to represent the direction of the bike in the painting.

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Under a canopy of stars
Amongst the blue darkened skies
Her eyes gaze upon speckled white of lights

Fleeting feet dazzle the nighttime’s tide
Tiptoeing across a celestial horizon
Wandering in the wind

She waves to the moon
And it waves back
Through the the timeless hours she ponders

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Night for a Thousand Lights
Lanterns fill the skies
illuminating the night
Filled with cheerful joy

Autumn Leaves
Come fourth with the wind
Scattering hues of gold light
Dancing through the breeze

Wistful Warrior
Wounded by sharp blades
Slowly bleeding a great pain
Cuts deepened within

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Oh, tell the tale

Of one so frail

And glimmering with beauty

As I first laid eyes

Upon my prize

And willed for her to be with me

She was one so kind

And one so sweet

Without her I was incomplete

She was mine and mine alone

My dear precious Marie

I watched her close

Yet upon my propose

She refused and wouldn’t agree

Yet she was wrong

I knew all along

She was to be with me

My dear precious Marie

She was so charming and so fair

For even one lock of her hair

Itself alone could stun me

For she was mine and mine alone

My dear precious Marie

And still I wait

With bitterness and hate

For those who steal her away from me

For I knew better than the likes of her

And I would have my precious Marie

And we would live forever more

In our kingdom by the sea

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I cast my eye over history - Nhuha Alam 

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I cast my eye over history - Nhuha Alam 

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For this poem, I chose 4 locations on google earth (A Storytelling Odyssey) to base the poem off of. One location was Hejaz, Saudi Arabia, from which I used the detail of “storied crossroads” to sum up the many things that may have occurred in that location due to how busy it used to be. What I chose after that was Jerusalem, Israel, and I used the detail of walking counterclockwise to peel back time, which was included in the original description of the location, with the start being the start of religions (religions having been believed to have answers to the start of time). Then, I went towards my next location, Kilis refugee camp, Turkey. I used the line to describe how horrific it was after the war, compared to how dead and full of nothing it has become in current times. For my final location, Kyzyl Kum Desert, Uzbekistan, I described the once lively silk roads now reduced to a wasteland of rocks and minerals. For the airplane I used, I decided on having the same start to each line to show that the person was travelling between these destinations, and the line “I cast my eye over” shows that the traveller doesn't live there or dig too much deeper into the past, as he has only scratched the surface to places of many eventful events.

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If you read the right and left side together (without the middle) it reads like a poem about the sun. But include the middle ball it is now a new poem with the aspect of baseball. When you add a ball making it look like you're hitting that ball and makes a new entire poem.

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Resentment - Atlas Pilkington (grade 10, 2023)

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Resentment - Atlas Pilkington (grade 10, 2023)

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resentment tends to unfurl in a furious, furious manner when built up in one’s mouth like mold

and when it does, it is uttered with bitter bile in the throat, and it rots out the lungs until a violent mess stands over the sink, waiting to gag

when it does, an apology is due

due with bars of soap decomposing on the cave walls of the stomach and fungus-like cavities behind insincerity

when it does, one is left with vomit on their hands and shame underneath their fingertips

because resentment tends to peel back at the edges and pry open the seams when nerves are tugged at like loose thread

and when the axons are untangled, undone and unraveled, the stuffing spills out with intestines scrubbed raw in regret

when resentment hunts you like a hungry hunter with a freshly carved spear, you conveniently let yourself become prey

and when resentment slices your belly open like a boar, it leaves you to bleed unaware of the sacrificial

Artist Statement: This poem covers the effects of resentment and how it can take control of one’s life. Hatred can be a disgusting thing and personally makes me feel physically ill sometimes, so I wanted to focus on the body and the physical symptoms of it, and in a gross manner. In the first line, I mention how resentment “builds up in one’s mouth like mold”, this was to describe how hatred builds up when ignored. Unfortunately, when it is acknowledged, it still has its effects; the sick feeling does not leave, line 2 mentioning bile and implied vomiting. Line 3 covers a consequence of expressed animosity, apologizing. I mention bars of soap in the following line to reference how parents used to wash out their children’s mouth with soap when they swore. Line 5 communicates how resentment can reveal a lot about somebody, it exposes them, “[peeling] back at the edges and [prying] open the seams”. It hits a nerve, which was also mentioned on line 5. Nerves are an incredible asset to the human body and if they were “untangled”, we would practically be nothing. This idea is conveyed with the line “the stuffing spills out with intestines scrubbed raw in regret”, which is also a call-back to the bars of soap from line 4. The last 2 lines are addressed specifically to the reader to make it more personal, instead of using “one”, I chose to use “you”. I describe how resentment takes over one’s life like a hunter and how humans are simply victims of hatred with references to resentment, “[leaving] you to bleed unaware”

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Seeing you with someone else isn’t easy

Knowing she doesn’t like you

Only if you knew how much it hurts

You’d say I love you too

I thought we had something

But it was a sweet nothing

I let the sparks fly

But you left them to die

I opened my heart’s doors to you

But you didn’t bother to open them

You left me sobbing in your hallway

You could have ‘at least tried pacifying them

But don’t worry hon I’m gonna wait

No matter how long it takes

Cause I know you’re the one

You’ll open the door someday

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The Garden - Atlas Pilkington (grade 10, 2023)

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The Garden - Atlas Pilkington (grade 10, 2023)

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my throat opens up

after swallowing the seeds

something is growing

weeds, vines, a garden

sprout lilacs in my stomach

acid is soil

ivy weaves between

my teeth and gums bud tulips

ready in season

my esophagus

inhabits caterpillars

in blooming cocoons

butterflies take flight

fluttering from rose lips

eager wings unclipped

Artist Statement: I wrote five haikus that all focus on how it personally feels to write poetry. I find poetry to be delicate like tending to plants, so I wanted to describe a garden. The metaphorical garden of ideas takes place in my mouth and throat. This choice was to imitate how one speaks in a way; the garden growing out of the mouth like words. The caterpillars mentioned on line 2 of the fourth haiku are a metaphor for a predeveloped sentence, line, or idea, the butterflies in the last haiku being the fully formed idea put into words.

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"Speare to Sphere" - IQ Linpiyawan, Grade 9, 2023

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"Speare to Sphere" - IQ Linpiyawan, Grade 9, 2023

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Surface of circles fourth, vast sides amok.

Quan’ty in: ratios, rad’us, powered threes.

Greece of past born’d Euclid, Arc; geoms struct,

Curve in constant, points of infinities.

Conceived of midst Henley Strat’, eld’ of eights:

With Chamberlain’s wrought: plays, sonnets, in

Folios scribed Juliet, Macbeth, greats.

Mind, memory: pages of past begin.

Such semblance, shall I compare ‘Speare to sphere?

Thou literare instigates emotion,

Par with vertices in infiniteer.

Each, a chase in the ocean of notions.

So long as peoples past, ideals exist,

So long shall, the sphere of pursuit persist.

It's a simple poem, nothing too exciting. My inspiration to write this poem came from a realization I had while trying to write a poem with a lot of hidden meanings and statements about present-day problems. After an entire hour of writing and erasing, then re-writing the first couple of lines, I went to find some inspiration from Shakespeare's poetry, and I realized that you could write practically anything and as long as it sounds good then it'd be considered poetry. I just thought "screw the hidden meanings" and chose to write a sonnet on Shakespeare and spheres. There is no hidden meaning, the poem is just comparing Shakespeare to spheres and from that, it expands onto the claim that life is essentially just a relentless cycle of pursuit, just like how Euclid or Archimedes were attempting to figure out all the foundations of geometry, or like how Shakespeare was always trying to write more and more creative works to fulfill his needs(basically for money), or maybe like how I had to keep chasing down some good ideas for a poem to finish this project.

Here's some advice to anyone that can't think of what to write about: choose the first things that come up in your mind, or just something in front of you. Then, describe it in as much detail as possible using poetic words to make it sound good. And at the end, try and connect that poem to something philosophical so that you can get good marks for it.

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"Hello, Internet" - IQ Linpiyawan, Grade 9, 2023.

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"Hello, Internet" - IQ Linpiyawan, Grade 9, 2023.

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"Hello, Internet" - Replit
(link)

I wrote this poem using Java. It's designed to be a terminal experience so all you have to do is go to the website and click the green "Run" button to start the program. This will bring out the terminal where the entire experience will take place.
Remember, it is an interactive experience, so you do have to type stuff into the terminal at some points in the experience. Enjoy.

I took inspiration from all the ChatGPT controversies that's currently swarming social media and I decided to make a short poetic experience that mimics the ChatGPT user experience, but with a poetic twist(hence the character name: PoemAIP).

Feel free to look through the code, it is relatively simple so you probably can understand it.

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Skip to content

This poem is a creative piece that's designed to be experienced as a program. Click "Run" to run the program. You may have to type "y" or "n" for some prompts. Note: The program does not actually connect to the internet, it is simply for the user experience.

English 9, Poem 3.

More Repls

POKEMON RED (black and white)
this will be like the old pokemon red i will also make it in black and white to make it look old :D, not ready got help from a friend Shyanne (i cant spell lol)

FakeOS, the best operating system on the market... except it's not a real operating system... and it's not for sale. Still, it has many apps, a currency system, viruses, and more!

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This poem is a creative piece that's designed to be experienced as a program. Click "Run" to run the program. You may have to type "y" or "n" for some prompts. Note: The program does not actually connect to the internet, it is simply for the user experience. English 9, Poem 3.

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I must let go
Though it’s hard
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Must
Let
Go
This is the worst part

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Let
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Go

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Happy New Year

I made my firecrackers out of tape, glue, and paper

They didn’t pop and didn’t scare Nian away

The friendly silence invited him to take shelter

From the honks and fireworks outside

in my cold and foreign room where I spent all my holidays

I panicked and froze in horror

For my grandma always warns me

“Bright red and loud sounds will help you survive!” she’d say

Just seconds later

Nian turned around and left

Quiet satisfied growls as he marched down the hallway

He pitied me and spared my life

But ate my family and Chinese New Year instead

Ever since I waved my goodbyes and boarded the flight

All by myself

I’ve not been able to find my home

I don’t know where it is anymore

I don’t want to go back, I hated it there

And they hated me there

But is here any better?

I know it’s worth it

I don’t regret it

This is a nice place to live

These people are kind and good to me

But a house and a crowd worth nowhere as much

As someone I can miss home together with

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D e a t h t o p i a

A lifetime is far too much to handle

For an empty shell that used to be me

All I have left is some tubes and needles

Beats of my heart match beeps of a machine

Doctors, nurses, and Good Samaritans

Stand like a stone between me and freedom

Now I wait with other hopeless patients

For Death to take us into his kingdom

I know his scythe will slit my skin gentler

Than any surgeon’s scalpel ever could

And hellish fires will warm me better

Than the hospital’s blankets ever would

I’m dead already, which you ought to know

You insist I fight still, hence the sorrow

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The Dying Story

Holding on for dear life

Is this the finale?

My feeble hand can no longer bear the weight of me

For my veins seem to have stopped pumping energy

A synopsis of life plays in my mind

While I battle a fated tragedy:

Childhood was Spring-

A sunlit paradise, green and lively;

Teenage was Summer-

Ebullient, excited, wild, and free;

Adulthood was Fall-

Mature and tranquil, yet tired and weary;

Elderly was Winter-

Shrunken skin and a tottering body

Winter has arrived

I suppose that means goodbye?

The story of the withering leaf

Ends in a gust of wind and a drop of rain tugging it off the tree

A nonchalant thump and a splat

lay the dead leaf flat

On a wet sidewalk in Vancouver City

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In a world of her own,

she only dreamt of one thing.

Lying infinitely on a wooden swing.

In a place beyond the stars,

filled with bundles of floral greenery.

A painted lavender sky,

beaming a ray of daylight.

Above the horizon,

and along a radiant sunrise.

At last, feeling at home.

But dreams aren’t something you can forever keep in your hand,

as she ultimately found herself falling back into the sand.

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Only the root

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I may brew but a storm
My flavours debut all the more upon heatwave
One could say I blossom with the blazing ocean
Allow a moment, indulge in the light aroma
Do what you wish with
Refrain yourself, partake not hastily
Avoid injuries, such acts may spoil the fun
Now…
Indulge in my bittersweet dance

Without any thought it’s about the process of brewing a cup of tea. On the other hand it poses the story of a battlefield. More specifically like a strong fighter’s plan for their fight.
“Brew but a storm”, similar to how one could refer to a war or such as a storm. Lines 2/3 are saying how this character’s used to fire, expulsions, etc. in a fight and even does well in such conditions.
Line 4 is said like how you should wait a bit and observe.
Line 5 is the character’s enemy or so and they tell them that they can do whatever they want, yet they shall still fail in the end.
Line 6 is explaining to not act immediately.
Line 7 is like how you should avoid injuries because they can affect how the rest of the plan plays out.
Last is basically the end and the fighting begins.
The title ”That’s My Cup of Tea” is saying like how one would make a cup of tea and also is how people say that’s my cup of tea, as saying they excel in such topic (this character is really good in a battlefield).
The poem and statement are physically presented as teabags. The poems paper is stained with a teabag i.e the tea poem part and fake blood splatter i.e the bloodshed in the battle part of the poem. Also, the tea leaves are the main part of what makes a cup of tea which is why I made the poem and statement act like the leaves in a teabag.

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All used up, my hands creaking branches, slow

Nail colour wearing off, set me apart

All undone, fluorescent lights shine below

Lift me up and illuminate my heart

My room’s a mess, I had looked for trinkets

I could shine bright to make you notice me

Nothing found, bring out the cans, loud it gets

Painted hands, ripped them pretty, can you see?

See these hands reaching up, look down, see me

See my bag of bones, shake the poet out

I’m tired of this searching, leave me be

I’ve stopped bleeding, sucking in, stomach drought

Mercy on me, click-clack, back up, throw stones

My heart stops carrying my bag of bones

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Corvid-Corvidae
Up above they roam thin air,

Their little fiefdom of freedom.

But I feel it really isn't very fair,

That these groundward feet firmly need them.

I tell all of my findings,

But they shake their heads and simply sigh,

And when I look around,

I'm sad to see street instead of sky.

It Waits for No One
The dark of night had touched the land,

Though I did not notice,

A stranger’s grasp has clutched my hand,

Too late it came to focus,

Under a moon’s watchful eyes,

It tucked me unto its beating heart,

Should its loyalty be a guise,

I pondered why we’d ever part.

Yet time did not waive its fee,

I had broken its fragile rules,

And inside their bones I could see,

The living drumbeat was cruel.

This stranger no longer needed me,

And at once I knew I was a fool.

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Anna Merritt

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Poems


My heart:

I love.

I always have,

Sometimes i’m scared that i love to much.

My friends say that i could never love someone to much..

But i think that somehow, someway… i could.

I don’t know if this even makes sense, but sometimes I’m scared that i am to much.

To much for people,

To much for myself,

To much to even just exist without causing problems everywhere i go.

I wonder sometimes that i will never be able to escape my inexplicable forgiveness that i give to everyone.

I hand it out,

I waste it,

And I cannot escape it.

Loose ends never get cut,

If someone did me wrong,

I would and will always forgive them,

Even if to other people, the person who wronged them hurt them to much and they would never forgive them… i would.

People compliment me on always seeing the best in people,

Well I don’t think it’s a good thing.

I think that it is a curse that will always have a chokehold on me.

This is why, 

when i start to love,

I try to ignore it…

But now,

Now something is different,

Someone is different.

You walked into my life,

Not realizing exactly how much you would change me for the better.

You made me realize, that my love isn’t a bad thing.

You made me realize that maybe i should keep giving it out, 

Because you are proof.

You are proof that sometimes people aren’t overwhelmed by it.

And that sometimes, that 99% chance pays off, and suddenly…

You have someone who is in this world to give out love like you.

Someone who does it for free without even thinking.

So thank you,

Thank you for showing me that my love can be accepted,

 And by you, 

Even reciprocated.









Monsters of the night:

When it reaches that certain time of night, i am not safe.

I am scared, and tired.

I stare at the moon as if somehow she will protect me, but as always she only sits and watches.

At night the monsters come out.

They watch as i lay awake in fear.

In fear of myself, of my thoughts.

My thoughts that are the monsters that creep in at night.

They torment me,

They tell me lies, they command me, and they never cease their torture until one of two things happens.

Either i folllow one of their commands, or i fall asleep.

Neither of those things ever fully keep the monsters away though.

I don’t think that they will ever go away.

Every night they come back relentlessly.

It is exhausting and painful.

Throughout every single night, she watches.

The moon sits and watches the pain and suffering.

She doesn’t do a thing.

I used to look to the moon and think that she was watching over me and protecting me as my parents always told me.

Now i feel as if she is one of those monsters.

She does not look the same and yes. she is different, but every night she is there, and she watches, but she does not help. 

As tears role down my face, she does nothing.






The words that aren’t there:

You know when people say that they wish that they could find the words to express how they feel?

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-Conscious-

Inky darkness, filled only with damp mildewy air

Surrounded by nothing but my despair

I stand still, wallowing in self pity

Excuses as long and murky as the Mississippi

Through the darkness I hear a voice spurring me on

Explaining how I have been forgone

-Momentum-

Divided I stand

Two halves

Not quite alike

Nor divergent

One filled with hope, a desire

The other not willing to yield

Half reaching to soar

Half trying to ignore

My mind fighting the change

With doubts and fears, it becomes estranged

War against oneself

All day and night

Trying to make it right

“Just stop” it says

“there’s no need to improve”

Yet finally, I can see

That other half can no longer be

As colors fill the once dark pit

The other half retreats into shadows

-Homeostasis-

That shadowy thing

the one in the back of your mind

It is creeping closer

Preying on your psyche

Deteriorating your mentality

-slap- -slap- -slap-

Its wet feet following you

Forever staying out of reach

Until it is time for your destruction

BEWARE

LOOK OUT

For the wolf in sheep's clothing

Is your very own mind

This free verse poem is split into different sections that can be separated and still work as a poem. The thought that I am trying to communicate is that there comes a time in one's life when one realizes that they are their biggest ally and worst enemy. I also am trying to convey the struggle of someone who realized they could be better and is trying to improve themselves when they are addicted to technology and modern commodities. Because of this they will inevitably lose the battle for control of their own mind unless they fix their mental state.

By: Sawyer

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A         I sit on wet sand watching dwindling light

B         Bugs chitter above, while the rain patterns on me

B         When daybreak comes I cry and plea

A         Not another island in sight

A         I wish to be a bird, to be in feathery flight

B         To escape this dreaded, lonely, sea

B         As the years go by, I realize I will never be free

A         I grow in height yet so too does my stirring spite

C         Rage builds inside while I sit still on the surface

D        Fiery heat, my melted mind decayed

C         My flowing hot anger explodes with deafening purpose

D        Black rocks, plants burning, vegetation flayed

C         Finally -- anger relieved -- pain coming to surface

D        I was once a lush atoll now barren and destroyed

This poem is meant to make the reader believe that it is about a person stranded on an island in the beginning octave. Yet, in the ending sestet it slowly reveals that the story is in fact written in the perspective of an island. Because of this all the lines of the octave are either unspecific or have a double meaning. For example, because “the rain patters on [the island]” during the night it “cries and pleads” when daybreak comes which is a waterfall created by the rain.

By: Sawyer

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Our lives are pencils without erasers

An unequivocal game where moves cannot be undone

A game whose dynamics represent the mountains

A game that can only be played once

An unpredictable like future is what all fear

The unknown to when our end is near

Until

Our pencil

Can no longer

Be

Sharpened.

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Mum drove me to
This pwlace where others can bild,
There very own Frosty of there dreams.
But I mustn’t be so noisy, so she told me not to yell or scream.

I jumped and took
a few teeny weeny step insides.
Making sure to not leeve my footprint behind.
As I walk through, I cant seem to belwieve my eyes,
When I tell you I saw other Frostys that
Sum others also designed.

One, two, three, four, five.
Looks like five other Frostys I cownted today.
I got to work and started billding mine my own way.
Bwlue eyes, purple carrot nose, and a bucket as a hat.
Hmm..maybe someday I hope this Frosty can
Chat and chat and chat!

So I wondered if my friends
would get jealous of my great day!
I made a big old Frosty that I could then play.
Until then did I realize that sumthing was off.
My dad was sopposed to pick me up from
School and I don’t have a mum.

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Artist Statement: This piece can be read from both top to bottom and bottom to top

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Soften Butter creamed with the glistening sugars

Making a fluffy cloud dough

The dry ingredients sifted together

Whilst liquids merge in a bowl

The sound of the mixer delights my ear

As it forms into a ball

just when I think I’m done- I hear

BEEEEP!

I shape the dough into round

Shove them in the oven

And wait for them browned

Aromatic heat rises from the fan

I can’t help but to sneak a glance

I think they’re done

so, I take a chance

a sprinkle of kosher salt, a final touch

The chewy edges as I break a piece of it

The satisfaction of the oozing chocolate

I think these will be a big hit!

# data[].attributes.body
A café a decade aged,
A fab bee faced egg gage.
Dead cabbage,
Beef baggage,
A faded decaf abade.

Here's the link to the poem in a more song-like form:

https://musiclab.chromeexperiments.com/Song-Maker/song/6516347602468864

# data[].attributes.body
There’s 3 ways of reading by following the lines drawn