Under the arch

of the trees 

ripples water-

aqua green

honeysuckles wave

bees buzz

goldfish swim 

while water splashes 

spring leaves growing 

ripe mangos swinging 

branches twisting 

vines hanging 

bright sun peeks

through thin clouds 

soft breeze blows 

and rose petals fall 

Under the arch

 I see

Nothing more, some say.

I say, “No way.”

You are my attic

My come-in-here attic

My tunnel-under-civilization attic

You are my-lock-all-my-friends-up attic

My sneak-around-the-walls-like-a-ninja attic

My avoid-slipping-through-the-floorboards attic

My “Lets-all-get-in-and-try-not-to-die” attic

You are whatever-you-need-to-be attic

My get-away-from-my-family attic

My overly-dangerous-roller-coaster-attic

My secret-ninja-layer attic

You are wood and nails,

Fiberglass and insulation

But so much

More,

My attic that is super edgy

Just like me.

By: Nitai Pran Schomker

https://qph.fs.quoracdn.net/main-qimg-b335a5011ab650543448ac99e099f836


In the graveyard,

the stench of corpses assaults his nose.

The lightning

strikes the ground.

Wind howls

 through the air,

And wet mud covers

His shoes.

The eyes of cats follow him

 As he inches towards the grave.

A stone etched with the

name of his loved one.

A spider crawling 

Feeding away at his skin.

The sky black

 with little moonlight .

In a graveyard,

full of twigs.

By Amulya Vajja

And it was born.

From one tree,

Hundreds of thousands

Are created.

Delivered in quiet,

Passing under planks of wood,

Shuffled through corridors,

Handed from one grubby hand to another.

Pierced by a silver pen,

Injecting black fluid

Right onto its pristine white finish,

Folded hands to toes. 

With a final farewell,

It was gone.

Passed under planks of wood,

Shuffled through corridors,

Handed from one grubby hand to another.

Delivered in quiet.

For the last time it was 

Touched, folded, and dropped,

Alone, abandoned, and discarded.

By: Nitai Pran Schomaker

To the discovery of a girl, a skeleton

as rare as Shakespeare’s signature.

Her bones developed far beyond her age 

With only ten ribs

 like the syllables in Shakespeare’s iambic pentameter.

Her skull ridged at a peak,

Her bones hardened as a six year old.

Although she’s tinier than Shakespeare’s pencil,

Her age at odds with her size..

A girl with 50,000  dollars of attention when dead,

But likely none when alive.

Not of much importance the then 

But plenty now.

With genes as rare as Shakespeare's signature.
By Amulya Vajja

Revealing a shrieking sound from above.

Not accepting their fate, scientists dove

From every which way under tables, chairs, and houses.

Bombs splitting the night air,

Evoking memories of havoc and chaos

Like a grave evokes memories of death,

Happening all in an instant.

Buildings crumbling, sounds booming,

Children shrieking, fear lurking,

And above all doubt, 

Silence, silence, silence…

Just for a moment,

The sound of death and chaos

Has ceased.

By: Nitai Pran Schomaker

Tides,Waves and the motion 

Covered by the wet sand,

It felt smooth in my hand

The white shell shimmered like a pearl,

And on top was a swirl

The inside was pink like flowers,

It made me want look at it for hours 

Looking at the brownish texture,

I wondered if it was a pirate’s treasure 

As I look at it for the last time  

This makes me imagine if i’m

On the shore of the ocean

With the tides, waves, and the motion

Looking at the shell once again covered in wet sand.


By: Jamuna

Once a paper soft and fresh

And the smell of ink and paint-

To an explorers hand

I was sold away.

“Oh how I miss home”

On a creaky cracked boat

I left to the salty sour seas

Through the gray water and ghastly fog [punctuation] 

Some days were so dry

The water petrified and the wind missing [punctuation] 

The explorers dry hands turned and shook me

Then he wrapped me back up.

Finally a thump and the explorer yells

“India!” he draws his pen and unfolded me

My day has come as the ink ripples upon my surface.

They came,

Looking for

Sirius Black.

To Hogwarts

They go—

Not caring

Who is there.

If you get

In their way,

You will suffer

A fate known

As living death,

Never to be

Saved from.

For the loss

Of a soul

Can't be overcome.

Deep in the mind numbing town

Of Philadelphia 

I was born

I heard tell of

Vigorous ideals

-not devilish ideas-

Presented as your rule

Legal document

The story told vigorous ideals 

Around which

 I was created 

 

I am the constitution 

And I eat examples for the - 

Many of man

By:BALA

In the darkened

Tree tunnel

Light bleeds through

The canopy roof.

Beams dance upon

The forest floor.

Moss dangles from

The branches.

Walls of trees

Block the breeze. 

Paving saffron paths

Between the trees

In the darkened

Tree tunnel

 

You are paper and cardstock,pictures and writing

Nothing more some say

 I say no way 

You are my omnibus 

Wy noise canceling omnius

My chlorine scented omnibus

You are my wake up in the morning omnibus

My  skip chores  omnibus

My flashlight under the covers omnibus

You are my first and best omnibus 

My “Godfather” of omnibuses

My escape to a land of wonder omnibus

You are paper and cardstock

Pictures and writing

But so much more

My omnibus that is bigger than me 

Omnibus

By:BALA 

You can see-

Their ragged cloaks

Flowing in wind,

Even further

You can see,

Hogwarts in the distance

Luminous by the fire-

From the candles 

Of the Great Hall.

As they come

Closer and closer,

So does you doom

For when they come,

You lose

Your precious soul.

Planks and nails, desks and chairs, teachers and students

That is what most people see you as,

But I’m not fooled, I see that you are way more.

You are the place I call my second home,

My place to see my friends,

My place to have teachers who care about us,

My place to see everyone I love who isn’t my family,

You are my place to be free and away from my problems,

My place to do crazy hanging-off-of-stuff stunts on the playground til the teachers look our way,

My place to see Vraju almost lose a finger before the door was fixed,

My place to to talk to friends to feel better after a bad day,

You are my place to enjoy learning,

My place to learn about Krsna,

My place to learn what I need to know,

You are planks and nails,

Desks and chairs,

Teachers and students,

But so much more to me,

You are my school

The home of an animal before

Given to me from a bag

The glossy shell was painted by the sea

Color riples eclosing the shell

In stripes of amber and white

The silky smooth shell was formed by the sea

With a spiraling point and jagged sides

The shell looks dangerous to feet

The used shell was raised by the sea

With a flesh pink inside.

Scars still rest within the shell showing imprints of its residents.

By Arjuna
 

Napalms will toast your flesh.

But the tormentors Agent x

Forces you to watch your loved ones in turmoil

Till the beeps beep faster

Last I checked torchers 

A no-go 

But what would you call,

Agent x

The worst fight is

A fight you can't fight.

By:BALA

A small tree with branches and leaves

Is small, broken branches but fine.

My I want to relax by myself tree

My I want to do homework so my sister won’t bother me tree

My let's read a book and rush through the maze tree 

My listen to music peacefully tree

My let me sit under it and look at the stars tree

My let me escape so no one can find me tree

Even if my tree is the size of a broom 

It still is my small tree,

Even if it's just branches and leaves

It still fills me up with glee.

A Tigress and lion came 

Revealing a baby liger.

Zoologists closed from all around 

Observed 

The awed.

The zoologist stopped looking at other animals 

And cared to you --

Tsar. You fit in their palms 

A fragile liger fed goat milk,

to delicate to see your mom or dad 

watched carefully while you are playing 

and fed like a king

They let you sleep for 16 hours 

And play when you want 

They treated you like your name 

Tsar Russian for emperor they called 

Forgetting the others 

Tsar became the liger 

that no one knows.

found once 

long before I had it,

The rough shell with rippled waves 

rusted by the sun 

shown xanthous in the sand 

The rugged shell dotted white 

washed out now 

abandoned for days 

The xanthous shell in the pocket of my bag 

was found once 

long before I had it