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a living miracle
old man
a living miracle
the wrinkles spanning miles across the landscape of his face
ocean eyes so deep that the sunlight reflects off every wave
the corners of his mouth strong enough to lift
decades of pain off weary hearts
a rainbow in the midst of a storm
clouds crying tears of despair
a choir of human and ambulance wails
coursing through the veins of the prisons
we call hospitals
souls suffering
suffering
and suffering
a how are you?
flows out of his lips
his arms outstretched
across the hospital counter
oblivious to the trillions of germs
crawling up his hairs yelling
save me! save me!
the typical i’m fine, what about you?
claws its way from my throat and out my lips
those simple words break him
his car stranded in the middle of the endless desert named suffering
his wife is
paralyzed from waist down
revoked of her rights from the constitution of human life
forced to attend therapy on the weekends
he shifts his collared shirt to expose
a scar reaching from his collarbone to chest
if i could read minds
a graffiti of scars would scatter the canvas of his brain
a car rammed into his soul as he rode his bike
his sole method of transportation that day
the driver a drunk cop on duty
old man
a living miracle
wearing a smile despite it all
and thus
the brightest stars can only be so radiant
because they understand how it feels to be in utter darkness
trapped in the isolation of space
jenny ham
This was written after an experience of volunteering in hospital
Wildlife poems from children in Indonesia sent in by English teacher Maria Alaguru
Sekolah Mutiara Nusantara, Bandung – Indonesia
My Baby Chinchilla
by Naygella Lau, 12, 7th Grade
Jumping high like a bunny,
You roll like a penny,
Squeaking like a mouse in a tunnel,
Don’t you love a big cuddle?
A hybrid between Bugs Bunny and Mickey Mouse,
Your cage is a giant house,
Fluffy like cotton candy,
Your teeth looks cheery.
Bright like sunshine and dark like moonlight,
You lie asleep at night,
And by day run like the wind,
Alongside your kind.
Cunning as any snake
Yet so shy and gentle
Sporting a sharp face
And a tongue blue as venom
Slithering amongst the trees
Silent as a mouse
Shying away from all threats
Hidden in the forest
Never reveal your disguise
And no one will know your secret
Stay hidden on the tree floor
Silent blue tongued skink
King Cobra
by Nelson Oliver Witjaksono, 13, 7th Grade
A ferocious predator with venom that can be a killer
your fangs are of a vampire’s, one menacing bite would be punishing
a powerful king, an apex animal, like a Tyrannosaurus Rex that likes to flex
King Cobra, your strength is like a crusher, trained for strength like the marines
you are so agile, a silent, slithering stalker, like a speeding bullet, not quite so fragile
you enjoy a slow, solitary life, gathering for yourself, like a lone wolf,
your size is monstrous, one would think it preposterous
as you hunt down your meal knowing it’s a goner
your eyes look evil when you stare at your prey
coiling back like a spring before you strike,
a Solo hunter, marking your territory,
and shoot forwards like an arrow,
there is no escaping you
==== King Cobra ====
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My Little Teacup Pomeranian
Written by: Chelsea Natalie Chandra, 13, 7th Grade
Running around and circling like a ball,
Little Napoleon barking in the mall,
You’re so tiny you fit in a teacup,
Making us squeal “that’s a cute pup”
You bark loudly and steal the crowd,
With a fluffy, soft fur that is like a cloud,
Kids around you make you feel happy,
As if you have just received candy,
You give hugs, cuddles, and kisses,
And eat so many delicious dishes,
So popular you were owned by blue blood
But all I know is that you are my mutt!
———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-
Living!!!
If life was a time bomb
Which your actions detonate
If you are good, you can stay
If not, it’s your fate.
People will live and die
Some you cannot forget
To forget them is a sin
So believe the reality you’ve just met.
The good won’t want you to cry for them
The bad might want you to die for them
For they aren’t God, they can’t dictate your action
Believe in who you are, add achievements to your collection
Leanne Moras
A Gentle Mind
Gentle is something
The mind can be
Yet much stronger
Than the body
Our legs can kneel
And our hands can sway
Yet untouched
The mind will stay
It can break down a building
With a stare
Yet can be tempted to
A fun world fair
This is what
A mind can be
Don’t let it rust
Let it be free
Leanne Moras
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The Color Blue
The color blue,
All the different shades and tones
From light to dark
Blue is a cloudless summer sky when the sun is out,
Blue is all the bodies of water –
The ocean and waves, lakes, and pools
Blue is a color in a crayon box
Making the rainbow complete
Blue is sadness,
The tears rolling down a person’s cheek,
The loneliness that fills the room
The bruises and pain
Blue is coldness
Distant and icey,
But blue is comfort
A blanket swaddling a newborn baby
Blue is loyalty,
Blue is honesty
Blue is a true friend
Georgia Peach, North West Atlanta
7th Grade student at Ecole Mondiale World School in Mumbai, India.
The Bird
There was a little bird, It sat without a word, Perched upon a tree, Quiet as could be.
“Sing with us, please!” other birds would cry, But it kept silent, as days went by. “You don’t know how to sing!” they assumed and they mocked. The bird gave no answer, so they laughed and they talked.
“Fly with us, please!” other birds would shout, Still in its nest, it wouldn’t go out. “You don’t know how to fly!” they exclaimed in disgust. “Then why are you a bird, if you aren’t like us?
One day, the bird flew up in the air, No one watching, the world unaware, Landed on a tree with dangerous pricks, The sharpest thorn, did the bird strive to pick.
A beautiful sound, there was nothing quite like it, Rang through the forest, the creatures astounded. They gathered around, as the cry of pain ceased, With wings ripped apart the bird hung in a tree.
Celina Chen, 15
Friend
There is a girl I knew, I called her my best friend.
There for her til the end, My love for her is true.
I don’t know what to do, Or how to feel and act,
For we don’t interact, As much as I want to.
I miss those sunny days, When we would laugh and smile.
We’d sit and talk awhile, At stars we would both gaze.
But now that summer’s gone,
She’s disappeared as well, With stories left to tell,
How shall I carry on?
Celina Chen, 15
Sunflower
i am a sunflower facing the sun
trying to look on the bright side
but do not be fooled by the happy yellow petals
for if you pluck them off you are left
with a dreary dark center
Celina Chen, 15
Cold and silent.
I sit in the dark.
I wait for something to happen.
Maybe someday
I’ll get outside
And enjoy the fresh air.
Days and nights, days and nights.
Gray filled room.
Kept from stress.
I sit there.
I don’t do work.
Because my mental health is flimsy.
I hide in my closet.
Dark as can be.
Nobody can hurt me,
Scare me,
Or make me cry.
I am content.
There is nothing.
A nothing filled room.
Under my blanket,
I am there.
Warm and comfy.
Isolated.
Could anybody;
Anybody, anywhere
Get me out of my small,
Cold,
And dark world?
I say no.
Too many noises.
Too many outside.
I like to shut my doors,
And unwind with music,
To drowned out the noise
Inside my brain.
People tell me
“The real world better”.
But what is better
Than what I have?
A nothing filled room.
A cold,
Small,
Dark,
Grey,
Nothing filled room.
I am not mistaken one.
I am content.
I sit in the dark.
Cold and silent.
Mandy Renner, aged 11
Life
In communities happiness rings,
sadness hides underneath,
living, dying
sirens ringing,
smell of food.
Families brimming with life
until the day, their time has come
out of the world elsewhere.
Sadness can overpower
leaving people without power
until the day they give up
let the darkness flow over them and take over.
Then comes the end to a day.
Goodbye to all.
Natalia Gatti
7th Grade
Life
life is like a knife
filled with lies
it has a start
and an end
but you can’t contend
your misery
in the mystery of life
if you wanna thrive in life
you got to arrive and
surprise all
and show them your alive
Juan Saenz
7th Grade
The World of Creativity
to all the creative artists
it’s not complicated
to get motivated
they might get hated but
they also get appreciated
they might get frustrated
then get underestimated.
Artists are creative and cool
many people may think they’re fools.
Yeah creative artists are the best
mostly when they don’t get rest
the power of art
Natalie Zacarias-Martinez
7th Grade
We Are Free
We have liberty
We can live as a family
We don’t have misery
We can live happily
At night the stars shine so glittery
We may become friends rapidly
If you are feeling down go to trickery
The fields are so beautifully grown
Here we are very well-known
We all have a talent we have shown
We are never alone
Here we are all in the same zone
We always have a tone
Diana Sandoval
7th Grade
The Truth
Graffiti on the walls,
trash on the floor,
violence in the air,
stories of death everywhere.
Killers walk around
corrupt cops they may be,
all around the city.
Some people may cry
for those who have died,
there may be safety nowhere
but there’s cops everywhere.
Some may be judged for height and for skin,
or for brains or bones.
Some kill, some die
some people have nowhere to hide.
sleeping on the street,
sleeping in danger, as I tell the truth.
Dexter Dang
7th Grade
Only Want To Go Home
depression is a permanent scar
but we should embrace who we are
the silence is what takes us
because we cannot bare to discuss
when life is in black and white
we begin to hold on to the little bits of light
to protect us from our self
because I’m scared of myself
we don’t feel a thing
so we begin to cling
to those who give us hope
thinking they’ll help us cope
we are the angels at the roam
who only want to go home
Jordan Wickramasekera
7th Grade
Nothingness
Smelling all the food
Hearing the diverse languages
Walking down the streets
Seeing all the homeless
Wishing I could help
But I have no money
Hearing them pray
But I feel so far away
Nothing I can do will help.
Graffiti on the walls
I try to paint them off
But everything still feels so far away
Nothing still feels the same
Nothing will help me put those thoughts away.
Hanging out with friends
Talking and chatting
Laughing away into the night
They start to leave
I try to go with them
But my feet are so cold and numb
Nothing I can do will he me get there
I give up trying and do nothing
Let the world take me away into the black void that fills my body.
Michael Samson
7th Grade
Change.
It can be so drastic; yet so small.
It can be so small; yet so hurtful or fruitful.
Change can be seasons that come and go.
Nothing stays the same.
But without change there’s no
future to look forward to.
Change can make us cry.
Change can make us laugh.
Change is life.
Change is death.
Change can be the best.
Change can be the worst.
It all depends how you decide to take it.
Estefania Camarillo
7th Grade
Change!
Walking home as I question myself
What is home?
When we’re kids, we play in the fields
The sun shining
A big grin on the face
Not realizing the lies.
Now walking home
With the rain hitting my face
Surrounded by disgust
What happened?
The sun shines
A ray of hope
If only I wish things could be the same.
Time runs by
As quick as light
Wishing I could make a change
But I can’t everyone deranged
If only someone would hear me screaming
Change!
If only a single whisper could make a change.
Noor Khan
7th Grade
My Block
Although my block is not that long
When we come together we stand strong
With all the diversity and different race
We are lucky to live in the same place
With all the different culture and foods
Sometimes it ends in feuds
Hearing all the cries and screams
From little kids to even old men
While their wives would yell and scold
But when they become deceased
There souls become released
Mariam Khan
7th Grade
Genial
What a game of chess!
No need to confess.
It was a fair game after all.
Time to recall,
What I did wrong
Does this bishop belong?
Everyone congratulates me even though I didn’t win.
My frown forms into a grin.
I drop my grocery bags as I walk across the street.
Someone runs up behind me and he’s pretty sweet.
He helps me with my bags.
We zig and zag,
Through the street
It’s like he helped me cheat!
We say our goodbyes.
It was a surprise.
People are so genial and kindhearted.
I might have been outsmarted,
By the kindness of others.
Ayla Arnautovic
7th Grade
Masks
I see masks all around
Some laugh, some smile
Some hide a frown
I see masks left and right
They try to keep what’s deep inside
Some last for a while
While others can’t keep a smile
They break without a sound
Or they break in a crowd
We look for those that we can trust
So our masks can finally bust
’Cause no one wants to wear them
But no one can discard them
The masks can destroy our heart
Or protect us from breaking apart
I wear one of these in sad times
To keep back my true feelings
I often try to keep it sound
Till my friend can break it down
Our friends can be great support
To recognize my feelings deep down
No matter strong our masks may be
A good friend will make you free
Lige Fletter
7th Grade
A Boy of Many Colors
I am a boy of many colors,
suppressed under a mask of my community with little hue,
the cracks of the mask leak little emotion,
I’m a bug in a bottle, with little scenery to view,
with a mask expressing only laughter and joy,
while inside there is sadness and coy,
with a hint of anger too,
But do not fear me, for I do not show
I am a boy of many opinions
Some splendid some agreeable
Some vile and some wicked
There’s a lot of me you don’t know, with little you will never find out,
because of a mindset of an endless puzzle
I am a boy of many colors,
I love those who are bright and dark
those who are diverse like wine stains on a white dress
And those who blend in like white paint on a blank canvas
Alex Baldauf
7th Grade
Alternate Realities
Everybody says
you need to face reality
but I live in alternate realities
At school I’m
encouraged at originality
but after that home alternates
reality because they don’t encourage
originality I become a normality
My community alternates my
personality making me thoughtful
to all alternate realities
Sahir Rahman
7th Grade
Big Home
Our community is like a big home
There are good and bad,
but all belong.
There are of all types,
people who say yes and people who say no,
the ones who think and the ones that say,
the ones that go and the ones that stay
Some may change the way you think
depending on it, it could be good, it could be bad.
It will always be your choice.
And no matter what,
all who belong,
will be part of our big home.
Lucy Garcia-Juan
7th Grade
What I Can Be
I can’t be a doctor
I’m not smart and can’t even take care of myself
I can’t be a pilot
I’m scared of heights and responsibility
I can’t be a teacher
I’m not patient and still learning
What I can be though
is the person who’s there when you need to talk
I can be the person to go to 7/11 with even if I have no money
I can be the person to rant and vent with even if I’m busy
I can be the person to play fight with even if I’m bruised and sore
I can just be your friend in this crazy stupid world
Even if I feel broken, confused, afraid, tired, crazy
I’ll still be there
Just wait and see
I’ll get up for you and me
Just wait and see
Grace Dapat
8th Grade
Living on Both Realms
I can never tell you too less or too little
About my reflected past
Two kingdoms battling different orders
Do this here, don’t do this over there
In this nation it’s essential to eat this
In this domain we never eat that
Living in reverse worlds break away who I am
Being ordered to only favor the more religious one
Being told by others about how the nation I cherish so much holds a beast
They tell me that the beast has a mouth full of fangs with a thorny red dahlia crown
I wish I was just in an isolated kingdom
One where I don’t have to hate the other
One where the streets are built off of emerald
But these nations that I’m forced to “hold close to my heart”
They once hated, despised, held grudges, and reviled each other
I made a commitment that once I grow up,
I’ll make my own kingdom
This kingdom will have citizens that won’t feel my torn past
No tales about a beast, no war, and no dummy laws
Only love, affection, and fondness
If my kingdom does depart into two one day
I promise there will be no war
Only respect and acceptance.
I do forgive them
I’m way over the war that let my spirit bleed without me knowing
All I gotta say is that they made me like this
Yes. A phoenix who turned into grey ashes
Who will one day be born to guide others into only light and not darkness.
Mikko Barrios
8th Grade
Not Enough
Not enough police
Not enough protection
Not enough peace in our communities
Not enough happy days
Not enough love to spread around
Not enough homes for everyone
Not enough for everyone to enjoy
In our generation,
many people are suffering because they don’t have everything like the others
many people can fix that
but they don’t
They think it’s NOT ENOUGH to give so they don’t
give at all
In my opinion,
I think it doesn’t matter if it’s not enough
I think people want something rather than nothing
but the one thing is that
it’s NOT ENOUGH!
Isabel Soto
8th Grade
How Am I Shaped By My Community
Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?
I ask myself this,
When I’m caught up in this world.
Full of magic,
Wonder and most of all,
Mystery
I wish it was real,
The world I would like to live in.
Imagine being in a castle,
in Northern Ireland,
Becoming a witch or wizard is only a dream.
Honestly, some would say it’s childish,
I disagree.
It’s a way to cope,
with the demons who live inside me.
They scream like Mandrakes,
Are dark like Dementors,
Keep me awake like Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named laughter,
They move in the shadows like Peeves,
Playing tricks on me.
Sometimes the tricks don’t get me,
They remind me of Fred and George,
Other times they’re clever like Hermione.
The world is magical,
in a wondrous way.
It’s not childish,
It’s my way.
Willa Dixon
8th Grade
A Day in The Life
Mom,
I can smell your cooking
Chiles Rellenos
stuffed peppers
Home sweet home
My nose is in heaven
Chicago,
Dystopian times
From time to time I can hear all these sirens cry
Maybe too often.
Rogers Park,
Drive-by shooting
I remember one time
Cars screeching
My friends and I were just hoopin’
My own home,
Blue and red off the wall
Keeping me awake
But now it’s normal for all
My community,
Keep me alive
Every day I hear about a tragic demise
But you help me grow
I’ve gained the courage
I am now on my own.
Jason Torres
8th Grade
How Am I a Part of My Community
Mindless chatter echo in the hall
Laughing about the latest joke
Lies and stealing loom above like a cloud
Happiness and dancing
To hide the anger
To hide the depression
Singing on the phone
To cover the silence
Happy days
Broken days
Watching from the sidelines
Trying to bring smiles and laughs
Empty words
Happy smiles
Tired Eyes
Broken minds
“Are you ok?”
“Yeah I’m fine”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes”
Lies are surrounding happiness
Dancing, singing, smiles
To hide the stress and broken soul
Amanda Blakemore
8th Grade
Little Trouble Makers
Mama’s gone to work,
We are left home alone.
Mama thinks we’re little angels
only when she’s home.
Angels we may look
but opposite we are.
My brother and I are little trouble makers,
playing video games all day long.
Matthew Samson
8th Grade
My Community
In the morning I leave the house.
Little children look at my ankles
Then stare up at me as their parent says, “hello.”
Most early mornings I walk
Through the ones that mommy says
Only read the Old Testament.
In my eyes all people are equal.
But the little ones are judgy.
One threw a rock at mommy’s car.
Walk a little further and I feel more at home.
These people may not look like me
They feel familiar.
All these people smile and wave at me,
They know my name.
Walk home and no one cares anymore
My family is the one on the block with a Christmas tree.
Ava Piemontese
8th Grade
My Broken Family
I just want it all to be over~
the yelling, the fights, and then silence.
The way my dad keeps quiet because he’s the youngest.
Don’t know if I can mention “this” name in front of “that” aunt.
Me and my cousins used to live together,
but now it’s like they moved on without us.
How we were always the ones affected by the family matters.
How my cousins from both sides used to be friends
That’s how close we
were…
How much I respected them and wished to be like them.
Now I only meet them at weddings and our conversations are just greetings
All I ask now…
Actually I don’t even know.
Do I move on or just sit there waiting for them to make the first move.
I think I’ll choose the first option.
I will focus on making the closest people around me proud.
I guess I’ll just think about the memories
and yeah, “those happy times” when I miss them…
Salwa Majeed
8th Grade
Feeling
When I walk into my school and I see the parents
leaving their kids with worried faces
I wonder
how are they feeling?
When I see teachers worrying about what they’re going to teach today
I wonder
how are they feeling?
When I see other students laughing and talking with their friends
I wonder
how are they feeling?
I’m proud to see that I at least see some sort of difference only to see those
smarter than me
more talented with me
happier than me
more than me
how am I feeling?
Is feeling just generated by our minds or is it what we want
I don’t know
how is everyone around me feeling?
Victor Chavez
8th Grade
Community Poem
My neighborhood is very enthusiastic.
Loving each other, caring for each other, and helping each other.
When seeing the people you can see their different characteristics.
The neighborhood will always remind you of your mother.
When seeing this wonderful place, you imagine accomplishing your dream.
People around you helping you along the way.
When the neighbors see you they always seem to see you gleam.
When you finish your dreams, it’s the month of May.
Neighbors giving you free things,
You can get very happy with this.
They always treat you as if you were kings.
But, you usually hear things that cling.
When the days are bad; rain usually falls.
Sitting inside waiting for the rain to stop.
In the meantime I picked up calls.
When the rain was over, I saw a cop.
The cop was admiring the neighborhood.
He seemed to be good.
This neighborhood will give you a big smile.
The smile is big as a mile.
Yasir Mohammed
8th Grade
Black, White, and Grey
I’m not 100% white
I’m not 100% black
My dad is Jamaican and Barbadian
My mom is an Irish redhead
Saying mixed is like a potion and spell waiting to be cast
Mixed with a sprinkle of black and sprinkles of white
Can’t say I’m black because I’ll feel like I’m rejecting my ancestry
Can’t say I’m white because my skin tells a different story
Can’t say words that were used during dark times because I’ll offended myself
Can’t say I’m black, can’t say I’m white
If you mix black and white, you will get grey
Not too dark, not too light
Just right
Imperfect but perfect
I’m grey
Lack the features to call me white
Disregard the features that make me black
Grey. Yeah, grey. That’s what I am
Black, White, and Grey
Kaitlyn Smith
8th Grade
Wintry Day
A peaceful evening
feelings of joy
and cheerfulness aplenty
on this nice wintry day
As far as you can see
is clean, untouched,
undisturbed snow
Snow, a beautiful sight.
The children come running
They create snowmen
and snow angels litter the area.
A naive child is frolicking around,
and now he’s being pelted with snowballs
Wait what?
Ouch, poor kid.
Moving along now.
A group of four start making a snowman
They stand accomplished
with their shovels still in their hands
Now they’re beating it to a pulp…
Wow…great, wonderful.
What’s wrong with these kids?
Don’t they know the meaning of joy?!
Do they really need this?
They have such gleeful faces
at this organized destruction…
They’re so strange.
Actually a little crazy.
I wonder why…
but I guess I’ll never know.
Josrich Viernes
8th Grade
The CTA Train
When I had left for vacation
The train had passed by
Across the street
And I hadn’t thought much of it
Until I had gotten back
We got there and during the first night
I couldn’t fall asleep
While thinking about why
I had a sudden realization
That something was missing
From there I realized a pattern
I couldn’t fall asleep
As easily as at home
And this continued until the journey back
We got a cab
And then I heard it
The thing that had been missing
The CTA train
When we finally got home
I plopped in bed
And fell asleep to the sound
Of the CTA train
Diego Ramirez
8th Grade
When Someone Says They Live in Chicago but They Really Live in Winnetka
Driving down a quiet street
Houses with more room than you would ever need
Tailored yards and picket fences
So different from the noise
So different from the traffic
So different from the life of Chicago
You stop at a big house
You try to suppress a grin
You run from the car to the arms of your everlasting friends
Their arms unmoving and faithful
You start to go inside the house
You pass just through the threshold
Into another world
You go into a house of height
With walls stretched out six feet tall
Crown molding and open floor plans
So different from the noise
So different from the traffic
So different from the life of Chicago
You and our friends decide to go explore
You follow a road to the creek a block off
Déjà vu of a trip once taken before, in the noise and traffic
You take a journey through jungle and weeds
Watching for the pythons and poison ivy and spiders sure to dwell in these parts
You get scared and you and your friends flee
With their life and a new story to tell
You go back home to the noise
You go back home to the traffic
You go back home to your life in Chicago
So different and similar to the whirlwind of adventure you have in Winnetka
Paige Meegan
8th Grade
The Poet
He was beautiful,
and I was not.
He thought I was
and so he placed me in that big heart of his.
Made room for me.
He likes to write about what he loves
I don’t know why he wrote about me.
He was intelligent
I was not.
He thought I was beautiful.
I knew I wasn’t.
So I froze him out.
“I’m sorry” was what I was supposed to say
Silence was what I gave.
One less friend
all because
He was beautiful
and I was not.
Kya Milligan
8th Grade
City Weather
When I left Chicago for Pakistan
I noticed something different
Maybe it was the heat
Or was it the people?
What was I feeling?
I became exasperated
The dry sun hit me
in waves of heat
Then came the time
to travel back
On the plane
And over the Atlantic
And as I left the airport
It hit me
The chilling sensation
of cold and winter
And the change
It ran and hid
for I did not feel it
And it bothered me longer
Hanzila Khan
8th Grade
One in Two
Wheels screeching against the tracks
Ta, ta, ta, ta, ta
Church bells gonging in the distance
Gong, gong, gong, gong, gong
Everywhere I turn, tan and black
Everywhere I turn, a homeless man
Everywhere I turn, colors spread on walls
Everywhere I turn, stores close
A lady I am told, to be and to act
To cook
To clean
To knit
To embroider
To pray
To behave
Kids laughing in the park
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha
Cars vrooming in the street
Vroom, vroom, vroom, vroom
Everywhere I turn, diversity
Everywhere I turn, children play
Everywhere I turn, love
Everywhere I turn, a story to be told
A student I am told, to be and to act
To get straight A’s
To get into a good high school
To finish assignments
To help others
To respect others
To behave
Aliyah Aguilar
8th Grade
Family
Loudness and craziness
laughter and cries
hand holding
feet stomping
hearts pumping
tears shedding.
This is what you
can find in my family
pushing and shoring
hugs and kisses
shoulders to cry on
pointed fingers.
This is what you
can find in my family
no matter how far or
how mad we get
love and nothing but
love is what powers
my family.
Luna Uribe
8th Grade
Special Sisters
Someone special like them
who knows the way I feel
in every situation
their concern is very real.
To have someone
like you
is a gift that shouldn’t
be forgotten.
I’m proud to call you my sisters
but happier still
to call you
my friends.
Ayima Ahmed
8th Grade
The Time of Year
Grabbing hot chocolate
Looking at the Chicago lights
Seeing the community happy
It’s that time of the year
Even if you don’t celebrate Christmas
Stare at the lights and grab yourself a hot chocolate
Bundle yourself up
And gather around the huge tree downtown
Drive back home and go to sleep
Before Santa comes make sure to check your list one more time
And check if the milk didn’t expire
And the cookies didn’t get hard
It’s the morning
You exactly get what you wanted
And give a hug and a kiss to your parents
Go around the neighborhood to wish everyone a Merry Christmas
It’s that time of year
Julia Alba
8th Grade
Home
Nobody understands it like I do.
They can’t see it the way we do.
When they come here
All they can see
Is violence,
People fighting,
Crimes being committed.
But that isn’t what our home is.
It’s not just about the hate,
There is also peace here, too.
Friends hang out at the park.
They laugh,
They run around,
They have fun.
Families come together.
They talk,
They reminisce good times,
They are happy.
With all the bad,
There comes the good, too.
Nobody understands home like I do.
Nobody can see it the way we do.
Sanaya Cruickshank
8th Grade
———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–
Here We Go
Here we go,
Round and around.
Never stopping,
Always running.
Going up and down.
Here we go,
Im at the end of my rope.
I’d tie an knot,
But I’m afraid.
The room is disappearing.
Here we go,
This is getting tiring.
School is a bore,
But I don’t have any money.
Man I want college.
Here we go,
The hand raised in anger.
The face of wrath,
The empty bottle.
Rolling on the floor.
Here we go,
The end has come .
I don’t need this submitted,
But my grade is important.
Thanks for listening.
Here we go,
I don’t have any money.
So its cool if you don’t want it,
I still need to write it.
My future is at stake.
Here we go,
Goodbye to you.
And thanks again,
It doesn’t seem like much.
However it made my day.
William Colgan, 11th Grade, Houston, Texas.
Eye of New York by Kimberley Simper, aged 13
The below poems are from the creative writing group at St. Paul’s Middle School in Alnwick, Northumberland, in response to this year’s National Poetry Day’s theme of ‘Light’. These followed the resources produced by the Forward Arts Foundation and these poems were written during six workshops that were ran by Catherine Ayres.
Light
Imagine a world with no light
©Víctor Sánchez
Good things will happen, bad things despite
Higher and higher, the light gets bright
Thankfully we have a sun to give us light
© Lola, 11
Candle light
When candle light is lit he saves you from evil.
He will save you from grief and despair.
©Fer Siciliano
When he is blown out the smoke and light goes into your soul.
Vibes will change you from sad to relaxed.
Candle light soul is inside you now;
cherish the fact that you are special.
Blood of beautiful moons and candles before them.
Rest in the light and stay in the peace.
© Maia, 12
Candle light
Candle light can’t light up the world like his brother the sun
But he can see through us, all of us.
©Delwar Hossain
And he knows our secrets – past, present and future.
He knows one day he will flicker and die.
He will come back, if given a match.
He can do this 24 times before his death is certain.
He reads our minds, searching through our dark and light secrets,
easing our troubles and crashing our happiness,
to bring tears of joy and sadness.
He will crush and raise our dreams in an infinite cycle.
He burns ice and fire, interchangeably with our emotions.
He sheds his coat once in a life, changing colour with each one,
invisible to the human eye.
For he has a treasure that no humans have:
light.
© Gregory, 11
Please Don’t Blow Me Out
I can dance for you
Spark and reach and flicker
My movements reflect on your walls
My special magic display
I can dance into your soul
©kawartistic
Carve happiness on its walls
Please don’t blow me out.
I am weak and small
I burn only to die
I show you things you didn’t want to see
Secrets of the dark
I show you shadows
I’m scared of wind and rain
Please don’t blow me out.
I give you a path
A path of golden light
I am good and strong
I read the darkness
I translate its stories
I watch the Sun and Moon
Great gods sewn in the sky by stars
But time melts my wax
I will die.
© Libby, 12
The moon
©Hasan Yuzeir
cries, she is hurt. Her
figure is now swollen and red. The
three sharp knives of the beast sliced her. Its
hands can do too much damage. It can kill, but it chooses
to punish, to make her suffer. She will never die. She must live in pain forever.
© Catherine, 12
The Night Stage
Starlight peeps from black curtains
Glancing over the world
©Josh Joe
Shy as she tiptoes onto stage
Large eyes glance upon the crowd
Glinting with fear and truth
She sweeps across the sky in a gown of woven light
Silver hair worn long to hide her face
A timid smile from a mouth never opened
Barefoot as she sweeps across the sky
Starlight stares upon the earth
She drops gems into puddles
She plays music that cannot be heard
She gives a shy smile upon her audience
Silent as she glides off stage
The sun is up next…
© Libby, 12
Moon
Washed up on an evening tide,
vexed in confusion,
she tiptoes around the sky.
Constellations become crossed
into intricate patterns and shapes.
©Alexander Yuryevskiy
She wonders why she was given the job
of an artist if no one notices the art?
Wordlessly she waits,
thinking about the cruel destiny she was given.
Slowly she trudges towards the doorway,
droplets crawling down her face;
it beams with ghostly sadness.
She feels useless
but she isn’t.
Maybe tomorrow she’ll realise
but for now she crawls away.
© Philippa, 12
The Moon
©m Ri
Selene high in the sky,
Ever there,
Luna light in the night,
Ever there.
© George-Anne, 12
Blood moon
Red
is the moon.
Why?
The devil’s word
©Dimitri Guedes
does not influence
that blood colour.
The moon’s wife
is not the reason for
that blood colour.
The jaguar
is not the answer to
that blood colour.
It comes,
it disappears,
it comes.
Wherever you are,
the blood colour gets into your head.
The blood colour gets into your head.
Wherever you are,
it comes,
it disappears,
it comes.
That blood colour gets inside your head.
The blood colour gets inside your head
Wherever you are,
it comes,
it disappears,
it comes.
That blood colour
is not the answer to
the jaguar.
That blood colour
is not the reason for
the moon’s wife.
That blood colour
does not influence
the devil’s word.
Why
is the moon
red?
© Tamsin, 12
Beauty of the Night
Eyes stare at the glare of the flames,
never paying a speck of attention
to the beauty of the tension
©Julia Walter
in the air of the dark,
all dismay from those who can’t.
A detailed eye may only have
one day or a lifetime to stare,
most don’t really care
in the beauty of the night.
© Katie-Marie, 12
Fire
after “The Cataract of Lodore” by Robert Southey
His flames are great,
his eyes full of hate,
©Leticia Amor-Jurado B
his murderous soul awaits.
Innocently smiling,
lighting and catching
creeping and crackling
igniting and fighting
unnoticed he creeps down the pathway.
Blazing and boiling and smouldering,
slaying and killing and laughing,
slaughtering, exterminating,
assassinating and executing,
burning and swirling and flaming
and spreading and eating and creeping.
Flashing and crashing,
bashing and smashing,
glowing and slowing
deleting and retreating.
He smokes to floors,
his food all gone,
that’s how the fire destroys our homes.
© Gregory, 11
Temptation
I am distracted by a blaze of light
luring me into its territory.
Its glow is blinding;
©Alessia Giuffrida
lulling me into a deep sleep of time.
It leads me, hypnotising me into its evil lair.
I try to turn back, but it’s no use.
The light’s hands are beckoning,
its eyes pulling me ever closer.
I listen to her calls;
her voice sounds gentle
but I know it’s not.
© Anna-Grace, 11
The light
The light settles behind a hill,
©Myriam Tisbo
whilst the fierce but tender wolf howls,
his greatness showing and his strength and light growing
as he pierces through the stained-glass window,
spreading colours like the rainbow.
With every breath he brings new life,
whilst others struggle for survival.
He is kind, but selfish,
spreading his glory through the countryside
to the city,
whilst again, the lonely wolf howls.
© Gregory, 11
——————————————————————————————————————————————————-
The Sight of You
The Red Devil’s searing touch,
Emblazoned my heart with relentless love.
Past my lips he pours as I lurch,
©Florine Marlant
The poison of amour, my own blood shed.
He pours what I made.
In times of sorrow and unrequited love,
Where my character doth fade,
A razor blade, my own blood shed.
Through the crack in the wall I stared,
In times of entrancing wonder and curious love,
Deep in my heart my souls convulsed!
Cupid’s arrow hath made me helpless, drained.
In my body I wander and in my mind I ponder.
Deep, unpoetic, stressful, overshadowing, lonely love.
© George Peat (G.A.P.), age 16
Forbidden Love
His reflection in the frozen lake,
next to mine,
was a picture of perfection.
©Anastasia Alekseeva
Two friends in love,
Bound by petty promises,
keeping secrets from the world,
hiding behind snowflakes.
I wanted a celebration,
with confetti in the air.
I wanted to be with him,
spend time together,
like all couples do.
And all I got were midnight rendezvous
But I still smiled,
Because the moments we spent together
Melted the ice inside of me,
once and for all.
© Sadia Zafar, age 18
Knock
I walked past the door,
to the first house we bought,
And I had the urge
©Agu
to knock,
To see, if you would answer.
To see, if you would let me in.
But I held my hand
mid-air,
Contemplating,
As the thunder roared
and snow hit the ground.
After a while,
I lowered my hand,
and walked away.
Maybe, the winter
had made me cold.
© Sadia Zafar, age 18
