Poetry

Stand Strong

Anita C

You don’t matter

And you shouldn’t believe that

You have a say in things

This may be a shock, but

One voice can make a difference

Is a lie

You don’t have a place in this world if you aren’t supremely beautiful

In 30 years, I will tell my children that

I have my priorities straight because

Beauty and riches

Is more important than

Living life to its fullest

I tell you this:

Once upon a time

People stood up for what they believed in

But this will not be true in our era

Being beautiful and rich is the only important thing in life

Society tells us

The more popular you are, the more valuable you are

I do not believe that

Everyone should be equally valued

In the future,

A pretty face will let you climb to the top

No longer can it be said that

Knowledge is important

It will be evident that

You don’t have a place in this world

It is foolish to presume that

You are loved

(Now read from the bottom up)

he Shape of My Lines

By Min-Seo J

Drawing

In the rectangle,

There are shaped lines,

Lines that are funny, plain, or nice.

They laugh and cry.

They feel pain.

They feel joy.

Lines

Are like

People.

Everywhere,

Anywhere,

They split.

They are apart.

All swimming around within

Creativity,

Within

The endless world

Of Imagination.

I draw

These imaginary people

The pencil moves

It walks across the rectangle

The lines move like music

They are the wind

I combine the lines

They join.

One alone, just a line.

Gradually as more are added,

It becomes more,

Something meaningful

Like a family,

Or a circle

Of friends

I create these lines.

I meet these lines.

I understand these lines.

Coming to life,

Patched on paper,

Constantly disappearing.

Then

I Walk Alone

By Eliana B

I dread when the teacher says

“I’m letting you pick your partners”

I dread when the teacher says

“You guys can pick your seats”

But worst of all

I dread when the teacher says

“Recess”

Most kids can’t get out the door

fast enough

Going the other direction is like

trying to outrun a pack of cheetahs

in slow motion

So I just wait

in the back room

The pack squeezes through the door until

there’s no one left

but me

One step

two

three

All the way until I’m

out

of the building

But no more free than I was

inside

I walk the path

paved

with cement

set out before me

trying to avoid glances

It works

I look around at all the people

playing and laughing

But it is a ‘guise

They are the predators

strong in packs

But I am not prey

Only

invisible

I do not need a pack

to survive

I walk alone

Always been that way

I step off the

old

cemented path

I walk alone

But I know

who I want to be

and

how I want to get there

And I don’t need a sidewalk

to do it

,

Loneliness is white

It smells like burning plastic

It taste like stale fritos and nothing else to eat

It sounds like the echo of raindrops in a concrete parking garage

It feels like wet socks

It looks like nothing’s wrong

And it lives in everyone’s heart

- Cecilia T.

The Moon and Sun

By Joseph C

The night is old

the day is new

the sunset is the past

the sunrise is the future

we reflect when night falls

and adventure when the day is bright,

the cold is what makes you think

of what you have done

but warmth makes you dream

of limitless possibilities.

Oh Starry Night

Oh starry night, will you ever answer me?

Anxious to get under the covers,

And into the swells of words and crashing of resolutions,

Being swept back out to sea over and over again.

The stars twirl and twist and turn,

In the ink pool above our heads,

We ignore them every night,

Not bothering to learn the names of something so distant.

We call loved ones stars,

I think it’s foolish,

To give someone a name that expects them to burn bright,

Without lassitude or possibility of diminishing.

Pressure builds stars,

It also destroys them,

Oh starry night, will you ever answer me,

Don’t you know how stars die?

Tea

by Curi

Steam in the air.

China Chattering.

People too

Peace in their hustle.

Whether it’s the smell

The food, all on trays

The grace of good company

Sat in one place.

3 to 7 pots,

Depending on your tastes.

Sweet.

Herbal.

Full of Spice.

It meets the plate’s matching cups.

Some take sugar,

Cream.

Really depends on the company you keep.

Watch those who don’t indulge.

Be wary.

I mean, really.

Who doesn’t enjoy good tea?