Oct 15
hassanb's picture

my brother

I like my little brother he's short and has brown eyes

I like my older brother he’s tall and has brown eyes

My little brother throws a lot of tantrums

My older brother gets me mad a lot

I like to play with my older brother

My brother likes to play with me

My little brother goes outside a lot

My brother is always on his phone

My brother goes to edmunds

my little brother goes to IAA

We both watch tv

We both go to school

We both

Like each other

Oct 15
Quella's picture

The Wind Said

There is nothing to do, the wind said
As I held a feather to my heart,
the hollow owl flight tucked beside that tiny bone-
the arch I see on my chest when I breathe

It is the same arch beneath which I have walked, I think,
when the orange ground stained my shoes,
somewhere to the west
where I inhaled dry heat
and dust played in the sunbeams.

I have learned that our bodies
are maps of the world.
We are same giants we dreamt of as children,
The giant we are both killing and trying to save.

And yet still the wind said there is nothing.
Nothing to do
despite all of this life—this overwhelming life—
that we are, that we eat, that we must maintain
lest it die.
It is supposed to die.
But also to live.

And so perhaps
we have overlooked what the owl
and the deer
and the turtle
and the wind
still know.
Oct 14
Fiona Ella's picture

twelve years

i heard today
that they're saying there's only twelve years left
before global warming goes too far. 
twelve years. 
i'll only be twenty-seven. 
i don't want the world to end
when i'm twenty-seven. 
and i honestly don't know what to think. 
there's nothing so beguiling
as the power of denial. 
nothing like wrapping yourself up
in your won problems 
and consoling yourself with the thought
that twelve years is a long time. 
and indeed, 
there's nothing else i can do. 
i can do nothing to change this. 
i can recycle,
and walk more, 
and think optimistic thoughts
but the only thing that that bolsters is my ego, 
my sense that i'm helping the world. 
i already do the first two of those things. 
it makes no difference. 
the people who could actually change this
or don't do enough, 
or maybe it's just too late. 
Oct 14
Kittykatruff's picture


I look into a mirror.
What do I see?
It's supposed to be
A reflection of me.
The long, dark brown hair,
Tan skin, representing
A country far away,
Brown eyes with
Lashes black,
A girl so tall
Her forehead doesn't
Make it in the frame.
The mirror says
This is me,
What everbody sees,
But something
Is missing.
This image
Does not hold 
My voice, or
Tell how small I feel
This representation
Does not hold meaning
Of who I am.
If this is what they see,
And think I am,
What stops the world
From knowing me
A towering girl from
Some sports team, probably
Basketball or crew,
Perhaps from another country.
If I was wearing my glasses,
They might think I was
Makeup might say 
I'm insecure, or over
But this is not who I am,
Oct 14
Maisie N's picture


Beautiful and unusual
You, a moonshine monster
Open your lips to the heavens
And tell me which it is you dread more
As you howl out your solemn question
Is it the echo or the answer?
Would you rather know that you are alone
Or live wondering what is out there?

I will live as a map on your wall
That you fill with red pushpins and stickers
Marking all of the places you have dreamt of
From the back of a pickup truck in September
On the nights that you barely remember living
Filled with good company and crisp autumn air
Take me with you wherever you go
Whether to the edge of town or the end of the world.

So tell me is this a simple seasonal change?
Or are the trees truly catching fire?
The leaves drift so easily to the ground
While I always seem to fall much harder
Bare branches are all you seem to see
No nuance, no heart to the picture
Oct 13
poem 0 comments challenge: Cooking
dogpoet's picture

For You

I put on my too-small boots
I haven't worn them in a year
I put them on for you.
I tramped through the forest
Just to find those berries
I was only enthusiastic for you.
I scratched myself and didn't mind the pain
Only for you.
I stayed up half the night
Boiling those sweet smelling plants
Just for you
For your pleasure
I walked across those kitchen floor boards hundreds of times
Back and forth
Trying extra hard to remember
All the things I forgot
I gave up time
I could have spent
With you
I'll be spending it with dishes my sister should be washing
But I'll know
I did it for you.
For you
So that I could walk through the aisles of frozen food,
Feet aching
To find just the right ingrediants
For my love letter cooked 
From my heart to your rude
I paced back and forth
I was panicked and frazzled
Trying to remember
Oct 13
zazu's picture

Far away from here

Fire burned under the ice,
As shadows danced in the sky. 
Reflections had been long forgotten.

Aiming to change your past is impossible.
Waiting in the dark for something to happen,
Anything, is all you want by now.
Yet in the end, the only thing you know is how the rain feels when it hits your face.

Fading in the distance is a person you thought you knew.
Random memories flood your brain.
Only words will catch yuor attention.
Moments to remember is what you live for.

Harmony wakes you,
Energy sparks behind a curtain.
Run away in your mind.
Emerge into that place, far away from here.
Oct 12

Torn and Ripped Apart

I fell on the gravel
In the middle of the road
And just laid their alone

It was weird cause all I did was trip
But I could see that my scarf was ripped

So I took it off
And I started to shake
And suddenly I was really awake

I was scared and started to scream
And for once you could hear me

I was stunned
And wanted to speak
Because for once I didn't feel weak

I threw that dirty old scarf away
And confidently approached the new day

But then I saw I was wrong
To throw the scarf down
Onto the ground

I ran away as fast as I could
They told me to stay quiet like I always should

I searched for my scarf
Dirty and torn
And five days later I could have sworn
That I had always worn
That scarf
Oct 12

Becoming Woman

One the day of her becoming,
She cried crimson tears --
Rich in iron,
Stolen from the women who came before her --
Her fingers intertwined
With the lace
From the scraps
Of her mother’s Wedding Gown.

The edges burned,
Rubbed against her knuckles,
The stitches of her personhood --
Taking away
The false meaning of her virginity,
Of the space between her thighs,
Air between her lips…

She tried one million times
To read the spaces
That her body filled --
To shrink her hips
And her breasts,
Removing herself
From generations of bodies
Commanded to conceive.

All she wants
Is to barely fill
The Wedding Gown
That her mother left her.
Oct 12


U have more emotions in a minute then I do in moments,

U change so much I’m always left following,

U understand so much it scares me,

U hide so much I question how much I know U,

U are so full of energy that u carry both of our energy,

U are too much it overwhelms me.

Oct 12


~It’s raining sugar, falling down on me. Like love this is sweet, and like love there is coldness. A rose is beauty it stands for love. A rose has thorns that still has pain. We take a chance. For as they say, ‘it’s better to love and lost than to never to have loved at all’ but, what if we break. Sugar isn’t good for you and snow is still cold
Oct 12


See you and me, we ain’t meant to be,

I only need you but I seem to choose me,

Your blind sighted by the love

And every time you tell me I shove

For it’s always been me

I can’t seem to remember a ‘we’

We make our sacrifice,

The thought of me comes twice

Why why why don’t you see

It can’t be we,

It can’t be we…

Oct 12

Lets Make a Deal

I’ll listen to u talk,

and I promise I won’t Interrupt,

sometimes listening is all I can do.

but what have they done for u?

I’ll lend u my ears

Just lend me your words

Oct 12


I am a pumpkin
my insides have been harvested
and my eyes and expression
have been carved into straight sharp lines
by knives.
Every time it rains the sky like a light switch 
flicks off
and my carved lips
start to rot away
pushed on by the darkness.
I am hollow 
a hole waiting to be filled with something
or by someone.
A pumpkin waiting for winter to come
and take me away. 
Oct 12

what am i?

so  many layers,

and I’m drowning in them ,

can’t define myself in words,

cause the parts of me that are collect are chipped and broken,

their so broken that I’ve forgotten my initial whole.
Oct 12


I always come in second,

I’m a side character I reckon,

Crying along with you at times,

Laughing along with your pathetic rhymes,

Getting shunned when I try to fight,

You consume my silent light,

Why do I follow along,

Tangling up my own song,

Then I feel so numb

Wondering why I’m so dumb

Oct 12
Emma.P's picture

A Different Soul

“You’re a different soul, aren’t you?”....

I wouldn’t say different,

I’ve got two arms, two legs, a face, two feet and two hands just like everyone else.

At least that’s what I used to think.

I’ve realized that everyone is different in their own way.

I don’t just have a face,

I have a face that holds a smile and dimples that show when I see the people I love,

I don’t just have another pair of eyes,

I have my hazel eyes that sparkle in the sun, or when I see food, either one,

I don’t just have two arms,

I have the arms that I use to hold the ball in the sport I dearly love,

I don’t just have hands,

I have the hands that holds the heart of the love of my life.

I don’t just have legs,

I have long legs that I use to chase my dreams

I don’t have just have feet,
Oct 12
Jen L.'s picture

The Man Who Changes

Have you heard,

About the man,

The man that changes every autumn?

Did you know,

Know that his personality changes?

That he looks different,

Looks brighter,


After winter passes by.

In autumn though,

He looks brown and old.

His hair falls out,

The energy drains from his eyes, and it’s hard for him to move.

He’s like the trees,

Young and healthy in spring and summer,

Old and dying in autumn and winter.

He never gets a break from changing.

And if you ever wonder,

What it’s like to be old or young again,

Just find him in the state you want to know,

And he’ll tell you the best he can.
Oct 12

The wide awake Dreamer

This was a summative I did in 10th grade, it is a poetic reflection of the book “Kaffir Boy” By Mark Mathabane 
Oct 12

The wide awake Dreamer

This was a summative I did in 10th grade, it is a poetic reflection of the book “Kaffir Boy” By Mark Mathabane