Crow, 10th- Oakland, CA
The body [my body] isn’t meant to feel trapped.
with every passing day
I feel as though my soul is being sucked further and further in
just to take physical form.
My fingertips long for the urge to make
and my lower back itches with anticipation.
The path following each year seems to dissipate into gravel
faster than ever before.
I find myself struggling to judge myself based off of social normalities
in comparison to my own aspirations.
Every noise made,
every sweet drop of honey from my tongue
must come with a sudden bluntness,
almost as to not upset the bees who created the monstrosity in the first place.
Forgetfulness is a common scheme in my thoughtfulness
and thoughtfulness is encouraging the disposal of love.
And although the use of words may impress those
with a fondness for professionalism,
I feel as though my newfound mannerisms
are merely a disguise for means of entertainment and praise.
Thus in conclusion, life feels [is] incomprehensible,
and although I torture myself with the notion of comfort,
and a sense of awe,
there is more reason in flailing around like a fish on land.
And yet instead, I scribble down lengthy, failing paragraphs
full of similes.
C. Okonkwo, 10th - Suwannee, GA
Obsessively detached from all that is lacked
Because next to me is you and your famous attack
You go into battle, strong as a sea!
Still leave space for the tangents and misfits like me
I feel safe in your waters, they move calm and slow
So I quickly learn to follow and row as you row
I bathe in your presence, I dwell on your needs
I want you to feel how I feel when I see
When I see you in hindsight, scribbling bits
Making it all work with an arm and a fist
How all your jottings are filled, with the brightest of will
And you make us all spill our spiders in mind
Carefully toeing around, muttering “don’t make a sound!”
Until it did and was found, but you didn’t renounce?
How could I trust you? How could it be?
That someone has this much a sense to be glee
Where do you fall? And who do you call?
Seems the ship is kept up by a one-woman brawl
Do you ever feel homesick, sailing that trip?
Does it not get to be such a violent unzip?
Hitches quickly take their space in this drift
But you sit there and voyage and let it be rit
Grey, 8th - Ione, CA
I could find a thousand versions of your personality
versions of your personality
all buried deep within your eyes
like the thousand colors they can change into
a thousand different ways you treat me
a few consistently wrong
not that you'd care how I feel
changing at lightning speed
too much for me to understand
a thousand different things you want
a thousand different things you want me to be
things I couldn't be
things that were wrong
things that were right
A thousand things that
could, would, and won't, ever happen
JennaX, 11th- White Plains, NY
new snow lays motionless.
the city miles away.
how did I arrive?
white ice extends, blinding my eyes.
too brilliant – my reflex is for cover,
but it draws me in.
reflections – brighter than summer sun,
but this warm season – the best season – is months away.
I exhale, the atmosphere captures my breath;
no escaping without notice,
it materializes before my skeptical eyes.
strange, but special.
cold wraps my body, hold on to 98.6.
I struggle, but safe.
in these silent, desert-like, white plains,
I am beginning to see
winter is special.
Students 6th-12th Grades