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Sit at the head of the table,
where the eldest sits,
where all fights start,
where they end,
where you spend your life,
where you recite grace,
where so many bottoms have sat,
where unwritten history is made,
where generations change,
religions change,
where the chair won’t forget you,
or judge you,
but miss you when you’re gone,
when nobody else will.

 

Serenity Baruzzini is a precocious 6th grader enrolled at Mastery Charter. She is drawn to poetry but has written a number of short stories as well and hopes to write a novel about a young spy.

The pungent smell of cigarettes inflames her nose
She wants to turn around and run
Run far away until the blinking lights are no longer visible
But she hears mama’s voice telling her it’s all right to stay

So she walks to the end of the bar
With every step she takes in her six-inch heels comes the threat of falling
But mama said not to worry
She’d get used to them in no time

Taking a seat at the bar, she looks around
She can’t help but stare at all the lowlifes;
She can’t help thinking she is one

The bartender interrupts her train of thought, asks her what she’d like
She whispers the words,
“A beer, please”
The bartender just laughs, slams the glass down in front of her
The first sip makes her wrinkle her nose in disgust
But mama said not to worry
She’d get used to the taste in no time

So she keeps drinking
The bitter taste gets less and less with each sip
The empty glasses begin piling up in front of her
She feels eyes on her
Eventually those eyes become a man walking towards her
She can’t help but feel nervous
But mama said not to worry
Nothing bad would ever happen to her

Soon enough, the man’s pulling her away from the cigarette smell and the blinking lights
Her morals fight him off
But her hands give in

She’s awakened by the sunlight of a new day
Looking around the empty motel room, she sees her clothes lying everywhere
And notices hundred dollar bills lying on the nightstand
She frantically tries to piece together the night

But mama said not to worry
Everyone remembers their first

 

 

Earth, fire, water, and wind. Each element provides humanity with something amazing but holds the power to conjure unwieldy disasters. Earth, with its aesthetic landscapes and array of color and textures, could collapse at any given moment, causing worldwide adversity.

Fire, an element of power and agility, its welcoming warmth and flames that dance upon coals, manifests itself into something beautifully destructive. In an instant, it can turn a cherished family gathering around the fireplace, or a simple electric light, into your greatest fiend, its beauty laced with perjury, causing chaos. It leaves a tempest that has no mercy for those lucky enough to survive its vile rage.

Water, cleansing and refreshing, cool and inviting, has the alluring supremacy of having us repose upon its warm, sandy shores. Its beauty and meditative rhythms are like no other, yet when angered water holds the ability to engulf and envelope everything in its wake.

Wind, fickle and everlasting, provides a cool and calming sense to those in its path. In the same hand, a simple breeze has the capacity to swallow everything in its sight, providing us with a whirlwind of terror.

These elements provide us the necessary good and evil that comes with everything else in the world, allowing us to set a middle ground in which we can live in harmony among one another. There is always half a glass, whether you see it as full or empty.

 

With pale blue eyes and cropped red hair,
She is a fixture in these parts.
72 pounds and no way to gain,
Heavy blankets of despair
Drape over her frail body,
Swallowing her,
She has no hope.

Her name is Mary,
But so few know.
They don’t care.
Her pain.
Never realizing,
They are practically the same,
Lost in their own struggles
Amongst several others
In this big city.

The sun begins to set,
But she has nowhere to go.
So many directions,
But none seem right.
A cool breeze,
The leaves change.
Most would be happy; fall is here.
But to her,
This only means
Winter is ahead.
Cold brisk wind
Sends a chill.
All alone.

A woman in her forties,
With a blanket over her shoulders
And a tear in her eye
Because
There is only so much
Warmth
That she can get from her pockets,
And there is only so much
A plastic bag can hold.

A man in his fifties,
With a cross around his neck
And an extra dollar in his pocket,
His chin held high.
A proud smile
That hides his secrets
And his shame.

Two worlds collide,
Never to be the same again.
He hands her a five-dollar bill
With a card on top.
It’s the size of her palm,
A little crumpled in the corner,
A tear at the top,
With a few unforgettable lines:
A prayer

 

 

It’s glued inside forever
told
Real and natural
It’s hard to forget, I won’t
that’s for sure because great
memories are obviously pure.

 

Boy
reflector
17, 1950
could fly like
tsunami like
California breeze high school
with gusto, but blend in
weird / different / unique
bullied, smaller
reads comics
part chameleon and rich, but
doesn’t like dressing rich, and
yellow / blue eyes like
cuban russian danish
invisiblend
gray black and silver suit like spider man
has to protect just his friend / girlfriend so
he grows eagle wings

 

 

Nurse, musician
guiding, loving , laughing
best dad in the universe
Father.

 

Brown, dry, crinkly
Camouflaged like a spy in dark glasses and a trench coat
300 babies in a teeny tiny space
They will drop out with no sound, leaving behind an empty pod
I hope I get to see just one
Because finding a praying mantis is cool
Nature is magical
Everywhere I look I find clues
To the secret world that lives all around me

 

Connor Simpkins, age 7, is a 1st grader at Penn Wynne Elementary School. He enjoys being outside in nature, reading, rhyming words, and building Legos.