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
gray black and silver suit like spider man
has to protect just his friend / girlfriend so
he grows eagle wings

Azariah Collins is in the 4th grade and likes to write at Mighty Writers. She also likes cheerleading and lives with her three brothers, one sister, and her parents. Azariah is proud of her Greek, Indian, and African American heritage.


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

Maggie MacLean is 7 years old. Her favorite things to do are reading, crafting, and playing with make-up. She loves to eat lunch meat, tacos, burgers, and anything sweet.

Praying Mantis Pod

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.

Soldier Love

Oh, how I miss thee,
My love,
To swaddle me
In your arms
I so desire,
But you seek a certain thrill
That I cannot provide,
My love,
Off fighting for your country
When your real quarrel
Is with me,
With time.
The one that we don't have
Your eyes,
That I shall never see,
My love,
Come back to me.

Without passion, there is no satisfaction - That's what someone important told me.


Some people walk
In the paths made by others, those
Who came before,
Footprints and bootprints in the sand
Heavy and methodical, or
Light and dancing
And everything in between.

I'd like to think that
I dare to walk in the deeper,
Unmarked sand,
Leaving prints of my own.

And if the sand is
So hot that it scorches
The soles of my feet,
I'll tiptoe, quick like
A water nymph
To the oceanside,
Play like a child in the gentle
Waves, chasing
Long-legged seabirds

Lily Alexandra Mell is 14 years old and is Home-schooled. She plays violin in two student orchestras, and is an avid reader. She was published in the premier edition of PS Junior. She has a poetry manuscript compiled, and is working on writing a science-fiction novel.


The breeze tickles my smooth cheeks. The warmth of the sinking sun’s rays buries into my skin. Bursts of purples, blues, reds, and oranges cover the sky, outlining the bright sun. Practically diving into the crystal clear water, the orange ball of light skims the horizon. The cool waves kiss my toes and the grains beneath my feet create the feeling of safety. The worries suffocating my mind drown in the peacefulness. The salty smell and crashing waves fill my senses with joy.  

An autobiographical poem

Athletic, strong, funny
Daughter of Joyce and Jerry
Who loves basketball, softball, and family
Who feels strength about perseverance
Who needs support, love, and confidence
Who gives 100%, help, and support
Who fears giving up, taking the easy way out, and never doing her best
Who’d like to see Hawaii
Who dreams of being a nurse
A student of Visitation B.V.M. School


Smelling all the pies and cakes,
And the turkey as it bakes.
Talking, laughing, family and friends,
All this fun, it never ends.
Looking at the golden leaves,
Falling off of all the trees.
Hugs and kisses, saying “good night,”
Going to sleep without a fight.

Brynn is 10 years old and in 5th grade. She loves art and gymnastics, especially competing in the floor event. Brynn really enjoys writing, especially short stories. She lives in Central Pennsylvania with her parents and 3 siblings.


War is like you are a pumpkin
And it is Halloween
War cuts you off at the stem
So you cannot grow any more
War is like you are a pumpkin
And it is Halloween
War cuts the top off of you
War carves you out, scoops out your insides
War is like you are a pumpkin
And it is Halloween
Your soul is like those pumpkin insides (they scooped your soul out too)
War throws your heart in the trash
War is like you are a pumpkin
And it is Halloween
War carves you out, war carves your face
Then gives you a fake smile

E. D. is in 6th grade and likes to write poetry. He also likes basketball, building things, and reading. He lives in the Philadelphia area and has read all of Rick Riordan’s books twice. He wrote this poem after listening to a lecture by a veteran

A Child’s Request

We were free, we played, we laughed, we were loved.
We were taken from the arms of our parents and thrown into the gas.
We were nothing more than children.
We had a future.
We were going to be lawyers, rabbis, teachers, doctors, mothers, fathers.
We all had dreams, then we had no hope.
We were taken away in the dead of night like cattle in cars, no air to breathe, crying, starving, dying.
Camps our new home.
A little ration of food was a blessing from g-d
Living in the camps filled us with terror.

Max is an avid soccer player, news junkie, and enthusiastic reader.You can support young writers like Max with a contribution to PSJR today. Click here to read how.

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