Poetry

Battle Scars

The scars—
What are they?
Don’t worry,
I’ll be fine

The scars—
What are they?
Something I
Left behind

The scars—
What are they?
A dark secret
Of mine

The scars—
What are they?
They’ll go away
With time

The scars—
What are they?
A war within
My mind

My America

Blue and white
Flimsy plastic lines
Woven together, grated
Down in a row
Foldout chairs on the
Asphalt, yellow and dotted
Line of Main St.
Small town Mayville, NY.
July Fourth, it is a Monday
This year, not the last
When chapel bells rang
Rhythms conflicting
Brass bells clanging
With the toots of the
Sirens ready for the Parade.
Small town not lacking
Conviviality, when the
Shriners spin by motors
Churning humming red
Race strips running 13
To the American flag.

Laura Haskin is a senior at Friends Select School in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Her creative nonfiction and poetry has been published in Philadelphia Stories and The Bell Literary Magazine. In her spare time, she enjoys cooking and functions as the founder of a food and travel blog, The Cedar Kitchenette.

"For You A Thousand Times Over"

There is a Polaroid image
Vintage- yellowed and crisped
Corners folded, labeled in
Smeared sharpie with those
Curves of your letters
I knew them so well
Two faces pale yet
Flushed by the summertime
Sun beaming down
Spotlight to our embrace
Father, I remember
Fragments of those stories
Like fairy tales recited
Again and again
For you I would tell them
Re-spin those journeys
My own words molded
To the melody pulsing
Through the blood in our
Veins- slowing like our
Heartbeats-synced

Laura Haskin is a senior at Friends Select School in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Her creative nonfiction and poetry has been published in Philadelphia Stories and The Bell Literary Magazine. In her spare time, she enjoys cooking and functions as the founder of a food and travel blog, The Cedar Kitchenette.

That Feeling You Get Sometimes

Sometimes I sit in my room
and I feel like my walls are closing in
But this makes me feel like a hack,
because everyone and their grandmother has said this
I don't know, maybe I am a hack

Sometimes I choke on the words
that I wish I could muster the courage to say
And sometimes I say them anyway
Only to apologize for how I feel
Just to spare others

Sometimes I think about punching somebody
I don't mean that I want to punch somebody
I just think about a specific instance
When he pushed me too far

Ian Greenleaf is in the tenth grade at Pennsylvania Leadership Charter School. He was inspired to write by a few of the poems included in our last issue, specifically "My Rain." He loves reading experimental fiction, and writing both prose and poetry.

The Truth of August

He rode on a bicycle in the middle of August with a sunflower between his teeth.
He ran through a field and sang to the stars, and I swear, they heard him.
He looked like an angel, that is for certain.
He smelled like the aftermath of rain.
He decided to love me with all of his might.
He then said that it wasn’t a choice.
He was scared of the world, the one that I faced.
So he guarded me with his collection of books.
Kept me safe with his never ending stories.
Locked me away with his brilliant smile.

Darci Gold is a sixteen-year-old student of Haverford High. She has loved literature from a very young age, and frequents old bookstores to find hidden treasures. Darci loves writing poetry, short stories, as well as longer pieces to express herself and engage with others.

Us Overload

We’re comin’ through ur speaker

Runnin’ through ur town

We’re pourin’ through ur headphones

And ur eyes are turnin’ brown.

 

We’re pumping up the volume

And we can’t be stopped!

Ur brain is leakin’ out ur ears

Ur head’s about to pop.

Spongmay Khan is in the sixth grade and loves to write raps. He really wants to be a rapper when he grows up (or even right now)!

Hands Up, Don’t Shoot

      Hands up, don’t shoot

Stop the unnecessary violence

Plain innocent people getting shot

By the cops,

And I thought they were supposed to protect us.

Hands up, don’t shoot

May 16th, 2010

Azariah Collins attends Girard Academic Music Academy in South Philadelphia. She is in the fifth grade and is a dancer, actress, and published poet. She has been with Mighty Writers for four years.

Time

Time, time is the key

Time is something you can stop

Time is a part of our life

Time is what we waste or spend

Time is order

Time is like a force in a jar that can’t be held

Time is you

Time is something that your mind won’t understand

So what is time itself?

Caleb Bryant is a fifth grade student at Universal Institute Charter School in South Philly. This is his first year with Mighty Writers and he is a budding philosopher, poet and painter. He expects to play for the NBA after finishing college.

Winter Explored

As white as sugar

as cold as ice

slippery and sparkly

oh, isn’t it nice

 

Soft, small, silent flakes

falling like tiny feathers

woosh, wash big winds

causing outrageous weather

 

Drinking hot chocolate

Juwaireyah is 10 years old and is in the fifth grade at Universal Institute Charter School. Her favorite color is blue and her favorite subject is science. She wants to be either a doctor or a cosmetologist when she grows up. 

Golden

We shine like LED lights

Glimmering like sparkle dusted stars

Our smiles like pearls

But nothing is more golden than our hearts

Suaad is a young writer who mainly enjoys poetry and deep novels with lots of mystery, which are her inspiration for her stories and poems. She also loves to help others improve their writing by using her pieces as inspiration, hoping that one day they, too, will love writing.

Syndicate content