Poetry

Closure Never Comes Fast Enough

Cracked lips, bleeding gums,

Devilish grins, dishonest tongues

 

Hushed whispers, desperate wishes,

Despising lovers, meaningless kisses

 

Wait another day, maybe two more,

But still, he’ll walk on out the door

 

Dominique Kendus is a 9th grader living in Wilmington, DE with her twin sister. She loves to write poetry and listen to music, as well as play soccer with her sister.

His Hands, A Silhouette, and The Moon

I faintly remember a short walk up the beaten down footpath,

            Two sets of footprints making craters in the half-dried dirt,

The trees whispered at us as we leisurely made our way past,

            And there were thorns pricking at my shirt.

 

Dominique Kendus is a 9th grader living in Wilmington, DE with her twin sister. She loves to write poetry and listen to music, as well as play soccer with her sister.

What Makes Strength

Being the biggest is not strength
Strength comes from within
Pride does not make someone have strength
No one has power over anyone else
We are all equal
So how is it that people think they are much better than others
Although they may be physically stronger than you
They aren’t mentally
Why, because you weren’t the person to do wrong
That’s strength
Having the courage to be you
And the ability to except others
Show strength and not be a bully

Suaad is in the sixth grade at String Theory Performing Arts Charter School in Philadelphia. Her favorite color is purple, and she wants to be a writer when she grows up. More of her poetry can be found in the Spring 2014 Mighty Writers issue of Philadelphia Stories.

Hands

Hands were meant for holding
For making memories and a difference in the world
We must use our hands for good and not evil
Our hands are a privilege
People can do great things with their hands
A doctor uses his hands to make the medicine that helps to cure us
An inventor makes new creations that helps in our everyday lives
So why can’t the average person do the same
I’m not saying you have to go out and invent a crazy gizmo
But why not try
Make our world a better place
After all our hands were meant for making a difference

Suaad is in the sixth grade at String Theory Performing Arts Charter School in Philadelphia. Her favorite color is purple, and she wants to be a writer when she grows up. More of her poetry can be found in the Spring 2014 Mighty Writers issue of Philadelphia Stories.

Bitter Sweet

What do you see when you first step foot in a meadow?
You see the flowers, the birds, the bees, and the butterflies
You feel the wet, damp grass underneath your feet
Everywhere you look you see beauty
And you can’t possibly imagine anything ruining that moment
But once you look beyond all of this peace and harmony
You’d hear intruding noises everywhere you turn
Bantering adults, crying children, car horns, and sirens in the distance
Witnessing this makes you actually sit and think, “What has our world become?”

Suaad is in the sixth grade at String Theory Performing Arts Charter School in Philadelphia. Her favorite color is purple, and she wants to be a writer when she grows up. More of her poetry can be found in the Spring 2014 Mighty Writers issue of Philadelphia Stories.

Crazy

Crazy 
Lazy
Active
Baby
Cry /crying
Lying
Smiling
Flying
Milk
Mom
Silk
Bottle
Seat
Beat
Treat
Waddle
Crawl
Wall
Tall
Fall
Ball
Sleep
Peep

Juwaireyah Dorsey is in the fifth grade at Universal Institute Charter School in Philadelphia. She writes poetry, short stories, essays and plays. Her favorite subject in school is science, she loves shoes, and her favorite color is baby blue. She likes to hang out with her family and play with her baby sister, Jennah.

Baby

She’s cute and not very tall, but she sure is small
She doesn’t lay as stiff as a log, and when she’s sick she howls like a dog
Her nickname is Tab, she’s not able to drive a cab
This is because she can’t reach the pedals and put the pedal to the medal
She sits in her seat and makes a beat
She’s a little lazy baby and although she is crazy and does not know how to waddle
She sure can drink a bottle
She’s soft like silk
That’s because she drinks lots of milk
Her tongue is white
She likes to bite

Juwaireyah Dorsey is in the fifth grade at Universal Institute Charter School in Philadelphia. She writes poetry, short stories, essays and plays. Her favorite subject in school is science, she loves shoes, and her favorite color is baby blue. She likes to hang out with her family and play with her baby sister, Jennah.

The Yearbook

An innocent nine-year-old girl sat behind a wooden desk
That desk was her home away from home
The days flew by, the teachers droned on
School was simple and life stress free
Recess and gym were a godsend
She had pals, but the desk was still her best friend

Now she is a teenager, and school is a prison
Her desk and friends have turned into plastic
Drama-filled text messages and the usual catfights
Listening to lectures and writing endless essays
Scholarly success versus the social blend

Nisha Bagchi is a student in the eleventh grade at Eastern Regional High School.

A Man’s World (Inspired by Alice Walker’s “Women”)

Be soft
And supple
Hairless like a child
Pluck your brows
Dye your hair
But don’t be so vain
Stand up for yourself
But know your place
Be wife material
But don’t be so needy and dependent
Be strong
And confident
But rely on my compliments for self esteem
Don’t starve yourself
To look like a stick
“Only dogs like bones!”
But don’t indulge
Be sexy
Be curvy
Be thick
But don’t be a cow

Marissa Wenglicki is 15 years old and lives in Feasterville, Pennsylvania. She attends Neshaminy High School and is in tenth grade. She loves books, art, writing, and animals.

Albuquerque

I have known the untamed happiness of chill in early October,
biting against flesh, joy of light blue fleeces tucked up ‘round chins,
all the jubilation of purple dusk skies silhouetted with hot air balloons,
glory in turquoise and silver,
fried dough and alpaca fur,
the beatitude of shadows in the sky lighting up rainbow with the roar of fire,
delight in RVs, museums and Georgia O’Keeffe painted flowers,
burning in the day and crisp as apples at night.
And I have seen mountain homes perched on boulders full of cougars,

Madeline Ragsdale’s poem, “Albuquerque,” is about a trip she and her family took to a balloon festival in October. Madeline is a sophomore at Lower Merion High School, and loves to write poetry and short stories. Music is very important to her; she’ll go to as many concerts in Philadelphia as she can afford, and her parents will allow.

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