“A Dream Called Hope” by Isabel Fowler / “Nurturing” by Lucy Lee

A dream called hope

Isabel fowler

Our Hope feeds our Dreams

Like the muse feeds the artist

Like the sky feeds the bird

Like the sun keeps us alive

Hope is a lightness

Centered in your chest

That expands

And contract with every second

We breath it in and out

Our breath has been stifled

Blackened by the same smog blocking our light

Suffocating us

But I still feel Hope

I still feel Hope

I covet it,

Smuggle it

Hide it under my pillow at night

Hold it tight to my chest

The Hope

That one day,

I will see children and not mourn for them

For the life they’ll never have

The life robbed from them before they ever reached the cradle

But Hope

It’s the best type of flowering weed

Growing in the sidewalks

Up concrete walls

Out of the ashes

But Hope

It’s a prayer whispered

When a babe is born

A blessing given

In hard times

A cry in our chest

Carried across the world

And a heart that beats

We will change this

nurturing / lucy lee

“Gaia” by Faiz Shaikh / “Natural History” by Ansley Teal

natural history / ansley teal

GAIA

Faiz Shaikh

When a man brags about his love– claiming:

“She is more lovely than a summer’s day” I state

with greater pride: “Not so–” boasting: “Earth’s

beauty be greater, though it won’t stay.”

“Why–” says he “the sun shines the birds still fly.”

“No–” (quod I) “mankind be like a plague– a

Disease– polluting Earth’s sea, land and sky;

When was the last time you heard the blue jay?”

“But all’s not lost sir if you go outside–

Plant trees, go green, help to stop pollution–”

Say I with hope for Earth where we reside

“Don’t neglect the Eco Revolution.”

“Earth can be saved if we do not blunder;

Remember that Nature is our Mother.”

“Build Up” by Ronald Bailey / “Halfpace” by Olivia Wilson

halfpace / olivia wilson

Build Up

Ronald Bailey

You can never have too much sky.

Buildings stand so high, so proud, defiant. No cracks. No waver. No weakness.

The walls stand so high, nothing gets through them.

They are made to hold against pressure and hold everything inside

Every crack is seen as an error or failure; patched up just like that, but the mark is forever

internalized.

They hold up against it all, or, do they?

They fall so fast, so loud, so messy, so emotional.

All it takes is time and pressure.

One by one,

the cracks form,

and no one can see them

Why do they fall, why do they stand, why do they weather all that pressure?

Because they are forced to

3,..2,..1

They fall, They crumble, They are a mess.

Are they weak?

or Strong,

or Both

“May There Be No Rain” by Porter Ninstant / “Untitled” by Carl Warren

Carl Warren

May There Be No Rain

Porter Ninstant

Born innocent not knowing right from wrong

I was naive

A child in my thoughts so pure but can’t perceive

As I grew I knew the sky was blue with trust all round

But as I flew I saw reality for what it is

IT made no sound

Any place I looked it seemed so safe so free

Yet every year that changed life swallowed the dream

That same dream that gave US speech

not just a voice

it’s pain that we speak

Pain driven by in-difference

Pain rectified and availed to win wars with

Pain is all we know

NOW…no more of this

I wondered for a time where do I go from here

The times of woodchips and bruised knees is far from near

Childhood memories achieved through innocence

A cold world brought up between lust hate and Ignorance

Will not blemish the signs of change

that we now live with

Suddenly change will be upon us

wanted or not we must see the past that haunts us

I don’t believe history will repeat

Only we can overcome us

Only we can stop the light from burning at the end of that tunnel

Only we can keep that flag waving in support of not

who we are

who we were but

who we will be

It is every I us and them that needs to see

That it is we not the individual that is free

No more

My heart began to change and views seemed surreal

OUR vision saw the ugliness of what was truly real

Why did this happen

Why is there fear

Why so much anger

What is it that we’re doing here

WE will make the difference and let the whole world see

My hope is that’s tomorrow

though I doubt that it will be

For now I’ll make truths and strive to do my part

I’ll fight and search for hope in the dark

May peace reign

May we feel no pain

May there be no rain

May we feel no strain

Make US great again.

“Moonlight” by George Brizzell / “Untitled” by Zayne Abdullaeva

Zayne Abdullaeva

moonlight

George Brizzell

As we sit around the bright orange flame

It shimmers and dances moonlight.

And shakes under the

You look around at all your friends and family,

And they’re laughing and you laugh

At the conversation going around.

But your attention returns to the crackling, chard logs

That sits glowing red at the bottom of the ring.

They fascinate you.

How their colors change from

Brown, to black, to white, to red,

Then…POOF…gone.

The dancing flame dwindles down

Until she dances no more.

When all the logs are gone,

You say farewell, until tomorrow.

As the hot coals cool, you walk home

And can’t wait to do it again tomorrow.

When the flame will dance again,

Under the moonlight.

9th & 10th Grade Writing/Art Contest – A Single Place

9Th & 10Th grade writing/art contest: A single place

eva berglund (winner)

Dozens of gray plastic desks line the room in rows and large round tables line the back wall. Hard blue chairs matched neatly with each one, metal baskets underneath the seat. The squeak of whiteboard markers on the board, notes written from period to period. A large desk tucked securely in the front corner of the room with dark wooden drawers and nicked table top. Sunlight streams in from the windows, illuminating dust specks that float through the hazy afternoon air. Faded maps decorate the walls, showing the world in shades of every color in the rainbow. Afternoon class.

neko lin (runner up)

Kőbánya cellar system

josiah mo (runner up)

The looming vaulted arches, uniformly situated, perpendicularly casting their shadows upon the pathway below. Eerie torches allocated at the base of the wide arches, humming gently as they give off their radiant glow. The moist ashen limestone walls, their insalubrious contents infested with mold, their dilapidated quality quid autem pulchritudinous. A well trodden passage, saturated with water on both sides, as if they contain the souls of those who walked here of yore. Gloomy shadows, looming over the path, all is quiet bar the gentle pitter patter of loose water drops.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

sriman iyer

THERE’S AN EERIE SILENCE ON TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN

hannah berkun

There’s an eerie silence on the top of the mountain.

Peace before everyone awakens.

With the sun in its early stages,

fighting the moon for power.

It’s the first day of spring

and yet the weather feels far from it.

I can see my breath.

Snow is still visible from the peak.

But when the sun rises,

Illuminating the sky with its yellow rays.

The ice seems to melt away,

The lake becomes vibrant and blue.

In a few minutes the whole world

goes from silence to booming.

Looking down from the summit

Reveals a forest bustling with creatures.

The sky now filled with colors,

Is something I could look at everyday.

mary keniry

“Light” by Birtu Diefenderfer / “Cacophony” by Katherine Conjalka

Light

Birtu diefenderfer

Amiss the chaos , injustice and political demise

Through the corruption, hunger and pollution of the skies

Lies a beacon, a whisper, uttered at night

Providing comfort, hope , a cradle of light

A mother, a teacher , an overworked nurse

All trying , struggling to put cash in each’s purse

Despite the challenges, setbacks, and inner doubts

They survive on love, tackling any problem that sprouts

Lending a hand to neighbors, learning to forgive

Because anger and hate are demons no one can outlive

cacophony / katherine conjalka

“Stroll Through the Street Market” by Cindy Yoon / “Untitled” by Ammara Nazir

untitled / Ammara Nazir

Stroll Through the Street Market

cindy Yoon

Singapore awakens to the call of the Myna birds.

Their song

echoes

welcoming a new day.

Aunties and Uncles roll up their stalls,

Revealing a plethora of goods underneath.

The pungent odor of durian

The sweet scent of bak kwa

And the fiery aroma of chili flakes

Dance around creating a unique scent.

A scent special to Singapore.

The endless summer sun beats down,

upon the sea of people.

Women in Baju Kurungs, Men in Dhotis, Girls in Qipaos.

All from different cultures,

United together with delicious food,

A quiet but loud harmony.

To truly see Singapore’s hidden beauty

You must stroll through the street market yourself

“Stage Fright” by Lucy Beyer / “Float” by Ansley Teal

float / ansley teal

STAGE FRIGHT

lucy beyer

I could hear laughing like being held underwater by playful waves crashing down on my head laughing laughing laughing me under.

It’s like being wrapped tightly in a blanket composed of your own thoughts. Except the blanket gets too tight and starts to suffocate you.

Like an anaconda and it’s prey,

my thoughts and me.

I’ve fallen prey to my own thoughts and it’s slowly killing me. No matter how hard I try, the screams of self-doubt and anxiety run wild through my brain. No matter how hard I try, they’re too fast for logical thinking to catch up. No matter how hard I try to remain still and calm, the real me fades away as I’m left in the dust, and soon there is nothing but fast heart beats, and sweaty shaking hands.

No matter how hard I try to take deep breaths,

no matter how hard I try to lower my ever increasing heart rate,

no matter how hard I try to focus on a single person in the crowd,

no matter how hard I try to steady my hands,

my thoughts are too fast for me to catch up.

I stare at the audience. They stare back. I feel frozen in time.

I could hear laughing like being held underwater by playful waves crashing down on my head laughing laughing laughing me under.

*Italicized text from Jason Reynolds’ Long Way Down

“Restless” by Jack McBain / “Untitled” by Elliot Martin

Restless

jack mcbain

Losing focus

as thoughts

race through my head a mile a minute.

Bouncing leg

joining my brain

in the ever, changing, current,

of thoughts.

Fingers tapping, the relentless, beat, of my mind.

TapTapTapTap

Following the chorus, of the sound, while it races through me.

Thoughts derailing

as others take their place

and continue down the tracks.