Category: 2021-22 Submissions

The cold breeze of peace
An aurora as bright as the sun
The glimmering of the lake

How the birds chirp on the lake
And the sleepy sun
Wakes up in peace

But it was all a dream, the sun
Blazing and the chemicals burning the lake
Pollution. Loss of peace.

Find peace. Salvage our sun. Love our lake.

To write or not to write tis the questioning of reality
the faults of the universe
plains of existence
home of words only known to gibberish
tis our mood, our feelings
tis our insides, our free time
What do we do with this free time
Well I personally use it on poetry for I am a poet as well as a writer
poetry is our rhythm, writing is the glue that holds us together
Poetry breaks that bond, freeing our minds
it bursts through like a bull to a wall
That’s why we write
The feeling of being free feels like water in a flowing stream
We cherish these moments to write and be free even though we have an abundance of them
They still are what we love and how we want to spend time on
Writing, even though this is a school class, is freer than learning
Poetry is the medicine to my illness, the solution to my problems
Poetry opens my mind
it makes me relaxed and relieved Once you find what you love, follow that passion
For me, it’s writing and poetry,
for you, it could be engineering being a nurse or vet or being part of a non-profit
As long as you’re happy, do that
Don’t mind if you’re made fun of For those people only envy your braveness and your courage to follow your dreams
All writers/poets love what we do “tis the way we write ”

I live in a castle made of wide open space and more mysteries to uncover by the day but it’s the fun ones, not the scary ones and there is light but not to much and it is cold when it should be and warm when it should be but never too much just the right amount of both and all the rooms are just ever so slightly off and as i sit her it disintegrates and there is no more wide open space and there are no more mysteries that are fun but not scary and it is no longer cold when it should be and warm when it should be and there is no more never too much of both and there is no more light but not to much and there is no more all the rooms that are just slightly off there is just nothing and it’s ok that way too.

I look to you, poem, that I am writing
To be miraculous
To be powerful
To be award-worthy
To be a deep, interesting, true-self-finding experience
To be a literary masterpiece
To be something that blows the reader’s mind
To be something that surpasses expectations by thousands of miles
To be something that even the toughest of folks break down into sobbing puddles
To be fun to write
To not make me want to bang my head against the table wishing from the bottom of my heart that I could write something else
To be something that I’m at least a little bit happy with

I’m a writer

It’s who I am
It’s who I can be

Writing can take me places without even moving a muscle
I can share my story, other’s, or even someone’s who doesn’t exist
I can release my passion
My joy
My sorrow
My love
My doubt

I can go here to express myself
My story, that others can’t see
It’s my hiding place
My secret notebook

I am a writer, who can never stop

I live in a world that has negatively changed me.
Where I’m never sure if I’ll persist through it all.

I live in a world that can devastate me.
In this big world that makes me feel small.

I live in a world that petrifies me.
With people who always want to brawl.

I live in a world that cannot compromise.
For life and humanity above all.

I live in a world that dehumanizes me.
And thousands of others too.

I live in a world that feels like It’s ending.
Where some feel like it would be better if through.

But I live in a world that is constantly changing.
Those changes for better or worse.

But I live in a world that is rearranging.
Its principles shifting constantly and always changing the verse.

I was the last one.
While they had fun, I was at home.
I was the last one.
When they looked through the screen, all they saw as me.
I was the last one.
They asked why, they asked if I was shy.
I was the last one.
I wanted to go but my parents said no.
I was the last one.
The time had come for me to have fun.
I was no longer the last one.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go but I decided I shouldn’t say no.
I was no longer the last one.
I did not have to smile all the time or miss the fun.
I was no longer the last one.

What do you do,
When you encounter nature?

Do you admire it,
Respect it,
Stop to appreciate its wild beauty?

Do you at least leave it in peace,
Step around it,
Instead of trampling it,
That dainty flower in a world of gray?

Or do you cage it,
Trap it,
Confine it to walls, floors, roofs?

Do you snip the vines,
Chop the trees,
Use innocent nature for your own comfort,
Though it did no such thing to you?

Could you?

First off, I miss them times where I wasn’t limited to sunshine.
I sit in a cell reminiscing on dark times.
But every night I still pray for better times.
Because I still have the hope in the heart that everything is going to be fine.
Yea, I’ve done been locked up a long time.
But I’m finally to the point where there is more behind me than in front of me.
So now I just hope to get out and be what I want to be.

The Black people have been through so much.
We don’t even give ourselves enough recognition for what we’ve accomplished.
A lot of people hate what we have done;
They are astonished if we African Americans come together and fight,
Not with violence, but with our minds that are bright.
We are judged by the color of our skin and talked down on
As if our kind is a sin.
We have so many people who fight for our kind
But we don’t have all the outlets to speak our mind.
We want change,
But we are threatened by some white people to stay in our lanes
We try to love the world and be ourselves
But we are played out like records and put on the shelves.
If we want this to change
We must start now and not let the other kind put us down
Must be in charge for us Black people
Justice for us color people.