Poetry

We invite you to read some of these poems featured in current and recent issues of KidSpirit Magazine and welcome online poetry submissions from teen writers and readers around the world.

Outlooked Intentions

by Charlotte Rauner

Levelheaded mess with outlooked intentions. But there was an artistic boy, who had visionless looks directly to the observant secretly collecting hope. Excluded from the inclusive, the girl had a pressure against ubiquity. A beauty who never met attention she was stripped comfort. But there was an artistic boy deep into no one’s reality seeing

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I See The Night

by Maya Mesh

When the night comes Time has stopped The air gets thicker My vision fogs If I try to fight it No, I will not try to fight it That is one battle I cannot win Better to not even start So, if you my dear friend Who walks among the light See the sun going

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When the Universe Sings Goodnight

by Niti Majethia

And the chameleons like blankets are lullabies in the sky, the clouds are dreams bestowed upon you. The universe is a language decoded in your system, and you are made up of syllables to poems. A soulmate will understand your literature, will heal your tear stained pages. A soulmate will read your poems and converse

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Plastic Tractors

by Will Hodgkinson

First, the plastic tractors. Once, they raced, wheels churning excitedly over asphalt— Down the hill, Mounted by me and my whooping friends— Now the tractors sit, neglected and forlorn In the artificial dusk Beneath the great fir tree. Wheels sunk into black mulch Rancid water pooling in their plastic seats. Draped with cobwebs, Like a

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Still, The Cup Steams

by Sunwrita Dastidar

Cosy and warm A fire blazing A cup steaming Luxury unbound Yet demands More and more lives Given to save Ten thousand here Twenty thousand there One by one they drop Still the cup steams The fire blazes Futile tears are shed No meaning, no feeling Just for show While those who really cry Are

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The Clock

by Nimai Agarwal

Spinning lights into darks, While the crowds swell below, Not pleasant as a lark, My song is one of woe. I suffer, the grim sentinel, The usher of the blind, And yet I do not exist – a child of the mind. The underground I hold, With a hand of steel, Metal monsters leashed below,

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The Lighthouse

by Patricia Luk

 I am the lighthouse  of cracked, crusted paint  on solitary ground. I stand alone against the storm with dignity and pride. I may be homely without beauty, but I do not need those things. I stand from afar, solitary, away from the cities and my kin, the towers of glory. Few remember me, but the

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The Barber

by Tahj Garvey

It’s like a tangent bomb ready to happen You sit in their black leather chair That was once full of mold While they pump the seat as if you were shorter than a pea And you listen to their blabber About which boxer was more famous than the other And you get your hair cut

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Sinister Sounds

by Lucienne Mettam

The sound of someone swallowing, Or knuckles cracking, or gum chewing Strikes me like a razor-sharp rock. I flinch, then I blink, and I look down with shame. As sound hits me again with emergent shock, Pinching me with a dozen clothespins Hanging off my feet, Pulling like a strong ocean tide. Sounds no one

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Self Image

by Morgan Cooper

The way her eyes sparkle when she smiles at me They show her true emotions. But when I smile, My eyes are dead And tired. My eyes don’t sparkle Or shine. Like hers do. The girl I see everyday, In the mirror How I slump when I sit. My back curved, almost like a ball.

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