Poetry

Blue

by Victoria Rathernottell

Blue is vastness The sea drooling Waves crashing against rocks My mirrored image staring at me From moonlit ocean tides Blue is hope, rejuvenation Owls screeching, snow melting Trees sprouting in the plain Sparrows painting twilight Stars flourishing; the moon chanting Someone falling into the sky Blue is peace Deer skipping through pools of diamonds

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Here Comes Winter

by Angela Nguyen

Sometimes, Winter is an old man, hobbling along slowly, spreading only a thin layer of snowy powder, like dandruff, from the tip of his knobbly cane to the cracked pavement. Old Man Winter, his tenuous grasp on the season breaks easily with the swift and spritely step of Spring. Other times, Winter is a young

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Immortality, Poetry, and a Whole Lot of Spinning

by Noorjehan Asim

Words have, and always will be, a powerful way for humans to convey their thoughts and feelings to others. Yet despite so many ways to communicate, humans still live in a world very divided. There are many ways for us to live in peace; why then do we choose to travel the tougher path? Coexistence among

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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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My Dawn

by Richard Guzman

Stuck between two roads One of light One of dark I must make a choice with heavy heart What to do Should I move? Can’t I stay? No! A choice They ask and it must be clear Both roads call Each in one ear But sick of both I finally scream Neither! Just let me

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The Big Apple Is a Poem Itself

by Niti Majethia

Coldness had tiptoed into New York City as the winter bird had begun weaving its nest. It let out chirps in the air and I swallowed them in, my tummy tumbling. I walked through the neighborhood of New York University, my heart bustling, just like the city. It was November 11th, 2012, and of course,

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Carry On

by Will Livingston

Yellow pants, yellow shirt, black boots, red heart. Trapped with burning limbs that aren’t his, He wears no cape, just a breathing apparatus, And adrenaline levels higher than a skyscraper. With no complaints and no questions, He submerges himself into a pit of hate, Facing an enemy that will never give in. An enemy that

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God

by Zeeshan Andoh

  Striking hope in believers’ hearts, A fragile flame, Corrupted by the slightest touch, Causing raging wars, deaths, Beliefs torn apart … to shreds.   Zeeshan Andoh  

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The Waiting Room

by Isabel Bautista

The lightsome little toddler across the waiting room was fixated on his lofty structure composed of bold, slightly used, plastic building blocks. He grabbed another piece from the modest bin in the corner that lacked exciting gadgets and gizmos to keep an ingenious young mind entertained. Yet the child was still able to see the

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Backyard Woods

by Isabel Bautista

The woods — a still atmosphere Yet teeming with life under the surface, The gnarled tree branches, The moist ground underneath, The decayed perfume fragrance, Tumbled in the breeze. We moved forward, No direction in mind, Following a course that was not predetermined, Shoes barely making a sound, On the slippery glistening leaves That did

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