Poetry

By Riddhi Kundu The warning signals sounded so loud and clear to hear, The government sends a word of emerging fear, Angered clouds proceed across the dark sky, That ruins our lives with a big sigh. Teardrops that appear from the heavens, That floods the land with gloomy expressions, Causing havoc and mayhem, Singing a blue and chaotic anthem. Schools switched to remote learning, Offices implemented Work from Home, Pupils, teachers, and employees embraced the quick change, Sl

By Sarah de Caen Through the memories of yesterday, we find our stars where the past walked silently beside us, we bear the traces of what has been, we learn that each scar is a star, each loss a constellation guiding our steps. The present hums in quiet brilliance: we awaken in gentle waves of light, our hearts tuned to unseen frequencies of connection, courage, and revelation. We stumble, we rise, we become the living bridge between what was and what may be. Time st

By Cynthia Jilalo Growth to me as a child was Eating, however, I wanted, Watching television, however, I wanted, Sleeping whenever I wanted, being free to do whatever I wanted. Growth to me as a teenager was talking to boys whenever, Party whenever, Dress however, Being free. Growth to me as an adult after My failures, My mistakes And resilience, Is realising I have always been free. I have always been free To see the world, To be me, To have a say, To grow. Growth to me

By Sidhi Gupta Lower the flags to a half mast, peace has come— And a stalemate arrives on the horizon over the sun, When you blink do you see the strobe lights? Bruised at your knees from fighting yourself to sleep My wonderwall, why do you paint yourself red? You’re a sign of freedom yet you’re as caged picture frame I wish I could gaze inside the spirals of you for a moment, maybe, A carpet to the feet of those who need a minute of ecstasy. A self destructing star, hot to t

By Amanda Grace Moyer For the Man upstairs, He bows his head. Then climbs in the shoot, Whilst his name is read. Though he’s an opponent, Other cowboys give their best. With words of encouragement, And a slap on the vest. With his last dollar, The fees have been paid. Gets his mind right, There’s a check to be made. He warms up the rope And takes a wrap. His buckle down, Pockets off the back. Sliding on up, Another prayer to God With a “Buck ‘em!” He gives a nod. This is it

By Annmarie Cephas The story must be told The diary must unfold. I recorded these pages, Ages ago on heated streets Where monsters reined; Call it aspects of social conditions, Youths victimised by imposters A pawn in the scheme; being, bribed, used, manipulated; Breakers of the Law, in wolf clothing,who cash out on the innocent with wages. The story must be told The diary must unfold. As ‘Intelligence’,they prey; On needy hearts of youngsters, for selfish and unju

By Natalie Jukes The male lion roars to send his enemies away. His roar can be heard from far far away. The lionessess hunt to feed the hungry pride. Their baby cubs are playful and stay by their side. The elephant can walk almost silently with their soft padded feet. They love munching on grass and never eat meat. They use their powerful trunks for smelling and eating, as well as caressing their young. They love to go swimming and role themselves in mud, to protect their ski

By Emily D'Addieco We breathe our first breaths into a seemingly unpredictable setting. Blinding lights rip away the security of gestational comfort and darkness. Screaming and bloody, birthed into a pristine hell— looks like everyone else forgot this is how it starts. Never to be held by the unknowing of having not started a single thing again. Ready, set, go. …but to where? With who? Why even try? Instructions not included should’ve been the disclaimer that cam

By Dhruv Tangri The first time I cried since the news of his demise, It was when twenty-one gunshots were fired into the sky. I was brought to the present with the frantic fluttering of scared koels flying, I could only hear the faint, distorted sound of trumpets and chirping, Till then, I was smoking the past laced with opium, when he was alive. I was lost in my thoughts till I had lost my mind, Reading every page, every single letter in my library of books, Pages etched

By Zaina Haque Like a summer day in New York, you sneak in without ruckus– creating a tender pitter patter that tickles the concrete right before cracking it open. Splitting into a thousand liquid bullets you strike the city– you scream your rebellion. To you, falling is the same as flying and crashing down is the only path to cutting free. Except freedom is never absolute when the sky has its claim and you have your consequences. For every escape, you return like a ghost mad

By Bilal Salman Ahmad What if the fault is mine to bear, a weight too heavy, yet always there? What if my love is sharp, not kind, a storm that rattles your peaceful mind? What if my family taught me fear, to guard too tightly all I hold dear? What if my jealousy, raw and wild, is nothing more than a broken child? What if in trying to pull you close, I push you away, and hurt you most? What if my silence, my nervous frown, is the reason our pages keep falling down? What if my

By C.R. Doolan A tree starts it’s journey in the ground, Curled up against cold, damp soil. Tucked so tightly it fears it may burst, And it does. It cracks around the edges, And it shoots from the ground. And though it had felt like it was dying, It was only being born. And without bursting, it would have stayed tucked up in soil, For the rest of it’s endless life, Instead of simply growing from the ruins. And then it begins to grow on two different sides. One side stretch

By Nicole Cervonaro It begins with the oil can Each joint begs, jaw clenched From dreams, nightmares Head full of straw There’s light outside Is it the sun or the incessant Lamp in the courtyard? The earth continues to spin And so does my head Reaching for something solid, stable My hand just catches air Coraggio Bully Bottom Wait.. that’s the wrong story I have the nerve to face another round But will my broken body let me? I’m ready for another journey down the yellow roa

By Skylar Nipper I think I’ll always be black coffee And the number 47 and half-fallen-apart shoes. I think I like driving cars that never quite work right And jump and sputter in the engine every morning And hold the smell of smoke in fabric seats Like they’re trying to breathe it in themselves Because those cars feel like the year 2017 And 2:45a.m. and music made in the basement. I think I’ll always be 2-day-old eyeliner Because sometimes you learn to carry The cold metal w

By Khalelia Ahmad “Define madness, something like how the late Shakespeare portrayed in his plays, And Hamlet would know, how the heart burns for a person against the mind, One which was conditioned to be skipped, overlooked, and the hopeless cells sway, Wanting to give in, let's forget what people say, listen to the wind, take me away. My mind more guarded than before to keep the loving thoughts at bay, or astray, Whatever it takes to keep the heart from tak

By Emma Margaret Expression; Part 1, “Sister” By Emma Margaret. My hair used to be green, then purple, then pink. I dyed it’s conformed brown. Hiding it’s hues in layers of blues, A formed, not born crown. Never remaining the same, It hypnotically appeared soft, angelically crossed. To adjust to a linear escape would be to hesitate, As my hair faltered if it halted. My sister has short hair, It’s genetically blond, with natural highlights. It’s soft and it’s healthy, and she

By Amira Wells Feeling empty without you, not knowing what to do. I get this sense of loneliness; you're not in my space anymore. My insides feel so melancholy, so hollow. All flesh is nonexistent. Things falling apart, bones breaking, trying to keep it together. It’s like trying to hold wood with a feather; easily breaking. I need strength, your strength. I can’t do this by myself anymore; it hurts my bones too much. Pain reaching to the depths of the center Like a screw tur

By Melody McCoy-Cole Haunting secrets loom over your head, Worse than the monsters that lie under your bed. Next to you lies your wastebasket full of your vomit and pride, Confidence so low you can only hide. Hide your secret, hide your disease, hide all the ways you displease yourself and me, Throw away the garbage but keep the self-hate, remember to recycle your smiles so you can learn to appreciate. Appreciate your master, the controller of your mind, the one who controls

By Abraham Fashakin I thought I loved Her For Her soul. For Her infectious energy, a catalyst for excitement to rise, Her presence, A clear indication She has arrived, Her personality, Shining like the ever present sun. But one fateful night— I thought about the future. I thought about how I would feel; how She would feel if we were together. Thinking it over, I thought about severing our relationship; about breaking the chain between Her and me. The chain refused to break.

By Sagar Tikyani By Sagar Tikyani