Maggie

15

Long after breakfast
Her hands still smell like coffee,
so I breathe them in.

I like
smiling seaweed
and speaking saltwater
At the ocean.

Tasting the saltwater
On her skin
Hours After
When our hair is dry but knotted.

Myra

14

Ah, summer...
Butterflies drift through the warm air,
Landing upon the tender petals of the beautiful flowers-
Opaque clouds of smoke arise from the barbecue grill,
Filling the air with a scrumptious aroma of the delectable meal-
Heading through a park, a hyper puppy explores the vibrance of life,
Sniffing flowers and trodding in muddy puddles-
The student smiles and shakes hands with the foreigner,
Welcoming his stay-
A little girl releases an elated giggle as she skips away from her brother in jest,
No worry regarding what tomorrow shall bring-
Dozens of exuberant citizens cheer and sing in the patriotic parade,
Met with the salutes of local authorities-
The family cheers as their favorite comedian takes the stage,
A new joke upon his lips-
An everlasting rivalry between two soccer teams ends only in victory for one.

Maybe this is true in a storybook, but in reality, summer is something else entirely...

Missiles whizz through the warm air,
Landing upon the modest homes of the sinless innocent-
Opaque clouds of smoke arise from the malignant missile,
Filling the air with a repugnant stench of the burning buildings-
Heading through a wasteland, a malnourished puppy explores the absence of life,
Sniffing corpses and trodding in bloody puddles-
The student scowls and curses the foreigner,
Wishing him a horrendous end-
A little girl releases a blood-curdling scream as she sprints away from the soldiers for life,
No idea regarding what tomorrow shall bring-
Dozens of enraged civilians protest and shout in the demonstration,
Met with the attacks of local authorities-
The family watches horrified as the dictator takes the stage,
A new lie upon his lips-
An everlasting rivalry between two nations ends only in victory for one.

Brionna

15

Seasonal Pessimism

Tangible air and sticky storms
call for lightning-struck hearts
to be less electrified and more split apart.

Bursting eardrums in the summer heat
call out to the stage but aren’t heard;
money out of my pockets can’t move me closer.

Stalled wheels in a driveway
call for a destination to reach,
but time can’t move me fast enough to the front seat.

Endless time and later sunlight
call for exercising brain and body,
but reading and staying inside are much easier hobbies.

Floral outfit arrangements and water wonders
call for camera-flash constellations,
but hiding away and covering up is my default disposition.

Quite simply, Summer is no place for
the too sad.
the too broke.
the too young.
the too lazy.
or the too shy.

Katherine

17

Flower in Bloom

Sun on its leaves,
Bright upon green,
This flower is ripe,
With sun and water,
It is green upon green,
In this sea of grass and trees.
In the height of summer,
As the ground turns dry,
And life itself shrivels and dies,
The flower is not quite in bloom,
But survives and waits.
As light turns dim and fades,
Blotting out the flickering light faster,
Shadows give way to the bleak,
For Death in the moonlight,
Gives whispering hints,
Of a time when green is black,
And light is not warmth,
But pain.
Still the flower is wavering,
Wondering, thinking,
What will it be?
When it is as black as night itself,
When it is on the edge,
Of aging or blooming.
Will it be a weed in the grass,
Simply existing,
Seeking the coolness of darkness,
Its roots buried so deeply,
To burn others that encroach upon it.
Or will it be a burning martyr,
With a spread of its angelic wings,
Giving light when most needed,
And fading away so others may live.
Darkness may be eternal,
And light so fleeting.
So when the flower blooms,
It does not believe in its death,
For it has lived on,
In the explosion of light,
A glimpse into what could be.
Others will see it,
Some will not,
But while the flower in bloom,
Is no angel in disguise,
It is eternal in the lives of others.
Flower, flower,
When will I bloom?

Helen

16

human
this one is for all the lost souls
a little too familiar with the feeling of
anxiety, depression, confusion
utter and absolute chaos

this one is for all the spirits afloat
too blinded by the toxicity of
societal standards, expectations, norms
a fragile pandemonium

this one is for all of those who stare in the mirror
only to see a monster they do not recognize
disappointment, an irredeemable creature --
shattered, broken –
never to be pieced together
doomed to an eternal incompleteness

this one is for the loveless romances
the gut-wrenching twist of rejection
the suffocating breath before an endless waterfall of tears
the uncontrollably merciless headaches

this one is for the vindictive combinations of negative energy
the root of problems trapped in bottles --
cataclysmic,
the glass shards wounding the innocent

this one is for the mistreated,
the misunderstood, the misheard
those with an aura so sublime --
each molecule strung together with pulchritudinous passion
but drizzled in insecurity and unenlightenment

this one is for those buried under their own critique,
suffocating under the hounding breath of self-vilification,
drowning – caught in the whirlpool of vulnerability,
plagued by a flood of pure disapproval

this one is for all the lost souls
that should be familiar with the feeling of
acceptance, appreciation, admiration
utter and absolute felicity

this one is for all the spirits afloat
that should open their eyes and see --
endure the epiphanic revelation --
ignore and do not conform to society
paint a masterpiece with the blank canvas that is one’s life

this one is for all of those who stare in the mirror
who fail to see the beauty within themselves
the unfathomable exquisiteness --
natural, real --
always thriving, just hidden
destined to an eternal completeness

this one is for the loveless romances
that lead to another happily ever after –
genuine and true
the moment tears begin to represent happiness
the uncontrollably merciful smiles

this one is for the vindictive combinations of negative energy
that fade into the backdrop of the atmosphere
liberating one to live and thrive –
not just survive

this one is for the mistreated,
the ones that have hit rock bottom --
with that, there’s nowhere to go but up
free, flying, and soaring

this is for those buried under their own critique,
exasperated by their demons --
imprisoned in a landfill of self-harm
haunted by the ephemeral thought of disappointment,
but ready to grow flowers in even the darkest parts of their soul

this one is for you –
beautiful,
broken,
human.

Helen

16

art

He told me to look in the mirror,
to stare, to gaze, to analyze.
He told me to lock eye contact with my facade,
to enter a deep trance of introspection.

So that morning,
when I woke up by the moonlight shyly peaking through the blinds,
I wore my skin like a bandage for a raw wound,
stitched together only by the heart strings of a ghost.
I stood in front of the mirror,
just like he instructed me to do,
and I soon saw myself splintering into pieces.

My muscles were straining,
crushed under the pressure of living.
And my throat burned from gasping through corrupted lungs,
marred like I dry swallowed forty-two pills,
and the after taste of chemicals and powder lounged on the platform of my taste buds.

Empty, hollow –
because I saw nothing more than dust and bones,
a mosaic of a skeleton filled with haunting agony,
a poison drizzling into my soul with the vigor of the salty pounding waves,
a bullet dodging through the gossamer hologram of melancholia.

So I clawed at my guise with such ferocity,
mindlessly branding it with daggers, razors, and jagged disparagement
until I became an incorrigible shell of a former self.
And I was drowned with an ineffable urge to crystallize –
solidify myself.

I have found recovery to be arduous,
with the aches that I almost miss – blinded –
because the cracks left in my spirit overwhelms with loneliness,
yet paradoxically, I yearn for the parasite of heavyheartedness to evaporate –
to dissipate from my blood stream,
because my love affair with misery has scorched the maps I need to navigate
through my constellation of poignancy and woe.

So I plant a garden down my spine,
and fill my veins with ink –
to spill, to stain.
I listen intently to the sea echoing inside my ribcage,
and while I may be Madness,
while the scars on my heart are my fingerprints,
my hands are the thread and my body the canvas.

I stand in front of the mirror.
I see art.

Madeleine

15

Waves of Feelings

Waves of feelings bounce everywhere
Accompanied by brightness all around
Warm air suppresses them like a blanket
Everything silences for a moment

Silence can’t be held for long
As Nature begins to hum
Her birds sing songs of summer
And her plants dance along

Her children play together
In midst of summer heat
The waves start to move again
This time without restraint

Suddenly emotions run amuck
Delight radiates onto everyone
Excitement ricochets off everything
Love pours everywhere

However the end comes closer
And Sadness crawls out
He leaks out of even the smallest cracks
Affecting everyone he can

The other emotions begin to exit
But not without leaving a legacy
Sadness can only do so much
Especially against summer’s Happiness

Cold autumn winds arrive
And the end is verified
Summer never lasts forever
But always comes around again

Matthew

17

“The Sounds of Summer”

“Brrrrrring, brrrrrring!”
Ah, at last, the first sound of summer,
only to be bookended by the first bell
of the coming school year –
one that is, fortunately, oh-so far away…

Until then, ears can enjoy a time-off from
the dry-throated lectures of teachers,
the incessant blare of the alarm clock,
the mind-numbing drawl of the morning announcements;
for these will all soon fade away into
the deepest recesses
of a memory
eased into the comforts
of summer living.

Until then, ears can fall victim to
the goosebump-inducing hum
of nighttime crickets
on camping trips during which
loved ones spill secrets and spooky stories
and noisily crunch into golden s’mores,
before a crackling fire that does not judge.

Until then, ears can be lulled by
the soul-soothing hush of the
summer waves kissing the sandy shore
before children who talk strategy
in designing the most elaborate sandcastles
and moats meant to halt the battle-cry of
valiant knights atop whinnying horses.

Until then, ears can be serenaded by
the ice cream truck’s aria,
gingerly tottering about the cul-de-sac,
twinkling the high-sailing melodies of
the clavichord,
amid sputtering sprinklers
over which dance half-naked
tykes donned in cutesy bathing suits,
giggling in pure delight
to the sensation of
crisp, cold water tickling
sunscreen-lathered skin.

Until then, ears can fall in love with
the blasting honks of vacation-bound cars,
the high screams touting lemonade,
the steady tap of joggers’ feet,
the easy creak of backyard hammocks,
the metallic chime of bike bells,
the soft spray of garden hoses,
the droning hum of lawnmowers,
the electric zap of flitting fireflies,
the light pitter-patter of drizzle
plopping on rooftops, cars, streets,
and the quiet grass
which swaddles
our tanning bodies,
our dirty bare feet,

all the while remaining silent and
awe-struck at the beauty of
summertime squeals
that remind us all
of the carefree glee
of the evanescent epoch…

Laura

14

technology is scary, edison was a witch

1
It is 3:01 in the morning and my eyelids are textbooks they weigh too much and explain too heavily who I am. You never study; you complain I study too hard. You read in between my lines, you look into windows, I’m afraid of looking out my curtain at night because I’m afraid to see something staring back at me, is that why I hate taking selfies? I’ve never taken a selfie I didn’t hate. You’ve never taken a selfie I didn’t love. The selfie you say we look the best in is the one where the lights are off you hate the word selfie I hate the words ‘I need to sleep’ but we both say them anyway
2
I texted her saying that this has reached a point where I am thermometer and my mouth tastes like blood. This makes sense in my mind but I never understand the plots to her favorite movies. It’s just a mass of words, like stars in the sky, but these are a million light years away, I am looking at ones that have already died. I told her I used to want to be an astronaut. I don’t want to be an astronaut. I told I want to be. I told her I want to punch walls
3
She said that she loved me. I told her my knuckles hurt.
4
My phone lit up with the message ‘I fucking hate birds. They woke me up again how much trouble do you think I could get in for murdering a bird?’ And I know you would never do it, you make sure I don’t step on slugs when we walk circles around the block and I’m texting boy of the week at 2 am. You would never murder a bird just like I will never stop falling in love.
5
I said the birds didn’t wake me up because I never got to sleep.
6
It’s 5:25 in the morning and I have your twitter pulled up and I’m constantly memorizing the beautiful 140 or less characters that you seem to come up with. On the Sixth of July your ex-boyfriend and I found fireworks and he should really make a twitter. Reading what his brain comes up with on the spot would make me laugh and he said I was never really on the spot so I kissed him.
7
We were lying side by side in bed and you mumbled how you enjoyed the sound of me typing it was rhythmic and you handed me a sprite and I opened it with the comment ‘It’s like I’m snapping its neck and drinking its blood’ and you made sure I knew I lost my goddamn mind and I told her I was finding it in my poetry
8
Somehow our vacation plans match up so we’re away for a week at the same time and we Skype every single. I’ve never complained more about hotel wifi then when our connection was fuzzy. I held up a Hotel Bible to the camera telling her I found the light and hearing her laugh made me finally miss New Jersey. Having a missed Skype call from her was like a sin
9
We were lying side by side in bed and you leaned forward when you saw my white knuckles in my black hair and you love contrast and I told you there are no decent geometry books online and what if I fail again all I can do is fail the school costs $65,554 and it said so on the website, dude, like on the actual website my mom used my college fund to leave my dad do you realize how fucked up that is on like a serious level?
10
She patted me on the back and told me I’d never actually be a failure
11
It was 2:37 in the morning when we sat on the sidewalk facing each other with our friends sleeping on my bed inside. I told you my mom got clearance to interview for six different jobs in six difference locations and I was fine with moving I thrive on change I think that’s why I dye my hair so often. Wait, did you hear that, I finally have an answer for why I dye my hair so often.
12
You were always good at making me stop talking with things like:
‘Wait. You’re moving?’

Dani

16

For the Wilderness

This summer I learned of love through
the eyes of wild animals. The only way

to get the canaries to trust me was to
learn their language. I´m a singer now.

My voice high enough to call the wolves
in, they never scared me. Especially

not when their teeth teased my skin.
I knew they just wanted to see if I was

a runner. I only was when I was running
through Taiga chasing deer just to see

my reflection in their eyes. We didn’t hunt.
Every new breed we came across we

adopted. I had wings, fur and antlers,
and in turn the now had skin.

Rebecca

15

robin's eggs

it was summer
the first time
you held my hand,
the grass was crisp
and green
and the sky
was robins-egg blue.

even the birds approved.

we lay down under the
canopy of sky
looked up at its infinity
pretended that
we had our own.

we didn’t,
of course.
we never do,
not quite.

but summertime still
reminds me
of the callouses
on your fingertips
as they traced the
outline of my jaw.
i cannot see
green grass
without thinking of your eyes:
the same color
as the sky.

Lawrence

14

The beach
Instead of going there I’d rather drink bleach
All the little kids around do nothing but screech
The seaweed tries to kill you and the shells poke your feet
Just when you want a can of pop
Looking into it you can feel your heart drop
As you see a family of flies doing belly flops
Your drink is ruined but at least you have a book
The author is nice it has a great hook
Getting to the good part before you can look
A ball hits you in the face with no time to brace
You stare at the culprits your eyes full of mace
You start to yell “You’re a disgrace!”
But they hurry away without leaving a trace
Feeling dark with the sun in your eyes
You look at your lunch not letting hope die
This day at the beach it will not make you cry
A peanut butter and banana sandwich
Looking down as your lip starts to twitch
You notice bits of sand on your food son of a bitch!
The birds look up cawing at your food
You feed them some bread not trying to be rude
Their eyes start to focus on your grub they are glued
You slowly pace back
Getting ready for the attack
The birds swarm you your vision goes black
You wake up minutes later covered in crap
Trying to be optimistic you head to the john
As you observe the path the truth starts to dawn
You might as well be walking to Uzbekistan
When you finally get there the line’s a mile long
Your smile is shattered
Your hope lost
What did you do to pay this dear cost?
The hours you spent to reach this beach
Are all spent in vain
Today you have experienced nothing but pain
The next time you think “Hey, I should go to the beach!”
Take heed my friend I do beseech
Find a new activity far from the sea
Stay away from the ocean that’s the key.

Grace

15

__Summer is a time to rest__
__A time to travel, a time to jest__
__The time may be cut short quite quick__
__But I know that I will never get sick__
__Of summer__

Ivory

15

Summertime, time to relax,
you could lay in the shade, or feel the sun on your back.
Perfect time for road trips or barbecue's,
but have fun whatever you do.

Angelina

15

Love and cigarettes

The smell of cigarettes does me some
It makes me remember
The time before I hurt
The days before I needed love
When my smiles came easy
Now at the scent
My eyes run wet
But my heart is met
With nothing but pain

My uncle
He smokes
Tobacco and weed
Strong and heavy
No longer in my heart

My grandfather
He smokes
Tobacco and beer
That's all he knows

I have the urge at the smell
To just melt
Let it overcome me
Just slowly fill me

My lover
He smokes
Yet his reasons are so much deeper
He makes the pain fade

Love and cigarettes
Together always
In my life
My heart

At my highest point
The constants are
Love
And
Cigarettes

Angelina

15

Places

There are places to see
And places to be
But where is best for me?

A big big city
With people and lights

A small little town
With friends and cows

Do I need to be somewhere
Where I can stand tall
Or fall in the shadows
Unknown to all

Places so many
Where do I go?

Maxx

17

Picnic

Harsh bark grating against my spine,
chipper birds spout sharp shrill protest,
Gentle winds push for my early return.
Back-to-the-car
Back-to-your-car.

My basket: a blanket, stale crackers.
Green apple, half a cheddar block,
and a book of published poetry
for which my hands fumbled desperately
in a fleeting moment of inspiration.

Without a blank pad, unarmed but for the pen I pocketed on my way out the door.

Thumbed through fast for a vacant page
without thought to the offence the coming moment would bear.

Scrawling my poem amongst masters’?
As if some fool hurled a candle to the night sky and prayed it might stay there.

Ellen

17

Orange Tree

There is an orange tree out there,
behind that old abandoned garden,
between weeds and unkempt flowers.
An orange tree, out there,
with gnarled limbs sagging under the
nourishment of summer’s radiation.
No, it’s not the one we planted,
the one we danced around.
There’s an orange tree, oh so beautiful.
Burgeoning, flourishing,
deep emerald shades,
vibrant saffron tints,
twilight amber hues.
All glowing in the dusk
of firefly lights.
In this far and remote place, the oranges
bring a scent of freedom mingled with oranges.
Orange tree
-In the earth-
Similar to the orange tree home.
Except ours
-In our earth-
was only a mere flower.

Ellen

17

Shattered Summer

I still remember you
we conned it the party car and the
night was young and
we were, we all were.
Dusk settling off your eyelashes
Your beautiful green eyes and
I could have kissed you right then
As I tossed the keys into your lap
Hollering that it was our time for adventures
The passenger seat never felt this good and
I wanted to reach for your hand
but I just changed the radio to a
pop song that I cannot recall
my hair caught in the wind
tousling it, winding it, and
we sang along loud and rambunctious
Cigarette smoke lingers on me even now
it's funny that your last moment was
happy—a rarity. Leaning out the window
waving both hands, mouth wide open
I should have said something but
my words caught in my throat like diamonds
and I could only think that you were
beautiful, perfection
a moment too good to ruin
Now, nothing, nothing, nothing
but a ache in my heart, pain in my brain
fiery regret in my lungs
ash in my hands
the sky was nearly crying and
red gleamed in the headlights
windows fogged up and everything was ugly
I wasn't ready to say goodbye.
The engine never turned off, the lights never dimmed
the aroma of smoke brings me back to the
past and my thoughts are consumed:
you were beautiful

Ellen

17

Summer Serenade

you had emerald eyes that made
me want to lie, tousled amber locks like
something sun-kissed and honey
or maybe it was the jaw line that enticed me.
but my first thought was that you were beautiful.
my second one came a beat too late
I liked
the way you strummed love on guitar strings,
entangling your voice within my spiral notebooks
teaching me to dance in the rain,
hanging off car windows as if my life
depended on it
the way you made my poetic
words once so eloquent come out
in
ragged
choppy
sentences
because words
mere words
cannot capture you and if you
were a butterfly, you would be
framed before you could
flutter your first wings
across sunburst dawn
you are undefined
a tattered signpost in the wilderness
surrounded by roots and trails of
footprints long walked upon while
the wind weaves between treetops
whistling a melodic tune
you are beautiful, perfection
take me away
take me away