Noemi

16

My Favorite Sounds

The sound of your name is the sweet humming to the tune of my favorite song
The rumbling of the ice cold refrigerator on a hot summers day
or the pouring of a warm cup of hot cocoa mid winter

The sound of your name is the whirling of the wind gently tousling the leaves down the road
The shuffling of pebbles and gravel beneath a pair of tired feet on a long walk home
or the splashing of a child hopping from puddle to puddle

The sound of your name is the soothing patter of rain against my window
The crackling of burning wood in an open fire
or the crashing of waves along the coast

The sound of your name is all of this and so much more
So many more beautiful sounds I have yet to be exposed to
but the most hypnotizing and mystifying sound, I know, will always be the sound

Liv

16

Summer Daze

You wake and bake
but it isn't pastries.
The stench clings to our clothes
but we don’t really care.
It’s a badge of honor to us.
We parade around town
after working, having only made
two dollars and twenty five cents per hour.
We aren't poor, but we aren't loaded either.
You can practically see
the entitlement
dripping from our Zippos and bottle opener keychains.
We have little time left
to experiment in ways
that aren't detrimental now,
but come September they would be life threatening.
Our windows are closing.
You leave soon.
Our sneaking around,
kissing behind fire escapes,
drinking our weight in Gatorade
and buying cigarettes we aren't old enough to buy
will soon stop.
Our secret piercings,
analog photos,
and late night roof parties will be done.
It’s a form of preemptive grieving.
A preemptive grieving that isn't pastries.

It doesn't even feel good anymore.

Abigael

14

Welcome to Summer

There is the silence in the atmosphere,
Of a late morning, fan humming in our ears.

There are those hot, restless nights when we keep our eyes open squinting at the large four digits that represent the time,

Our fingers swiping screens across multiple social networks, our minds not able to let our eyes fall.

Colors are vividly luminous, the sun beats down on our skin, rays digging into our pores.

The fiery blaze causing desires and fears to ignite inside of us in those long, dark nights. Our sweat latches onto us like leeches, clothes sticking to our skin, trickling off our limbs.

Time fly’s, fly’s, fly’s away and time is running together. Seconds, minutes, hours melting together, molding themselves to each other.

Secrets come to light, hearts are wild, and the world is sizzling.

Look at the diamonds in the cerulean sky. They unite and form pictures, scenes for us, and tell us stories.

Everything is bright and bold; blinding us.

We all thrive and dance in the same sweltering, smoldering fire.

Welcome to Summer.

Aubrey

17

Reawakening

we were hopelessly lost with winter
we nearly suffocated with spring

summer was my salvation

life's lungs were filled with
new breath
hope grew with every awakening
blossom
my soul began to shed its skin of hibernation
& sprout
up through the cracks
of the
underground abyss
where we were held captive
by society's neglected toxins.

each night I breathe in more of the moon
& each day I swallow more of the sun
the grand remedy
to cure all creatures
that have found themselves broken
under the weight of the world's demons

midnight melodies of the season's
most harmonious insects leak in
through the windows
lulling me into chimerical dreams

awake
moving through the white heat
pregnant with elaborate thoughts
of the past
present
& future

oh sweet shade of trees
oh tender wind of seas
tickle me pink
as the lemonade sticky on tongues
of the children next door

dog days
nurturing me back into luminous existence

life ignites in me with no relenting
& I ask for no mercy
for nothing could be as good,
make me as whole.

alive
within & without
such magnificence
to be so alive

summer
was
my salvation

Max

16

As I sweat and I sweat from the sun’s hot oppression
I wipe away droplets but not the depression

I sigh out of tune with the kids’ laughs of mirth
And notice instead that I’ve increased my girth

I’ve done nothing but sit on this darned light tan couch
Avoiding neighbors like some reclusive grouch

No movies, no beach on this lousy vacation
But really I’m sad about my motivation

The plans that I had for the summer to come
Have come to fruition like a nouveau riche bum

No books that I’ve written or even picked up
So I’ve buried my sorrows in too much 7-Up

Now summer’s ten weeks are nearly done
I observe as I see a mid-August sun

But… nothing stops me from writing all year
I’ll write snippets of stories there as well as here

I smile to myself with my epiphany
“I’ll write a book by December, just watch, you’ll see.”

Jisu

16

Overcrowded with red cups, faded vision, one more drink
Back aches with sore muscles, sweltering heat, only five more to plant
White walls, endless tests, reach nothing less than a 2100
Pages of formal writing, clipboards and coffee breaks, Where has my life gone?

A time of endless Disney channel and nickelodeon
When sweet watermelon and water fights awaited at home
When the sun was just right and you could read while resting on the hammock
A time that once was and never could be again

Now it’s time for beer pong or binge drinking of vodka
Or even working to pay the debt of your parents, to promise your brother a better future
Or even competing your friends to reach that SAT goal and become the next Einstein
Or even interning in your dad’s corporate company because you are our tomorrow

Remember when we never cared?
Oh, how we longed to grow up and have fun
To become our own superheroes and save the day
To laugh live with laughter and enjoy our days with love
Where did they go?

As we grow up to become part of the society that we always deemed “adult”
As reality becomes truer than anything else,
The reminiscence of my childhood remains
As a cherished memory,
A time that once was and never could be again

Sierra

17

"Last Summer"

I can still remember-
The rusty playground,
Only a pair of swings,
A merry-go round,
Laughing and playing like children once more,
Endless music and singing.

Climbing to the tops of trees,
Daring each other to go higher,
Until a rope was found,
An idea had formed,
What could go wrong?

Swinging from the tree,
Heart pumping and hands sweaty,
Taking that leap of faith over the water,
Letting the rope go and feeling your stomach drop.

Splashing and swimming,
Jumping from trees with wild screams,
A car is coming down the road,
Everyone hides in the water with a hush,
Lights go by and all is silent,
Moonlight reflecting off the water.

A single moment of time,
Wishing I could freeze it forever,
That minute of silence,
That minute of calm,
When we felt on top of the world,
Knowing we would no longer be children in the morning.

Ja'Taun

17

I sometimes wish I were a teddy bear. Not a Winnie the pooh or care bear, but I wish I was a brand less teddy bear. That knew, that really knows what love is. That you would pass down to your kids and give them a tale, saying this is what kept me safe at night. I wish that I was that plaything that you gave superpowers, you would tell your parents I flew to distance galaxy, and battle the oppression of bedtime. I want to be that part of your childhood you always keep with you, the part that if you lost you would cry a river to me til I floated back into your arms. I wish I was that protector that shielded you from harm and drunk fist. I'll let you cover your eyes from the nightmares that manifest themselves in the shape of your father. Cover your ears from the sounds that wake like morning. I let you rest your weary head on my soft fuzzy skin and dream of better tomorrows. I wish I was that teddy bear you keep in your attic locked up with a childhood when the adults rules are to much to bare. Let me bare it with you. And squeeze me when tears break through your eyelids like the floodgates opened to soon. I sometimes wish I was a teddy bear, wrapped in your arms only love could grasp, and I wish your gasp and signs for: was when you wanted to find the I love you, the I miss you in my orbit. I sometimes wish I were a teddy bear.

Ja'Taun

17

Let's put a pin in this piece of literature and call this poem a dedication. Let's dedicate it to boys and girls, to girls that hate being girls. To boys that wanna be beautiful. Lets call this a dedication. To the queers that say weird has many shades, just look to the sky after the storm passes. Lets call this a dedication, to the transgender child that try slit their wrist hoping that it would cut them free. That struggles to breathe because their voices are gone and they can't yell for salvation. Lets call this a serenade to the hearts that break into tombstones after the strings are no longer playing symphonies. After giving up love and never giving in on yourself. Lets call this an obituary. For those that don't make it to the promise land alive. To the millions who bones and blood make the grounds fertile and sea wider. Let dedicate this to the slaves of societies norms. That find their pulses becoming suicide bombs with every deep inhale. To those who find curses chanting are as simply as the "I love you" we hear so often.Lets call this a white flag to the breaking point of hope. When broken vows start to leave scars and your tears become dust. Let this be a dedication to the ones still breathing and still having the ability to move through life with hands in the air still grasping for what's left of light in this world. This is a dedication, to the girls and boys that have no intent to be another label in an unorganized existence.

Joyce

14

Procrastination

Checkered pages and ticking hands,
Innocent until my eyelashes
Unravel like
A butterfly’s unfurling wing.

The blinds keep the sun’s secret.

Wrapped in my 300-thread-count cocoon,
Tooth meets lip, a reminder
Never to sneak a glance through
A million-mile pane of starshine glass.

The sun runs his race;
Better not to ask today’s new record
So silk skin can kiss
Sweet rose sheets
A few minutes longer.

The sun and I
Wade knee-deep
Through a heat-shimmer divorce.
With every X-marked box,
His stride lengthens and his pace quickens.

I simply go through the motions.

When the sun (inevitably) abandons me
I scrawl words in ink,
Promises that tomorrow
My feet will fly with his.

A black slash halves another box.

Esul

16

Flood Warning

My shoes have become swamps.
When it’s quiet, I can hear scales
Scraping against my feet,
As alligators glide between my toes.

Slugs slowly inch up my ankles,
Making their way to my knee caps.
In the shallow groove where
My thighs begin, they lay their eggs.

Sedge grass sticks to the undersides
Of my socks, green on green on green.
Floridians slip out on occasion,
Lost, looking for the Everglades.

Eventually, I take this swampland,
With my laundry, down to the basement.
I set the machine to perm-press,
My micro-world is drowned in soap.

My shoes are no longer a dirty gray.
But I miss the smell of oranges
That came with the Sunshine State tourists,
Who rode their airboats on the surfaces of my soles.

Olivia

15

THE WAIT

The wait for when
cloudy days fit in
like crotchet in a knitted
sweater reminds me
there is more
to life than dashes
and dots on a report
card and paragraphs shine green
and bloom yellow soon
to be clustered
and raked into brown
rustling piles just like I
will be raked
with the constant wait
again

William

18

My name is not your slave. It's so unknown
that even postcard letters slip it by.
A grayish length of air off wind and bone;
uncertain rain through afternoon's white sky.
It's like this, too: Rehoboth, Lewes lay,
the salty, sticky mess of beach, reclined.
The crushing, lonely gratitude that day:
What made me fear the ones with whom I dined?
T-Mac, fatigued, seems ready to collapse,
And so am I; I'm happy, just subdued.
A break from panic means I will relapse
in blueness now, a weary change of mood.
Oh heaven help the one who's tempted twice,
by lust, conceit; and blinking, pays the price.

William

18

A time passing, a passing of structure.
Structured celibate foundations,
espousing systemic reverence-

You see,
there's this girl.

And she's not. Really.
Really, but I am. Equally, a
squalling day,

wishing
I was at that party.

It comes in; in it comes,
in even interfering, coming, interfering even in
the post-collegiate swag of the smell

of wet dog, or of
dry dog if it's a big one.

Even in clockwork shining,
I'll imaginize her into a red-gray day,
with me on a warm-wet day.

There's a lot of glancing,
and more espousal.

Sabastian

15

Texas

After a beautiful spring
the sun stayed longer in the sky
to admire her Texas,
but soon realized
that she hurt dear Texas
a wept for a while,
she cooled the ground
and hid her face,
to return again.

Katherine

17

The After-Thought

"May our love never wilt he said"
handing her a cream colored rose that smelled of
musty gym shorts
with an overly charismatic wink

"Matt…"
"Matthew"
He clumsily corrected himself
Is the name

A laugh just a little too loud escaped from her lips
Before snapping her trident gum
She looked at him straight in the eyes as she uttered
"My name is Grace"

I put the flower in vodka and left it on my window sill

He invited her to the boardwalk
She swaggered letting her hips sway with the sea breeze
His black converse made a rhythmic pitter-patter as he jogged to keep up with her
Later he won her stuffed animal that looked like all the rest

I gave it to my dog

On their third date her took her to the only place he was happy after his mom died
It was a hill on an abandoned beach
Where the sun’s golden light was last to be swallowed before it dipped behind the moon
She didn’t like the mosquitos

I go back there all the time

On her birthday he made reservations at La Sun de Blu
She ordered seafood and talked about the weather
His stench created by stress and anxiety irked her
She didn’t like the way he nervously kissed her at the end of the night

I ate the left overs in front of the TV at 2 in the morning

For their one-month anniversary he wrapped a mix tape in gold wrapping paper
Attached was his heart and a handmade card
She left him cologne by his door
And a hallmark card with stolen words and copyrighted love

I only listen to the CD when it rains

He came to her house with chocolates and a guitar
The beginnings of a love song left his lips
She sauntered to the balcony in a daze
Behind her followed a boy wearing only checkered boxers

I wish he had said something

Summer reading books were finally opened
Their I love you’s were replaced with
I will miss you
That each longingly stared at the sand while murmuring

And to the reader
You may wonder
Who am I?
And to that I say…

I am the sister
I am the best friend
I am the after-thought
That loves Matt

The one who never says anything
But whose heart was pierced with every kiss that touched her lips
Because I could have been more than just
Another phony love story

I could have been a 2 am phone call when insomnia plagued you
Or a 3 pm I didn’t make varsity
The 10:30 pm I don’t understand chemistry and I have a huge test tomorrow
Or even the 11:11 I really miss you with tears dying your cheeks a light crimson

But instead I am the girl
Who drowned your love in vodka
And watched it
Slowly wilt

Katherine

17

The After-Thought

"May our love never wilt" he said

handing her a cream colored rose that smelled of

musty gym shorts

with an overly charismatic wink

"Matt…"

"Matthew"

He clumsily corrected himself

Is the name

A laugh just a little too loud escaped from her lips

Before snapping her trident gum

She looked at him straight in the eyes as she uttered

"My name is Grace"

I put the flower in vodka and left it on my window sill

He invited her to the boardwalk

She swaggered letting her hips sway with the sea breeze

His black converse made a rhythmic pitter-patter as he jogged to keep up with her

Later he won her stuffed animal that looked like all the rest

I gave it to my dog

On their third date her took her to the only place he was happy after his mom died

It was a hill on an abandoned beach

Where the sun’s golden light was last to be swallowed before it dipped behind the moon

She didn’t like the mosquitos

I go back there all the time

On her birthday he made reservations at La Sun de Blu

She ordered seafood and talked about the weather

His stench created by stress and anxiety irked her

She didn’t like the way he nervously kissed her at the end of the night

I ate the left overs in front of the TV at 2 in the morning

For their one-month anniversary he wrapped a mix tape in gold wrapping paper

Attached was his heart and a handmade card

She left him cologne by his door

And a hallmark card with stolen words and copyrighted love

I only listen to the CD when it rains

He came to her house with chocolates and a guitar

The beginnings of a love song left his lips

She sauntered to the balcony in a daze

Behind her followed a boy wearing only checkered boxers

I wish he had said something

Summer reading books were finally opened

Their I love you’s were replaced with

I will miss you

That each longingly stared at the sand while murmuring

And to the reader

You may wonder

Who am I?

And to that I say…

I am the sister

I am the best friend

I am the after-thought

That loves Matt

The one who never says anything

But whose heart was pierced with every kiss that touched her lips

Because I could have been more than just

Another phony love story

I could have been a 2 am phone call when insomnia plagued you

Or a 3 pm I didn’t make varsity

The 10:30 pm I don’t understand chemistry and I have a huge test tomorrow

Or even the 11:11 I really miss you with tears dying your cheeks a light crimson

But instead I am the girl

Who drowned your love in vodka

And watched it

Slowly wilt

Julia

16

"How To Define A Summer’s Day"

Maybe a summer’s day is like a Klondike bar
That drips white on splintered, decalescent docks
How she ran into the shaded portions of the wood
When she would forget to wear flip-flops

Maybe a summer’s day is defined by length
The longer days and shorter nights
How she would have an excuse to stay out late
Because, she would argue, there was safety in the light

Maybe a summer’s day is captured in sunscreen
The pout across a child’s face as it’s applied
How she would lie and say she had covered herself with it
And how I would have to lightly hold her crimson shoulders as she cried

Maybe a summer’s day is described best by clichés
Like the “feeling of sand between your toes”
But she made me think that maybe a “sandwich” got its name
When she would complain about the sand on her tomatoes

Maybe a summer’s day isn’t always pleasant
Like how she would always have a shorts tan
Or how beads of sweat would roll into the crevices of her eyelids
And make her black hair stick to her back

Maybe a summer’s day comes at the end
When you prepare for your first day of school
As she would lay out her uniform on the loveseat
And stare longingly at the pool

Maybe a summer’s day is beautiful
Because it always comes again
Because the earth may turn and the seasons change
But the cycle will always remain the same

Maybe a summer’s day makes me feel
As if she still would run and play
As if those memories repeat themselves
Maybe that’s what I think of when I define a summer’s day

Maybe a summer’s day reminds me of the definites
She may definitely be gone
And I will never move on
But a summer’s day is infinite.

Vivian

16

The slow crawl of heat and melted ice cream approaches,
Reminding our new purpose.
Work retires itself,
Freedom grants equality to act,
Complacency dictates doers not to.

Time is squandered on inactivity.
Sun rays strike at all stray thoughts,
Forgetfulness weaves tangles about once-clear minds,
Remembrance fades without the hardship of practice.
Most are ill-suited to independence or rigor.

Energy erodes, despite conservation.
Vigor is leeched by a sweating sun,
Motivation is dampened by humidity.

Schedules are planned on the day of,
The neighbors sit out on lawn chairs,
The dog doesn’t fetch.
No one does, yet some still feel.

Arguments proliferate with broken air conditioners,
Emotions are quelled with cold drinks.
The couple’s romance is weakened,
The familial bonds thinned,
Heat burns people’s patience.
Irritation versus exhaustion.

Voices yell and can be heard,
But actions are scarce.
“It’s too hot to fuss,”
Says the careless.

Adam

16

Summer
It reminds me of what once was
What is might of been
What it should have been

It tells me not to worry as the next year approaches
It tells me not to fear
But it lies
I think

If it speaks truth, I will not listen
I never do

If it speaks lies, I still do not hear
For that is how I live

I think

It when I don't think that summer comes early

Summer is not the months, June July August
It is a break, a freedom, a banishment

Summer occurs when I mess up, when I am done

Summer happens only to end
And begin again

I think