Aayatul Kursi
Shahara Ahmed
Intermediate School 230, Grade: 7
My name
Is the fox that sneaks out
Just before dawn.
It smells of mint.
Minty. Like a mojito, fresh
And sweet as you swish it
In your mouth.
It can roll around on your tongue.
It is the color peach,
With soft skin cradling it in place.
It sits fresh and plump on the lined paper.
Moonlight. It is moonlight.
The aroma of daisies
Caressing your senses.
Aayatul kursi,
a throne, a sturdy throne
that won't dissolve in midair.
I am a cinnamon bun.
The icing drips off the sides.
It's like the way I mix the sugar
In my lemonade.
I want to make it a puzzle.
Tear it into a thousand pieces and
Plop it in a box.
When fish bite your toes in the teal sea.
It is eighteen, free and girly.
Live it. Love it. Breathe it.
Let it sit upon your head.
Let it fall down on a cold summer's day.
Roaming around on dark nights.
Illuminating the street lights.
Singing on the wire fence by the park.
Bleeding words as it runs down the track.
Say I love you,
And it will consume the words
Like a sponge,
Hard when out of the warm plastic package.
Punch it. Try.
Step on it. Try.
Breathe on it. Try.
And yet it sits firm on the bench,
Keeping its gaze on that mockingbird.
It stands behind you and taps you on your left shoulder,
When it is sitting beside the right.
It is eating the bark of the tree,
Those rebellious little letters.
They swim along an ice skating rink,
Fluidly moving across the stage.
Sparkling in just one ray of sun
And smiling in one frame of a picture.
I repeat, and I repeat, and I repeat, over and over again
Until you clasp your hand around every possible open part of your body
When I say aloud that
The malleability of Shahara is terrifying.
KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR
Neftali Castillo Rosario
JHS 189, Grade: 8
I'm sorry for not being able to be your knight in
shining armor,
And I apologize for not being able to meet those
expectations,
I guess I went swimming in a pool of hesitation,
and drowned in my indecision.
I often find myself regretful for wanting to live a
life of love,
An idea born from the optimism of my mind's eye,
A sentiment that wants so much to breathe, that
not even my heart could grasp it.
So pardon me for sending you my heart's bequest
without a return address,
For now you bear the burden of keeping it until I
Search for it again…
Untitled
Mihalis Alisandratos
P.S 122 Mamie Fay School , Grade: 7
A Return of Life
An old, lifeless wall I see before me,
The color, dirty beige it wears.
The paint, marred, peeled, and dreadfully cracked
Reveals the foundation that resided before it.
And there in the center,
Sit vibrant flowers in a neglected white box,
On a dirty old windowsill,
Where it seems darkness consumes all.
Yet the flowers,
With their exuberant red colors
And their green stems in a tangled bunch
Sit daintily without a care.
For they live within,
Breathing, absorbing all that is around,
Living things in a lifeless place,
A sign of life, a sign of hope.
As the flowers bloom,
Life is reborn and restored
And as hope comes through,
The darkness is filled with light once more.
And as I tranquilly stand,
With the flowers in my eye,
It seems as if,
The flowers smile before me.