The Jefferson Journal of Literature & Art

2018-2019

Tobesta Abebe

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Table of Contents

Section 1 – Poetry – Page 3

Section 2 – Fiction – Page 85

Section 3 – Children’s Stories – Page 91

Section 4 – Art – Page 93

Section 5 – Contributors – Page 112

Section 1: Poetry2

Carsten Polestak

Identity by Zainabe GuzmanI come from pupusas and m’smenFrom exotic languages singing throughout the houseTo celebrating millions of holidays each year

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I come from my grandpa sayingMarhabaan!Marhabaan!Marhabaan!Everytime he comes home from workTo my dad saying, “Adios familia” everytime he leaves

I come from wearing hijabs and kaftansTo wearing shawls and dresses on occasionsI come from participating in Ramadan every year To celebrating my cousin’s quinces

I come from listening to Las Mananitas with my dadFrom our favorite soccer team losing a match and us getting madI am proud to say that I am a Moroccan Latina.

Identity Poem by Jordan Hickman

To be the youngest person in a family is like seeing the sequel of a movie series,You never know what happens,But when that someone who controls the movie takes all control without the editors,It always seems to take the right turn,But it all depends on how.

That’s kinda how my life works,My 3 years older brother has always been with me,

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It was never like that for him though.Being the youngest child always seems to be overwhelming,I’m always expected to be some type of way,

Expected to be like a model citizen,Expected to become the best I ever could,I’ve put out a good example for that,I’m always trying to get noticedtrying to be ‘cool’ and not ‘act-a-fool’,Like how my aunt says it,

Being the youngest child seems that you have to be with someone at all times,So I’m never ‘in danger’,But I’ve never felt in danger,Probably why Freddy hasn’t visited me in my dreams recently,Haven’t seen his long, sharp claws that are the knives of my viewings,Didn’t seen Annabelle ever I stopped believing in haunted dolls,I couldn’t hear back from Mike Myers after I pulled back my knife on him for self-defense,So I’ve been getting good sleep you could say,I stopped running away from what would scare me,And started to believe that I could make it after my failures,

For those who don’t know what it is like,That’s only a taste of what being the youngest is,It was just the freebies that you get from Sweet Frog when they really want you to buy from their new flavor,But you really just wanted to steal,It seems like the oldest want to prey on you,For their amusement,It doesn’t seem really fair,

It’s not fair being the one who needs the counter’s support to grab that cereal box,It’s not fair that I had to sleep on the bottom bunk,It’s not fair to have a smaller room,It’s not fair to split that same piece of the gumball from the machine,It’s not fair that I can’t get into that teens’ night club,But being the youngest feels like you grow up faster than the older ones,

Because they have already set a demonstration,The world just wants you to look at your problems and see if you try to fix the pieces of the puzzle,

Studies have proven that the second child is better looking,Smarter,And more social,I guess that’s why I’m better at math,Better at fitting in,Getting attention,Being more tolerant of people,At being happy,But let this not fool you,

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I used to get left behind,I was an easy target,The younger me was to be more sensitive,I cried a lot as a child,

That’s how that crafted the young,CaringRespectful,Kind,Gentleman that I am today,So always watch out,

Little ones are always watching you,Think twice before you do something,Because it will affect someone’s lifeNegatively or positively,

Yes I have seen people mess up their lives,I’ve seen people do harm amongst themselves,I have seen my own uncle dressed up,In a coffin,Having his presence be shown for the last time,

But most important to me is,Fast-paced,I remember my young souvenirs to a point where I want to live it again,You may have seen it pass by,But he or she doesn’t remember it like yesterday,Yesterday,

Yesterday could be considered as the day I became a teen,When I learned to ride a bike,Or my double digits birthday,That day when I started school,The day that I was born

I had to learn this because there isn’t always a Lt. Turner there to tell you “it’s ok son”,And won’t die for you to help get you back up on your feet,

That is why being the youngest child is from a youngest child seems like a handful,But when all you ever need is probably just some caring,And some patience,

Because we are wiser than you think,Younger people will replace you one day,And that day can be as soon as tomorrow,By midnight,Maybe at sunset,Possibly in an hour,They could replace you as fast as an hour,

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Because we are the future,And the future starts today.

Slam Poetry by Maximino RodriguezLeft handed:I am in the small group of lefties on this planet,Though we should never be taken for granted.We can do the same things as everyone can,Though answering questions about it gets very bland.What's so surprising, is what I Always say,they think the difference is between night and day.Right handed only objects are very counterproductive,Just finding a left-handed object takes way too longClose to a flower trying to grow in the night.Or like trying to find the sun in twilight.Items like those help a portion of the people,But giving a cold shoulder to me and many others.We should make everything for everybody,Not just for the majority of people.

Slam Poetry by Jose Galvan

It felt like all the kids in my school were talking about what they wanted to be when they grew up and all of them said they wanted to be professional soccer players when it was finally my turn I said I wanted to be a Marine biologist and they started laughing, one of the kids sitting in the table next to me said “what are the fishes gonna do? dance” and I said “I don’t know, I just want to study them, did you know that a moon fish looks like a moon if you look at it from a certain distance on earth?” one of the kids sitting in the table shouts “what do you do when you are a marine biologist” and I told him “They study marine life, for example in 2017 scientists found the worlds marine deepest fish in the whole sea and submerged into an ancient continent” they look at me confused and I continued “I just feel like the sea is an infinite world of water and there is still more knowledge humans can learn” my friend lend me a hand and said that “that’s actually pretty cool”. Out of a sudden all my friends and some of the people sitting in the table agreed that it wasn’t the best but it wasn’t the worst either. I felt better now that everyone understood how I felt that that job could be as interesting as any other job. from that day on I never felt ashamed of any of my likings.

Knee Deep by Fiona RollAll people ever want is happiness.It’s like an addictive drug.I can’t buy it.

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I can’t sell it.I can’t see it coming or goingI can't force it to stay.No one can.Sometimes it leavesIt can leave for a few seconds.Or It can leave for years.I can be fine one moment,And the next be contemplating Whether it’s worth it or not to keep going.People can make it better,Or they can make it worse.I feel the emotions creepI’m just knee deepIn something I can’t get out ofSomething that controls me.Something that breaks me.They ask me if I’m okayAnd I just say “I’m fine”But when they leave,It hurts even worseSure there’s a cure, it’s too hard to endureAnd all I wanted was for them to stayThey leave me in the darknessAt my very worst timesThey think I’m fineBut I’m trying to get up a ladderI know I can’t climb.My happiness is drainingIt’s a bathtub without a plugI try so hard to close it But I just can’t get a gripEverything feels so coldAs cold as dry iceIt feels so darkThere’s no escapesIt all just meI can’t get outNo one can save meI can’t speak outIt’s so hard to focusWhen all I think is “I can’t”I don’t want the painI just want to cryLet it out like rainI hate myself I hate everything about myself They tell me I’m perfect,But I don’t believe them.It feels wrong to believe them.They say it will be okay,But it’s notI’m stuck in something knee deepsomething that pulls me in

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I can’t ignore itIt won’t let goThe hill is too steepEven the trees weepI try to ask for helpAnd all they say is“Just be happy”It’s not that simple Because how can I be happy When I torment myselfHow can I be happyWhen I completely forget what happiness isHow can I be happyWhen I can’t even love myself

Scars by Sarah Eichorn

When I was 3 or 4, I was running ahead of my parents on a hike

but my chubby little legs tripped over themselves and I smashed, elbows first, on a sharp rock.

There was some bleeding and crying, but it wasn’t a big cut. I thought, at the time, to be “pretty”

you had to have perfect skin, and I was upset that the white lump

of scar tissue remaining demolished my being pretty.

I thought that all flowers were perfect, and to be a flower I needed to be perfect.

As I grew up, I wore long sleeves to hide the scar,

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as if the skin had burned away and all that was left was blood and bone and muscle.

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When I got older, I realized that I couldn’t control how many scars I had,

so I may as well just embrace them.

Scars are a complicated matter, and mean different things for everybody.

They are like the war paint we made out of mud when we played capture the flag.

For me, they show strengths and bravery, falling down and getting up.

Scars are the symbol of hardship, and through times of hardship, you have to keep going,

no matter what happens.

Showing your scars acknowledges that you made a mistake, or someone else did,

or you were just unlucky.

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Every scar holds a story:

The one by your eye, by your elbow, your leg.

From running into something, or falling on a wet rock,

or tripping over your shoelaces.

Or even the time when you fell out of bedand nearly hit your head

but broke your fall with your arm instead.

Each one is important, and by hiding them with your sleeve you simply

smother their story, which is a part of yours.

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One day in 3rd gradeI was walking to school and hit with my heada very inconveniently placed telephone pole.

You can imagine the pain I was in afterwards,and the vast amounts of humility

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in the weeks that followed.

Everyone was curious about why I had two thin butterfly stitches

right next to my eye.

It was very annoying when people laughed at the timebut now I can look back and laugh

as I wear that scar proudly.

Every scar teaches you a lessonand that scar taught me

To always look where you’re walking.

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Scars are all different:

Some are on bones, tiny cracks or growths

as a reminder of when you fell out of bed and broke your arm.

Some on skin, pale white raised marks texturing smooth skin.

Some in your brain, from when maybe something went

another direction than you thought it would.

Some are invisible, even to machines, like the ones on your heart from

a breakup or fight.

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Scars are permanent, and wearing them as they are can show that they’re not like having a purple horn

sprouting from your forehead.

And some days we all wishwe were that model on TV

but we know deep down that it’s all fakeand the best we can be is ourselves.

Philly Fan by Lila Deer

We are the underdogs.Our team is our familyThe city is our home.We are bald eagles soaring through the end zone.Our city rings with the sound of liberty.

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Fighting of every cowboy, buck, capital, and brewin getting in our way.

“Philly philly”.A secret weapon.Only used for special occasions.

In the frosty weather from February Fans fixate on the footballFive to fourFinally finished Feasts, festivities, friends are formedIn honor for football.

We are a team that doesn't give up.52 years of doubt.02/04/1841-33Victorious over past 5 time champions.

The way we playEvery day Hearing our fans shout yayFor the way we play

Our fans have passion.Our teams have determination.Our coaches have motivation.

We are the face of our country. Representing America.

Slam Poetry by Kiera Fuchs

For people that don’t know how to be funnyor have funyou have to have fun its apart of every kid’s life. Without it you live in a world with fear and sadness.don’t get your self-surrounded like you are a mouse in a corner about to be eaten by haters.I don’t think any kid should be the sound of raindrops going woosh woosh.Don’t ever say this day will never come because it will.fear will never get a hold of you.You just got to get out there and express yourself and have fun , don’t care what others say BE YOUR SELF!  Get out there and meet others and ALWAYS BE YOU! People may think your boring but you’re not your special, you will always be you. Do you know what F stands for in FUN? It means friends, and U stands for you, and N stand for never give up. Stand up for you, show them who you truly are. And if they can’t see it in you then they don’t understand FUN. Be a happy clappy person who’s happy all the time.

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Slam Poetry by Jason Doll

My race is like a child. Always needing a shield to guard it. Though my race is also like a shield guarding me. It holds its head high but cowers in the shadows. It doesn’t want to be judged so it hides but it wants to show itself, To make itself known, so it unleashes himself.Holding his head high to show superiority but cowering to not be challenged.

Some people only think about what they see.They don’t realize how sight loves being a trickster. They don’t realize the loyal truth of your own ears. They don’t realize when your eyes only see what’s on the surface when your ears see what’s in your blood. They don’t realize that you have to listen to their words and then you can finally see for sight can’t rule you.

So many misconceptions, so many names. Left out as if we’re nothing. Treated like liars. Making you an outcast even to friends because they want to fit in too.

Though we are people I am four people carved into a single vessel for my soul. Yet people still try to put a hole in my soul. Yet people still think down on me, thinking that I am lower than them. I am so much higher in the world and so are the others like me. I am carved from the stones of Asia and Europe. Germany and Ireland, Italy and Korea. There are others. One carved from the wood of Rhode Island and the Forests of Germany. Another woven by the thread of Greece and the feathers of Mexico.

All made from different stones, from different woods, from different threads. Yet those made with one stone see us as ugly, annoying, liars. Even though they don’t realize our own beauty. Thinking they should knock sense into us with fists or words.But the beauty of our rock, of our tree of our cloth is what should knock sense into them.

Slam Poetry by Benjamin Lahlou

I am a person with low self of steam, it’s like your head is screaming at you. people just think that everyone and everything is alright in this world, some people think that

things are perfect in the world, but I see it differently, I know what people go through when they put themselves down and sometimes it could ruin a life, when we already

have a bad day and someone comes up to you and says “you’re a loser”, you will start to believe it and say it over and over again in your head and you can’t stop, “you’re a

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loser”, “you’re a loser”, “you’re a loser”. Nobody deserves to go through that all because of a couple words, it feels like someone punching you like it’s their punching bag. My brother zack went through this, every time someone said something good, he

would say something bad, “you're a good student”, “no I am not.” It’s like your head is a steaming ball of red lava sometimes. Bullies say things that no one should ever say to

someone and the consequences a impactful if they have low self of steam.

Bug Hater by Fabrizzio Medina Ramirez

Being a bug hater is like seeing the smallest and ugliest creature on earth. Spiders and bugs are like seeing a small atom on the ground. My parents knew that I was scared of bugs because I always get nightmares of those living creatures during the night when I was little. This is a big part of me because it is who I am and that will never get over my head because that’s is what really happened to me personally. Being a bug hater is normal for me because in my opinion I really don’t like bugs in General and it’s still not over my head yet. One of the biggest impacts that caused me to be afraid of bugs is that when I was a little child, we had to bring in pets during kindergarten and this totally changed my life forever. Sometimes being a bug hater is not a good thing for me because they scream out their little friends over to invade the territory. One of my friends back then brought in a spider in a cage. My first reaction was that I didn’t like the look of it and looked pretty creepy. Spiders are like little mice that chase down our little house. Our teacher told us that bring our pets to the circle and I had a hamster. The person who had the spider was sitting next to me and he had the spider in his hand. Bugs are so scary looking I could pass out on the floor. I had my hamster in my hand. We went around the circle to showcase our pets and where they came from and the person who was sitting next to me had the spider in his hand to show to everyone else. Most of them didn’t want to pet it because it looked too creepy and hairy for them to touch it. When it came around to me I really didn’t want to touch it. This trait is very related to me is because throughout my whole life I didn’t want to get near any type of creature related to bugs or spiders because I have a big phobia.

Six Ways to Look at a Dog by Alexandra Ramos

I The dog is like the wolf, descended from this majestic canine. The canine and feline,

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forever enemies.

II Swift and true, the dog chases, and comes back, always.

III The feel of the dog’s soft, warm fur, gives them warmth, comfort, and protection.

IV Deep down in the mythological realm of Hades, a three-headed dog, Cerberus.

V Throwing a tennis ball, dog sprinting, accelerating, leaps, and returns with the tennis ball in his jaws.

VI The pigeon sees the dog running toward him, mouth wide open, fangs showing, claws out. Danger! He calls, and soars away.

Slam Poem by Ryan Cohen

My name is Ryan, but people know me as Conor’s brother.I play baseball, but people know me as Conor’s brother.I do well in school, but people know me as Conor’s brother.I am Conor’s brother, But I’m also Ryan.

We started it.We were the wrong onesThey are the better daughters or sonsIt was our fault.Or so they say.

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I sayTheir ideas of us can’t shape can’t shape who we are.We are a flower, waiting to bloom.We can show them what’s inside of us.Let our personality explode with a boom!

I sayWe can decide who we areWe aren’t annoying, but we’re smart.They may be older, but we can be bigger.If we choose who we can beThen we can go very far.

We are not defined as “His younger brother”Or “Her little sister”But we are empathetic We are kind.

Abe Lincoln was a younger brother And he caused the whole countryTo come out of its shadow.And start a new beginning.

We can come out from their shadow.So, for once we can see ourselvesand who we are.

Untitled by Omar PolancoO earth

the pride and joy

but things have changed

the joy has gone

Our world estranged

no longer safe

with smoke and smog

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There is no failsafe

nothing to keep river from bog

so even with the dying light

even when we have great fright

we can save our world with slight

to keep us from eternal night

for no matter what we do

even when we can start anew

no longer in a dark hew

it is not one person who can help

Not one person to find a light

with yelp for one last fight

we can finally Rest In Peace

for the answer has been dropped at the door

the answer is you

Untitled by Brandon Tamir

BOUNCE, BOUNCE BOUNCE the basketball went. Since first grade I have enjoyed playing basketball. It all started when a handful of 5th graders were playing a big game of basketball, as a first grader the fifth graders looked like giants compared to me. For a few weeks that was all I saw, until one day one fifth grader came to me and asked if I wanted to play and since I saw no reason to lie I told him I didn’t know how to play. He told me “Here I will show

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you how to play!” And every day till the end of the year in extended day he spent 1 hour teaching me how to play. It started with the basics of how to play like passing, shooting, and defense. It was as if I was a natural! I could pass normally, I could shoot the ball and make it most of the time, and I could play somewhat defense. Then on one of the final days of 1st grade he brought me with his friends to play a game. I played on my ‘coaches’ team because he knew me best and I was comfortable with him. I thought I did amazing that day I scored some points and stole a ball. In my little head I thought the ball hated the opposing team so he stayed with us. Thinking back on it, I am now realizing that they went easy on me because I was little. After the game one of the fifth graders taught me a style of shooting the ball, it was called a fade-away. I personally thought it was too fancy for me to do but I tried it and as I imagined I didn’t do that good. But I tried harder every day during that time and I personally improved a lot. Then in a few days we played a new game of basketball. The extended day staff said we had to go back inside because it was about to rain so we had to be quick. As time was running out I had the ball so I dribbled the ball up the court. I felt like I couldn’t do a fader (the shorter way of saying fade-away) because I thought I would miss so I had to do that later. So, I passed the ball to my ‘coach’ and he shot and missed so ran to the ball and made a layup. On the last day of school our extended day staff organized a full game of basketball. I was happy about this new news so I practiced a lot on defense because that is my weakness. It was only 1 day until the actual game of basketball so I played a small game of basketball with the fifth graders I scored a few points and I improved a lot since I practiced. It was the next day of school and after all the parties we had during school I felt full and about to throw up from all the sweets we had from the treats. So once the match started and the fifth graders chose who they wanted on their team we started. Our point guard brought the ball up and he passed it to me! I was so excited to have the ball so I didn’t want to waste my chance. I drove to the paint and scored a layup. We played for another 30 minutes and time was almost up. It was 36 to 34 we were losing the timer said we had 30 seconds left so I brought the ball up this time and stalled so they couldn’t get the ball and score. The final seconds felt like an hour because every second lasted forever. I went to the 3-point line and on the final second I shot and the ball spinned around the rim and we all stopped and stared at the ball spinning it was as if everything in the world stopped and what seemed like forever the ball finally dropped in. All the people in our team started cheering for me and the only thing that I could think about was “I’m really happy I practiced before the game.”

A World War Two Poem by Gavin Stallings

You can never go homeFor the Jerries* came

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Coming house to houseStealing all we madeYou can never go homeThough I’m sad to sadThey came marching into cities Spreading like a flameYou can never go home I learned with mad intrigue That they call it “The Blitzkrieg”You can never go home Always wishing that you fledDread of screaming aero planes Searching for a headWith eyes of eagles and hearts of stoneTaking away all we own Countries fall away like dominoesMany threats have been imposedYou can never go home So, hold home within your heart

*World War 2 slang for a German soldier

Hijabi by Nadyah Ahmed

Being in this world has taught me that people couldn’t care less about who I am or how hard I’ve tried

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but more of what is on the outsideTo them, I am just another hijabiI am a monster that you hide your kids fromAll of a sudden, I’m not me and I become...Just another hijabi walking out to get youJust another hijabi bearing their teeth and hissing at youJust another hijabi coming from Arab countries to whip you with the words my religionBecause I can’t just be trying to say hello

The only thing that cuts through the vision of my hijab is my black skin There to hit you with a blast of SomaliaFor I am not the Arab that you thought of me to be

Wherever I walk,Choruses of “allahuakbars” and ISIS remarksLike a parade for my tormentEven when I’m going to school it’s“I just meant it as a joke” and“Was that thing I heard about Al-Qaeda true”

“School must be so hard” says my Saturday school teacher Pardon me, is my voice to loud for you?I am not here to be pitied by people who can’t understand my circumstancesI want people to know where I stand I am not here, fighting for my rights, just to be bannedI am not another ArabI am not here to hurt othersI am not just another hijabi

I am just another person,Finding their way through life Highs and lows with lots of mistakes, just like any other personI just happen to do that with a hijab on my head

Untitled by Bianca Hall

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Black is depressed

Black is the unknown

Whatever you find in black is unseen

Black is what they called the mistreated

Black hole is what they call disappearance

Black is a funeral

Black is misunderstood

Black holds the future of darkness

That some cannot handle

White is bright

White shows us all the color

White is happy

White is the cast that helps you heel

White is the paper of imagination

White is never dull

White is the color of a wedding dress

White is the color everyone sees

And never forgets

Untitled by Ethan MedrickI am enthusiast of myths

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Don’t try to judge me for my choicesBecause you don’t know meYou can’t imagine how I feel about itSo, don’t try to define me like a hero in the mythsI don’t need to be a legendI’d rather read them, dream of meeting themBut I would drown in their gloryBut not be themBecause most people don’t understandThese heroes are heroes, because of sacrificeLike their existence is a curseI always thought of myself as one of themLeaving my blade hanging on for dear life to my sideAnd soaringTo be honest I’m nothing like themI make too many mistakesThese heroes can deal with anythingI wouldn’t even be able to beat a hamster in a fightIt feels silly now I think of itBut I was naive back thenI thought the world couldn’t take me onBoy was I wrongNow myths are more of an escapeI can just relax with one even if they’re predictableI can stay and read it over and overBecause they make me feel awesomeLike I was the one who toppled the beastThese myths always helped me through rough timesSo is my love of them so ridiculousMy interest in learning them all so weirdThey’re like my version of a bestsellerSomething I readSo much that I barely eat sometimesI wish I could be a part of oneBut really it probably just can’t be doneI know that I won’t be a hero like the mythsBut now I see the other kinds of heroThe real onesThe ones that fight against oppression in modern dayOnes that we should followSo, we get a better worldI’m not saying that mythical heroes are badAll I’m saying is that don’t idolize mythsInstead idolize the people who are working to make a differenceThe people who work to make the world a better placeInstead of idolizing mythsDo the world a favorReach out and deal with real problemsNot just read about themAnd maybeA myth might become realitySo, let people be lovers of, mythologyThose myths can be inspirationAs well as a window to what ancient people were like

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To bring us entertainment and moral lessonsDon’t assume every fan of mythos and lore is just an awkward dweebWe’re just people looking for a bit of insightWe just want to help the world as wellAll we need is guidanceAnd something to fight forLead the way and we will followTo create a utopia that we can actually maintain just through toleranceSo, don’t laugh us off, help usLike I said, we just need a causeAnd we can be as strong as HerculesAnd crafty as OdysseusAll we need is a helping hand

Brother by Theo Mota-Clem

Having a brother is like another life in a video game.

You always have another chance when you go wrong.

I love being a brother, and having two brothers. My brothers mean so much to me.

My brothers are the shoes on my feet. I don’t how I’d make it through some of the things that I have made it through.

Brothers are just basically someone to lean on in troubled times, now yeah, every now and then, you have a fight, but that’s going to happen. In times of sadness you have to be there for them, and then they will be there for you when you need.

My brothers and I try to have relationships as exchanges of kindness. Here are some examples of things that brothers are good for, they can help you will school, such as homework or anything else, they can help you with family and friend’s problems, they can help you when you are mad, with times when you are hurt physically or mentally.

When you want to learn something, when you want to laugh or do pretty much anything fun, they are there to do it with you. My brothers have helped me with infinite things it’s hard to keep track of. In times brothers can be annoying as a fly flying around your head, and make life harder, but they definitely make my life better and easier in the long run.

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There are times where I am so mad, but glad that we always work it out. Brothers are an advantage to most things important, and as kids like me you might not actually know how much your brothers are helping you, but when we get older we all realize how amazing having a truly loving brother is.

My brothers make me laugh, smile, and have fun every day, though many days we have arguments, it always turns out ok. In my opinion brothers are an advantage in so many ways.

When I am bored, my brothers keep me from being bored, and always give me something to do, and that is a good thing as a kid. There are so many things eliminated from your equation of chores and other work because your brother/s will make so it divides into however many brothers you have. So, what I’m trying to say is, brothers are very helpful and that they really help me with everything.

Brothers are great. Brothers are great. Brothers are great!

Six Ways to Look at a Fox by Annabella Handler

I

In the forest

a fox sneaked through

II

Sitting on the forest floor

was the fox its tail curled around itself

III

The eyes of the fox as piercing as a

shard of glass

IV

While the wind blew

the fox ran with it

V

The fox sniffed the air24

and smelled a mouse.

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The foxes glossy fur

shined in the sunset

giving it a glow but the eyes

still staring

straight at you

Untitled by Zachary Dabrowski

You may think that it doesn’t matter the hand you use to write  It’s like left Twix Vs. right Twix

It might not but it sure is easier to live as a right-handed personYou don’t have to write with your left hand and then cut with your left

Because the only scissors there are for right hand people that are in the shape of a beetle

You don’t have to spend 40 minutes to find a right-handed glove for baseballWhen you sit at a desk you don’t have let your writing hand hang there in the air

If go to get a cup of coffee and it has an image it isn’t ruined when you go to drink You don’t have to learn the hurt of a baseball sized meteor hit you every time to go to

hit the ball When you go down to write with a pen you don’t have to get everything smudged

Because your hand went over everything you wrote only leaving hieroglyphs of an alien language

And then look at your hand and you have ink all over it You may think it doesn’t matter but in the end, it’s the little things that matter

Slam Poem by Jack Horne

I think I’m pretty funny. My good jokes are about as common as the Warriors being in the NBA finals. The earth echoes my voice, so the world can hear it. It makes me feel good about myself whenever I can make

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somebody laugh. Every once in a while, it can get me into trouble. If I think of something funny, I have an urge to tell somebody. Half the time I can’t contain myself. The laughter bubbles up inside of me, like a volcano ready to blast. My jokes have a wide variety, with a large contrast. I am not conscious to the outside world when I am brainstorming a joke. It’s almost as if I’m in a different world. When I’m not the one telling the jokes, I tend to laugh. A lot. I’ve almost gotten sent to the AP’s office just for laughing. I’ve noticed in my life, that my laugh can be infectious. There have been a few times where I’ve gotten my whole class to laugh because of my laugh. Humor is a gift that not everybody got. But I believe that humor makes the world a better place. I believe laughter is the best medicine. I believe that making someone laughing can make their day. I believe humor is as powerful as any other human trait. I have had sad days, bad days and days were I just wanted to lie in bed all day. But at least a laugh would give me an escape. It may only be for 5 seconds, 5 minutes, maybe the rest of the day. But, that may only be the time you need.

6 Ways to Look at Roses by Kennedy McClary

I

Everyone loves roses

they are beautiful

they smell good

II

Roses look good in the summertime

you can plant them yourself

you can give them to people

III

Roses smell good

they look amazing

they look perfect for your garden

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IV

Roses can be put in a vase

they need to be watered

they are red

V

Roses are used in poetry

they  are Valentines’ gifts

they make people feel happy

VI

Roses are sometimes in the woods

they get pulled

they die in the winterUntitled by Diana Rojas Hernandez

Being lonely is like the tide, comes and goes in waves Loneliness and I walk and wait for the sun to come downSometimes sadness lays and stays with me at night Consumed in my own special shade of gray Sometimes I don’t feel anything at allBut I have to get through to the dream that’s in my viewEvery day the sun comes up and the world still spinsI command my destiny, nothing is set in stone yetSo, please world stop turning and spinning for one second so I, and others like me can catch up

Dreams can be absurd, and promises aren’t always heardI know this wayward world is going to drag me down again Please tell me that although I think you don’t care you do, you careI need you to say you’ll stay, because although being alone is what I do bestMy mind will not be able to handle everything if I can’t see youyour kindness, darkness, and sorrow

I am like the moon, I go from being seen to wanting to hideAnd I may be alone, but need to keep moving forward

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I work for a future that might be better than this presentI like to think of myself as strong but even the best machines break down I can only hope when I feel it is time to throw in the towel I don’t give up I hang onA little longer, a little bit longer, just a little longer, Hang on long enough to find joy in this spinning rock we call earth

People think I have the courage to pull through, to surviveNo, to thriveAnd I will do my best because I need to be strong I will dive right into the deep end and hope I come up with a winning smileInstead of just staying down and coming up at all, Sometimes it feels easier to just swim down To give up and call it quits because life is everything but easy you must hold on to hope as tight as you canBecause sometimes hope starts pulling back

Untitled by Alexander Harris

For my whole life’sI have been a brotherTo my brother like no otherMy wonderfully willful William. As soon as I can remember I have been there for him,And he has been there for me.We were there for each other.

And even though we sometimes feud,And even though we disagree,And even though we are different,We could never separate

Since he was 16 months older than me,He would be in a different grade.Which meant that some yearsWe would be apart.

Alone.

We are like ships passing in the nightWe may be heading in two different directionsBut there is a moment we sail togetherAnd sometimes, that’s all you need.

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With seas tough and skies rough,It can be difficult, for sureBut it’s nice to know, that out thereHe’s sailing through the same water.

We have our own things too,We’re not the same shipWe’re not Co-CaptainsOn one grand vessel

But if all isn’t wellAnd if all isn’t rightWe can still sail Through day and night.

Together.

Forever.

Not a Poet by Tyler Chamberlain

I am not a poet.I have never been able to create a vivid yet lucid story, bold enough to remember.I have never been able to project my thoughts onto a canvas the way a film reel might onto a silver screen.I am not a poet.I cannot make a phrase full of feeling, fill your heart with emotion. I cannot instill within you a feeling of purposeful pride, that would perforate your soul.I am not a poet.I may try for ten, twenty, one hundred, even one thousand years, but my words will never heal you. I may try to encapsulate love with one million words, but my story will always fall short.I am not a poet.But that’s okay isn’t it? At least I can say I experienced two thirds of that old Latin proverb.But that’s okay isn’t it? I came, I saw, and though I may not have conquered, at least I can say I learned.

Sincerely, Not a Poet

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4 foot 8 to 5 foot 3A free verse poem by Aliyah Nuri

I honestly don't know where to begin I think it's safe to say middle school went by fastI remember being a scared little 4 foot 8 6th grader Coming in through those green doors that were twice the size of me Being late to most classes because I had no idea What to do and where to goBut as those first days went by I started to meet new people And being on time to all of my classesAnd I thought to myself thatMiddle school was going to be easier than i thoughtLittle did my old 4 foot 8 self knowI was horribly wrong

I was slapped in the face with tests and projectsHaving 9 different teachers that I would mix up even know they look nothing alike

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Carrying around the big 3 inch bindersThat weighed more than my 4 foot 8 selfHaving backpacks twice the size of the tiny lockers we hadShoving everything in one place Having too many people trying to get places in the tiny cramped halls Pushing my way to a class that was right next to my lastI honestly didn't think my 4 foot 8 self could survive

But then as I got used to where I was And as I got older and taller More calm about the mountains of school work And met new friendsI thought to myself that It could only get easier, right?And of course, once again I was wrongBut I had gotten used to being a yellow jacketGotten used to how the school workedAnd had my friends by my sideAnd being blessed by having a big locker in the 7th gradeEven know a lot happened I was able to get through it  

But who knew 3 yearsCould all feel like yesterday100’s and 100’s of memories ofSinging and dancing in TA in 7th Model UN and going to William and Mary The trip to Busch Gardens All of the great times spent with my friends

And yet I know not all friendships last But the memoriesAre somethings that I would never let goThere are friendships I have gotten because of middle schoolThat I know will last a lifetime

And now here we are Here I am On my way to high schoolNow leaving TJMS as 5 foot 3 I have grown

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In height and in knowledge Knowing to expect grader for high schoolKnowing to expect more projects and testsBut also Knowing to expect new friends And new memoriesThat I have gotten from being a yellow jacket New memories to add in my bookOf cherished ones

Middle school was an amazing experienceand the times I have had here as a TJMS yellow jacket Will stay with me foreverI could of never ask to be at a better place than here

All the great experiences And what I have learned as a middle schooler I will take with me On my next journey that is high schoolStarting out as 5 foot 3And ready to grow Talking all my memories with me All of my knowledge into high schoolTaking all my friends To my next journey That is high school And I think you should do it too.

Alcohol Content by Katie Driscoll

They ask me why I dislike my art style,But I don’t dislike my art style, I hate it.I hate it just like I hate everything I doLike I hate how I lookLike I hate how I dressLike I hate how I talk, with all my “likes”; with all o’ my “all o’ y’all”s.Because of you.

‘Cause I’m not southern.The only southern part of me is Key West: The Southernmost Island or

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Key West: Mile 0 on US 1 orKey West: 90 miles from Cuba.

But people there don’t talk how I do.They do in spirit.The people there speak margaritas and key lime pie.The people there speak a tangle of Cuban, Spanish, English, Haitian Creole, and Czech all mixed up like a cocktail, with an alcohol content that should leave you hungover, but you can handle it.The people there speak military and immigration.The people there speak iguanas, six-toed cats, and Rhode Island reds.Rhode Island reds are chickens, named for the dot-on-the-map state due North,Where I was born.

‘Xcept I’m not chicken. I’m a rooster, spreading my oil spill in seawater glimmering teal tail feathers.Y’all don’t get it. Y’all don’t understand where I’ve been.My dad’s in the Coast Guard.I’m dandelion fuzz on the southern wind,And when I land, I take root, and I spread my petals and I persist.Even when I don’t want to.I’ve had death knock on my door, and I have let him in.He’s the weed-killer,But I’m a hybrid. I survive. Not only that,I thrive.

I’m 50% fully fledged Military family, 50% mixed up mess,Muddling in the murky mess of“Where are you from?”I’m from Newport, Rhode Island.Colorado Springs.Stuttgart, Germany.Arlington, Virginia.But on my list twice is Key West, like Germany’s bookends.Majority rules, so that’s what I say, but then I get a,“That doesn’t count, you weren’t born there.”I lived in Newport for seven months, and can’t remember a thing.

You gawk and you stare, thinking that I’m too high and mighty to dare to care,But I do.The salt on the sea’s wind is the salt from my tears,I draw on blank paper and write on lined,My blood-stained ink writing lines in my limbs.I write apology notes to the trees whose oxygen I’ve wasted,Letters to lost lovers who were never truly mine,Hoping someday someone will read them.

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I want to read the lines to a crowd,But I bite my tongue, choke on my words, and swallow the things I never get to say.I’ve gotten princess flower Purple Hearts from fighting wars in my mind,The only enemy is you, and I’m tired of the growing wounds.So after the rush of making me hate myself fades away,Let the guilt set in like a hangover you got from Duval Street,

‘Cause Key West is where I got my feathers.My conch shell.My key lime pie sweetness.My stories.My taste for warm saltwater.And hit me one more time or hit me with an insult.I know you lash out because you don’t get me.And that’s just because this cocktail’s alcohol contentIs too high and you can’t stomach me.

Afraid of the Dark by Samuel Booth

Being afraid of the dark Is like a glass of water, some see it as half full and some see it half empty. My cousin is afraid of everything but the dark, she says the dark is her best friend because she can't see what terrifies her, so it's not terrifying. She's not scared of spiders, She doesn't have Scelerophibia, Sciophobia, SpectrophobiaIn the darkShe could die be shot in the dark,and be fine because she never saw it coming.The dark is her Clark Kent,To her Legion Of Fears. My other cousin is afraid of nothing but the dark. He's fine with dying if she knows it's coming,but in the dark you couldn't, So he hates the dark.

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The dark creeps up on him swallows him.As long as he can see it he's not afraid of it, but when he can't, he's terrified.The dark is the bellow to your fire of fear, or it could be the water to it. It's all the perspective of the dark sometimes it hides your fears, sometimes it hides everything so you're scared and sometimes you don't care.

Theme: Life is all about perspective.

Being afraid of the dark Is like a glass of water, some see it as half full and some see it half empty. My cousin is afraid of everything but the dark, she says the dark is her best friend because she can't see what terrifies her, so it's not terrifying. She's not scared of spiders, She doesn't have Scelerophibia, Sciophobia, SpectrophobiaIn the darkShe could die be shot in the dark,and be fine because she never saw it coming.The dark is her Clark Kent,To her Legion Of Fears. My other cousin is afraid of nothing but the dark. He's fine with dying if she knows it's coming,but in the dark you couldn't, So he hates the dark.The dark creeps up on him swallows him.As long as he can see it he's not afraid of it, but when he can't, he's terrified.The dark is the bellow to your fire of fear, or it could be the water to it. It's all the perspective of the dark sometimes it hides your fears, sometimes it hides everything so you're scared and sometimes you don't care.

January 2nd, 2007 by Abaad González

The day that I was brought into this life Poor mom underwent the surgical knife

People surrounding me around the bed,Laughing out of joy and tears that were shed.

Meanwhile as my parents felt the pain,They placed Benjamin as my given name

She described that it went by as a click,In reality, it was not as quick

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Despite my mother’s physical trauma,I brought excitement with a sonata.

Because a new life came with happiness No one was concerned with their busyness.

Now, mother forgot the surgical knifebecause out of this was brought a new life.

Untitled by Kjartan QuickA black holeis born to swalloweverything it comes uponnothing stands in a battlebecause the black hole has you on your kneesand swallows even the greatest things.It lies in the corner of the galaxy and will never ever show itself even to the most worthy opponents you will not surviveas you have already lost.

My Family by Dane Arterburn

M y F a m I l y            

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       C o n s t a n t l y                                  L o u d                               L a u g h I n g                A r g u I n g                              F o r g I v I n g        Caring

And craziness, in a good way.

        Ru n n  I n   g I       n g

Activities, sports fun.

S L E E P I N G  A N D ZzZzZzZzZzZzZzzZzZzZ

Waking up from the splash of water as my alarm S P L A S H ! “Not the water again!”

My family, just how I like it.

The Ocean by Daniela Bonilla Gonzalez

The nice ocean breeze

Runs through my long wavy hair

And calms my mood down

Disney World Space Mountain by Benson Browning

Long line

Buttery hot popcorn

Screams from kids

Whip of roller coaster turns

Last sip from my drink

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Best ride ever

Miami Beaches by Naomi Budan

bright blue waves jumping up and down sweet and salty ribs that my mom cooked

people laughing and having fun

the hot air and the warm sand underneath my feet

salty water

the ocean is beautiful

Alliteration ABC by Eleina Carranza

August ate apples abnormally!

Busy bees buzzed broadly.

Communities communicate creatively.

Deep dreamers dive drastically!

Elephants enter elegantly.

Flounder finds flowers fantastically!

Grace gets good grades.

Hippos have healthy hearts!

Isalem imagined izzards.

Jacey jumps joyfully!

Kangaroos kicked kind kindergartens!

Lizards lick little lollipops!

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My mom makes money!

Neighbors need nothing!

Obedient octopus’s own oceans.

Puppies pounce proudly!

Queens quiz quick.

Rain runs rapidly.

Spectacular sunny seas.

Turtles to the TROUBLE!!

Umbrella’s under utensils.

Victoria’s victorious victory!

Walter wants water.

Xavier X-rayed Xylophones!

Yasmin’s yearbook yippee!

Zombies zapped zonia!

Grandma’s House by Ryan Collins

Bright sun shining

Fresh baked apple pie

Birds chirping in the backyard

Soft blanket that she knitted

Her homemade lemonade

Grandma’s house is the best

The Peaceful Guinea Pig (Inspired by Valerie Worth) by Aaron Lopez

Under the warm sunThe guinea pig lies in the grass,

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Curled up in a ball it squeaks for attention.The guinea pig lays his head just in front of his front paws,The guinea pig looks up alert for any birds but none come.

Soon he spots a lowly nut lying on the ground,The guinea pig quickly grabs it and puts both of his paws on it,

The guinea pig quickly nibbles the nut until the nut is nothing but acid in his belly.

The guinea pig blinks twice, looks at the sun,Quickly realizing he is alone with his master,

The guinea pig runs all over the grass,Chasing his own butt,

Just enjoying this lovely morning and the sun soaking on his thick fluffy fur.

( To Cookie, 2014-2018 “Squeak Squeak Squeak,Squeak.”)

Books - A Couplet - by Riley Clouse

When I open a book to see what’s inside,

All of my problems are set aside.

Owl(Inspired by William Blake)

Maral Enkbold

Owl! Owl! of the nightAlways ready for a fight

And he sits on a treeAnd suddenly he flies free

Where I’m From(Inspired by George Ella Lyon)

Timothy Geary

I'm from where it is small

But where the buildings stand tall

From the quiet suburbs

To the tall shelters

I am from the plastic dolls and Gi Joes

Long distance walking and talking

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In the hot days on the track

To the hike on the field

To the battle on the mat

I’m from the bikes and the hills

And the lazy movies and TVs.

To the everything Beatles

And the strong Metallica.

I am from where 50 is 1

From the American candy

To the Swiss chocolate

Cool cat, rad and lit

I am from the world of travel.

Frankenstein finds

Where the red fern grows

If two books met one.

toblerones and m&m

I am from we stand strong

A light of freedom.

I am from the action Matrix to Wonder Years

The dancing on the hard floor

Is where I’m from.

The Greenland’s and bagpipe

The gold and luck.

The noodles and paper cups.

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I am from the land of the pigs

a lost empire.

Where the once sole superpower stood strong

a strong empire.

That stretched from the Sunkist waters to the east

To the setting sun in the west

I am from the All Father

The light of the hammer

And the flash of lightning

I am from a warm and soft home

I am from a family to chase the setting sun.

The cookies by Julia Godbey

Sweet smelling air

I run past a stair

Almost falling

Won’t be baling

Pulled out of the oven

Their cookies I will be lovin

Warm cookies

When I lookie

Love That Mom(Inspired by Walter Dean Myers)

Suraphael Kibrom

Love that mom,Like a bear loves its cub

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I said love that momLike a bear loves that cub Love to call her in the morning

Love to call“Hey there, mom!”

Diamante by Belinda Mendez Lucas

StrawberryRed, juice

Refreshing, eating, peelingYellow, skinny

Banana

Love that Mom - (inspired by Walter Dean Myers) - By Meron Mesfin

I love that mom,

Like a bunny loves to hop

I said I love that mom

Like a bunny loves to hop

I love to call her in the morning

Love to call her

“Hey there, mom!”

The Puppy by Beckett Milam

I am a puppy and I ran outside

I hope I don’t run into pesticide

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Oh I see a dude

I sure hope he has food

Now I think I should go inside

Cheetah - (Inspired by William Blake) - James Moore

Cheetah! Cheetah! Run like light in the Savanna of the night,soul so fast it runs like a feather.Hides like a gecko, Spots on like a giraffe,Cheetah! Cheetah!You run so fast!

Love that Cat - (inspired by Walter Dean Myers) – by Adom Mulugeta

I love that cat

like a kid who loves candy

I said I love that cat

like a kid who loves candy

Love the call her in the morning

Love to call her

“Hey there, Blue!

New York City by Daniel Orellana

Huge buildings and hundreds of people

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Many restaurants making food people yelling and talking really loud

Staying here my whole life The best slice of pizza

this is loudest and busiest place on earth

The Dolphin

(inspired by William Blake)

By Ian Patton Mosquera

Dolphin! Dolphin! jumping highIn the ocean swimming byWhat animal brain or maleficentCould make you so intelligent?

Where I’m From - inspired by George Ella Lyon – by Jawan Sbeitan

I am from believing,

From having faith and worshiping the only one god

I am from tumbling through the air

From flying up high until gravity pulls me down

I am from staring at a wide screen for hours

As my eyes slowly loses sight from it

I am from running and walking

From Rula and Osama

I am from a strict diet, eating the healthy greens and avoiding the heavenly foods

From laziness and exhaustion, holding me back from being active

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I am from living each day, doing my five prayers as I’m told to

I am from wrestling and football

From fighting as hard as my body can breathe

I am from watching a football team

From having confidence and hope in them,

Winning or losing

Half of my heart will always have trust in my team

Looking in my mom’s phone

Pictures of me carried by my parents

Staring into their eyes

An amazing smile stretched across their lips

A tear drifting down my face

I am from a blessed family proud to have me born

Mountain by Anania Tadesse

High clouds Fresh trees Hard winds

Fresh apples Wonderful sight

About My Name by Barkhas-Od Tamir

BelovedAmazing RadiantKindHappyAwesome Sleepy-Observative

46

Daring

TalentedAdmirableMightyIncredibleRespected

The Beach by Pedro Trejo-Sanchez

dry sand all around the freshness of the sea air

the waves of the ocean the dry sand in my feet the salty water as I go in Is the water cold or hot?

The Mountain Lion by Kendrick Tribe

The scary and fierce mountain lion pounced strong and ruthless Where I’m From (inspired by George Ella Lyon) by Matthew Abramson

I am from football

from basketball and skittles.

I am from skiing once a year,

(Frigid, frosty, bright, and great)

I am from school,

Where I learn many subjects.

I am from coke and sour patch,

from James and Christy.

I am from jokesters and jocks

the ones that are great!

I’m from a runner,

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a businessman,

and family movies.

 I’m from Waldo and rock and roll,

from fire trucks and baseball.

From Waldo who took care of 14 siblings

             with his mother.

I’m from watching John Wayne and Mickey Mouse,

            while drinking root beer.

I have a book in my office

that’s full of memories,

and familiar faces,

to think about all the time.

I am the maker of these memories,

with the co-makers

as my family members.

Grandma’s Backyard by Emely Acosta

Green house by the mango tree

Fresh baked bread

Birds Gently chirping, waking me up

Wind through my hair

Crunchy yummy tacos freshly made

My childhood memories are born again

Ulaanbaatar by Dulguun Bat-Ochir

snowy landscape

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bitter, polluted airnoise from construction sitescrispy, cold airsnow fallingit’s winter

Where I’m From(Inspired by George Ella Lyon)

By Jarin Earle

I’m from hot summers and warm winters, From pool parties and barbecues. I’m from a large bedroom(Blue, childish, it was always full of toys.)I am from Power-Rangers and Ninja Turtles, From LEGOS and action-figures. I am from my sister.From dolls and easy-bake ovens,From Bow-Wow and Destiny’s Child.I am from simpler times.I’m from the athletes and the mathletes,from Nikki and Sye.From Atari and Nintendos.From Michael Jackson and Tupac.I’m from Thou shall not sinwith a popsicle stick crossand Ten Commandments that I memorized.I’m from Landlin and Peggy’s branch, junk food and warm tea.From the children my grandfather left,To make a better life in the U.S.The spinning tops he played with as a child.In a scrapbook, filled with photographs of the generations before me,I am from them,I am a budding leaf in the tree, rooted in the souls of my family.  

Hurricane by William Fischer

Crackle drip drop boomThunder rain stormy crash

Hurricane

Where I’m From (Inspired by George Ella Lyon) by Logan Hayes

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I’m from gaming,

From Roblox and Minecraft.                                                                                     

I’m from the dust in the basement.

(Dry, thick,

like bread left out)

I’m from baseball and wrestling

Where I had the liberty to enjoy the company of myself and others

I’m from wings and books,

From Ryan And Ruth

I’m from keep-it-ups

And the we-need-to-gos,

from Don’t! and Stop!

I’m from Dr. King once said

with a sharp tone

and many words to recite

I’m from Sugar Bear and Hot Pocket’s side,

Golf and cooking

From lives my grandmothers have saved

and the illness my stepmother surpassed

Under my bed was a box

overflowing with Legos,

a realm of old creations

for me to invent someday.

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Those are my creations—

forgotten before they’re built—

left behind to crumble and collapse.

Chicken by Hisham Kherbouch

Cooked in greaseHot it is nice and warmIt is amazingCrave it all the timeKids love itEnjoy it every time Never go a day without it

Blue Crab(inspired by Valerie Worth)

By Ian MacKay

On the quiet beach

the crab slowly wanders out

its blue shell glitters in the fading sun

legs stop

pincers down

Eyes closed

guard down

up, alert

Pinches with slow

heavy pincers

Blinks runs away    

Back to the sea 

Where I’m From (inspired by George Ella Lyon) by Jesse Mendez

I am from a soccer ball 51

From broken up ankles

in the field

I am from the chair to my

shoes playing video Games every day (boom,

shout the people in my mind)

I am from the phone I listen to everyday whose I

replaced by the new ones as I forgot I sold it away.

I am from purses and shoes as I go shopping in a

store all alone

I am from the gloves that I use every day and the

Work it ons as my family helps to feed us

I am from microphones to my shoes sing my butt

Of singing for what I enjoy singing

those eight verses I can say myself

I am from broken down heart as I got rejected by my love

and I would never stop until she said yes

I’m am from the pan to the soup pan

Making the food my family enjoys and it’s like all

I eat buffet because we care

All we can eat “huh”

but sometimes I wished we

would not waste the food

As others do

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Under my coach an old dusty camera as I see very

old and looking through as remembered it was us

family camera to day dream what I was not apart

I am from those moments-

Shocked before I smiled-

As I am part of my family tree

The Night Sky

(inspired by William Carlos Williams)By Darius Mitchell

So much depends upon A night sky

With its sparkling star

In the sky near the moon

Where I’m From (inspired by George Ella Lyon) by Blen Melese

I am from a busy place

From offices and food

I am from the trees by the house

(Fun, glistening,

it tasted like lemon)

I am from the life

The nature

Whose plants I would remember as if they were my own.

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I’m from fudge and track        From Daniel and Agere

I’m from the hard workers             and the kind ones       From good job! and keep up.

I’m from he brought my soul         With Sunday schools and twelve verses I can say.I’m from Melese and Melkie Branch,

Injera and strong coffee

From the 4 brothers my grandfather lost

   To the death,

The door my father shuts to keep us away.

Under my bed was a camera box

Telling old stories,

a long line of missed faces

To fill my dreams.

I am from those stories

Taped before I budded my

Leaf-fell from the family tree.

Outside by Bryan Perez

nice and windy trees

the nice fresh air

the dogs barking

I feel the dog licking me

I taste some white snow

I think it’s a holiday54

The Brown Raincoat (inspired by William Carlos Williams) by Aleric Piper

So much depends

upon

A brown rain coat

Drenched with rain

Beside muddy puddles that seem to never end

A Great War (A poem found in The Gettysburg Address) by Carly Rogers

Our fathers

Conceived

The proposition that

A great civil war

A great battle

A final resting place for

Our world

Unfinished

I’m Sorry by Sudhatri Sharma

you took my soul and55

twisted it into nothingand left me lonely

Winter by Dawit Solomon

Cold falls upon us

The minuscule snowflakes drift

Cold air in the sky

butterfly

(inspired by Valerie Worth)

By Salwa Abulghaith

The butterfly is so beautiful

With its bright colors on its back

Very slowly

It lands on a flower gently

Starts sucking nectar

It takes its time enjoying it

Then flies away swiftly

I Love Real Madrid

(inspired by Walter Dean Myers)

By Jimmy Aguilera-Giron

I love Real Madrid

I said I love Real Madrid 56

I love when they kick the ball

Love when they run

Love when they block

Hey there, Real Madrid

Alliteration ABC

By Andrew Anderson

Ally assisted Andrew and Andy.                          Bob brought bowls bought by Bernie. Carla carried Carla’s couch. Dane dozed during daytime. Excalibur electrocuted Eric.      Fred farted phoning Father from France. Garden gnomes galloped gladly. Happy Harry Hugged hairballs.     

 Izzy is ill. Jolly jimmy juggled King kangaroo Kung Fu kicks.                               Lazy lizard lost longbow. Mickey Mouse mashed mangos

Nearby normal Nemos.                                         Overly excited orange orangutans. Pretty patty prepares pancakes. Quincy quietly quacked. Ralph runs rapidly.                 Silly sally sat steadily. Tommy touched Tony the Tiger. Unhappy unicorn’s unicycle upside-down.

  Violent violet violated videos. Wild Willis washed washcloths. Xavier x-rayed xolo. Yellow yelling yacks. Zach zapped zebras.

Haiku

By Nominjin Batbold

On a scary night 57

The dark forest brings a fright It’ll be alright

Invisible by Will Hamon-Waldron

What can you not see

With the human eye

What might be everywhere

But you can’t see it

With the human eye

I wonder what you could see

With your view magnified

New Shoe(inspired by William Carlos Williams)By Armando Molina Navarrete

so much dependsupon

A new shoemade with the finest fabric

made with the newest of newest

with all the colors you want to match your uniform.

58

The Forest by Jonathan Berrios-Cabrera

pine trees

nothing but trees

The bark of a tree

birds chirping

scared because of the dark woods

Playground

By Nathan Chavez

The smell of food like hot dogs and burgers

The sound of the waves people talking birds chirping

A good body temperature

nice breeze

the juicy hamburger about to go inside my mouth

I think about what am I doing tomorrow

Haiku

By Katie Ferrufino Duran

A beautiful day,

That always takes my breath away,

That’s how it feels.

59

Tiger by Yoan Gebremedhin

An eye of fireIts skin burning so brightly

So strong, powerful

The Graveyard by Hajar Moussaid

Grave stone

Fresh flowers

The silence of the night

The sadness

The dirt

This is where I forget the pain of the ones I lost

Love that Sun

(inspired by Walter Dean Myers)

By Tergel Odkhuu

Love that sun,

like a diamond glowing bright

I said I love that sun

like a diamond glowing bright

Love to wake up the sun

love to call that sun

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“Hey there, my beautiful sun!”

After a Rainy Day by Pamela Quiroz

A wet environment Fresh air

Birds chirping The wet rail

the bitterness Flowers are blooming

The Shoes by Damian Rosas

I love these shoes

There blue and black

The luckiest shoes

I always win with them on

I get good grades on my tests with them on

Soccer by Jairon Sanches-Christobal

Soccer

Playing, wining

Ball, exercises, scoring yells

Passing, running, blocking

Awesome, cool

Soccer

Hawaii by Chris Santos Solano

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Waves crashing down

A fresh breeze in my face

Singing birds in the air

Hot ground and stones

Salt in my mouth

It’s a hot beach on a hot day

Where I’m From - (inspired by George Ella Lyon) – by Thomas Simms

I am from Legos

From Mojang and Imagine Dragons

I am from the wood wall basement

Smooth, shiny, dark and warm

I am from the piles of snow

The cold, white, soft, rare snow

I am from trips to Boston and Swedish fish

From Tom and Jay

I’m from the chatting with friends and cooking on the smoker

From be quiet and shhhh

I am from the big wood cross and stained-glass windows

I’m from Nana

Tacos and pizza

From the plane my uncle flew and crashed

The kindness of my family

On a computer there are files of great memories

I am proud to be the youngest member of my family tree

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Where I’m From

(inspired by George Ella Lyon)

By Patrick Sly

I’m from sunshine beaches

I’m from green forests

I’m from Candyland

I’m warm and clear skies

I’m from the cold and busy streets

I’m from the trucks I used to play with as a kid

I’m from green fields full of fans cheering

I’m from the 70s and beyond

I’m from a neighborhood of boys

I’m from the cowboy movies

I’m the Beatles concerts as a kid

I’m from the band

I’m from the Parcheesi

I’m from the pipes I worked in

I’m from the Bing Crosby times

I’m from the erector set I had

    

Love that Bird(inspired by Walter Dean Myers)By Andrew Soto

63

Love that bird

Like a butterfly likes to fly

I said love that bird

Like a butterfly loves to fly

Love when he sings in the morning

Love to see him everywhere

Hey there, cardinal

At the rupture of dawnFog rules

Over the rippled water,shore

(inspired by Valerie Worth)By Caroline Mason

Clouds coverEvery beam of light,

Waves riseAlong with the sun

And come crashing down.Hot grindy sand

Between your toes,Saltwater

Stinging your wounds,Footprints wash

Away with the tide;Fishing lines and bottles

Haunt the seashore.

Silent Night by Lilly BuiDarkness fills the skyThe bright twinkling stars in sightSilence fills the night

64

WinterBy Jack Calhoun

Cold and snowy now.Cold air flowing all around.

Tasty hot chocolate

Mime CrimeBy Luka Curcic

I am a mimeI chime like a limeI ate a dimeI traveled through timeI made some slimeI committed a crimeI am at my prime

aliveBy Layla Eisenberg

The rain is pouringThe wind is blowing at night

Somberly we wait

Love that Bird(inspired by Walter Dean Myers)By Alejandro Fernandez Mena

Love that birdLike a cheetah loves to run

I said Love that bird

Like a cheetah loves to run Love to call her“Hey there Mary”

My Home

By Kwantae Hamlin65

Colorful bed

Freshness of morning

Yelling from my brother

The softness of my bed

Sugary cereal

I’m home

Animal Tracks

By James Iveson

Wandering at willGoing every which way

On and on and on

Know that I am Coming Home

(inspired by Robert Frost)

By Anjarra-Nicole Lee

Staring down the open road

Carrying a heavy load

To it my whole life I trust

To it my whole life I owe

I knew it would be a fuss

For the crazy pair that’s us

You’re from Venus, I’m from Mars

Always knew it wasn’t luck

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You’re my world’s most brightest star

They all seem to be in awe

jealous of the way she shone

brightest wherever you are

I don’t have much time to loan

The open roads are where I roam

know that I am coming home

know that I am coming home

The Amusement Park

By Anthony Lizarazu Ampuero

Great big roller coasters

Hotdogs and pizza

Roar of racing roller coasters

Roller coaster seat going up and down

Crunchy funnel cake

Endless fun today

deer

(inspired by Valerie Worth)67

By Parker Matheson

Across the green forest

A deer runs

Looks around

Appears frightened

Stands still

His dark eye

Looks into mine

His sad eyes blink

And he runs

Right back into the forest

Water

By Jiji Matthews

A warm breeze passed by

Waves splashed under the blue sky

Never to be stopped

WaterBy Aubrey Piehota-Abbott

Rushing through the lakePushing everything backwards

Like it was nothing

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The City

By Samip Rai

The building spring through the skies

The freshness of the air

The roar of a plane and voices from people

The breeze greeting me

 The smoke spitting out from cars

 This is the best day ever

Six Flags

By Rose Romero Figueroa

Big rides

Pizza and pretzels

Kids shouting

Amazing breeze

Happiest day

All gone

Backyard

By Mia Schwoebel

Grass filled backyard

Freshness of the flowers

The song of the bird

warmth of the sun

The oranges on the tree

An adventure has begun

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WinterBy Arav Singh

Frozen lakes and ponds,

Naked trees and lifeless sun

Mark Winter’s return

Somewhere Different

By Katherine Velasco Perez

The light is fire.

The screams are wind.

The height is like Mount Everest.

The loudness you hear

is like hammers banging and banging.

So you sit.

Trying to listen to music but you can’t hear anything.

Then you see people just passing without a care in the world.

The Forest

By Rafael Valdez

the tall brown trees

the fresh air

noises from animals

the grass on my hands

the bitterness in the air

I love the forest70

Senses of the Field

By Erik Vasquez Ayala

beautiful green turf fields, ball going in net

scent of sweaty jerseys

turf after a tackle made on me

hard workers panting and people yelling my name

tension and pressure, ball at feet

another “W” was made

The Fair

By Cynthia Villaneuva

Fast rides

Freshly-made food

Fun music

Breezy wind

Sweet cotton candy

Festive nights

In NatureBy Brandon Villatoro-Flores

Grass grows in daylightWater flows in a river Nature is awesome

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SkiesBy Emma Abramson

rain slowly fallingGray skies darkening

Into the black night

Diamante

By Nadine Beni-ich

Winter

Frosty, bright

Skiing, Snow ball fights, Sledding

Icicles, Snowflakes, Vacation, Family

Swimming, Sun tanning, Sweating

Hot, Sunny

Summer

Gerbil(inspired by Walter Dean Myers)By Eden Foster

I love that gerbilLike a squirrel likes to eatI said I love that gerbil Like a squirrel likes to eatLove to hear him at night Love to hear him“Hey there, gerbil”

AntarcticaBy Ines Kapur

only whitefresh clean and cold penguins chirping

The chilly windHot-cocoa

New day to explore

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The First Day of School

By Anar Khuderchuluun

My new notebook scattered across my desk.

The making of subpar lunches.

The chalk on the blackboard.

My pencil on the paper.

The breakfast I had ate in the morning.

It’s the start of a new school year.

Breathe

(inspired by Arnold Adoff)

By Isabella Woodson

w a l k I n g out of class

towards the bathroom

heartbroken,

soft quiet tears across the floor

tear by tear,

t e a r  by t e a r,

Every.

Single.

Tear.

is like being reminded of the pain that was once there

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The Soccer Field

By Elvin Yapura-Adriazola

A beautiful field

The sweat of jerseys around me

The crowds cheering my name.

The pressure when I kick penalties.

The Victory and glory of the game.

It’s another day to be proud.

Alliteration ABC

By Hailey Diaz

Anteater ate aggressive ants.

Brown bear baked banana bread.

Catherine’s crepe cake cooked.

Dogs don’t dig down deep.

Everybody eats elephant ear.

Family found Frankie’s phone.

Google got good grapes.

Harry had hot hippos.

Inside igloos is icy icicles.

Justin just jogged jerry.

Katlyn created cute cat clothes.

Lola loves liking lollipops.

Monkeys made me mad!

Nobody know Noah’s nickname.

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Octopus outrun other octopus.

People’s parrots poke people’s pairs.

Queen questions Quincy.

Rocky respected Robert.

Stephanie’s sisters sock stunk!

Tommy talked to Taylor today!

Unhappy unicorns use umbrellas.

Victoria Vermont’s vehicle vanished.

Washington washerwoman went west.

Xavier exits x-ray exam excited.

Young Yorkshire yells yoga!

Zebra zooms zoo!

Spring’s Arrival

By Ashley Alvarez Cubas

The sweet smell of spring

Flowers blooming everywhere

Spring is coming soon

Owling

(A poem found in Owl Moon by Jane Yolen)

By Aylin Bebek

Pa and I went owling on a long winter night.

Pa made a long shadow, but mine was short and round.

I had to run after him, but I never made a sound.When you go owling, you have to be quiet

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Then he called, “Whoo-whoo-who-who-whoo!”

The sound of a great horned owl. It was as quiet as a dream.But I was not disappointed.

Sometimes there is an owl, and sometimes there isn’t.

I could feel the cold but I never said a word.When you go owling, you have to be brave.

BreakfastBy Samuel Bekele

The kitchen trying to get my attentionThe food in the kitchen

It’s calling my nameMy feet and arms leave the bed

It tastes like heavenDelicious

Your Dog by Kathleen Cruz Buruca

He is your friend,

Your partner,

Your defender,

Your dog,

You’re his life,

His love and leader,

He will be yours,

Faithfully and true.

Dog/Cat By Carter Gentry

Dogprotective, playful

barking, sniffing, runningbone, leash/mouse, litter

purring, cleaning, jumping76

fluffy, smartCat

The Turtle(inspired by William Carlos Williams)

By Franklin Gonzalez Fuentes

So much dependsupon

The slowturtle

The shinyshell

His slowprogress

That Screen they all Want(inspired by William Carlos Williams)

By Sol Gonzalez-Barnes

So much depends upon

A colorful screen

Marked with fingerprints

That so many kids want

The Fair

By Alan Izaguirre

people who enjoying the rides

fresh popcorn

kids running all over the place

fluffy animal that I won

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sweet and delicious cotton candy

everyone here is happy

The Sugary Doughnut - (inspired by William Carlos Williams) – by Mahum Kamran

So much depends

Upon

a chocolate donut

glazed with sugar

Beside a cup of

hot cocoa

A Dandelion’s Seed

By Jackson Montague

Wind pushing the air,Making the seeds fly away,

Never coming back.

The GrassBy Mohamed Mustafa

The lime green grasses Brushing across my bare feet

Running through a field

Love that Frog

(inspired by Walter Dean Myers)

By Togi Otgonbayar

Love that frog

78

Like how a kid likes games

I said Love that Frog

Like how a kid loves games

Love to see him jump

Love to call him

“It’s Kermit the frog!”

The BeachBy Zoe Pagonis

Calm sparkling water Salty breezy airWaves crashing

Warm sand between my feetSpray of ocean waterWhat an amazing day

Waterfalls

By Everett Pickler

Beautiful, calming

Crashing, a fierce splashing sound

Peaceful foamy white

The Charger

(with apologies to William Carlos Williams)

By Robbie Rezabek-Castello

So much depends79

Upon

That iPad

charger

Plugged into the

outlet

Beside your iPad

at 1%

Rose

By Eliana Lee

Dedicated to my baby cousin Rose MariaR.I.P 06/02/17

Rose Maria represents her grandmas

Rose was squirmy, sweet, small, and life to our family

Rose was meant to be a Halloween baby

Sadly, she came too soon in the summer

Though I know Rose is gone, she is still in my heart

She watches over our family like a guardian angel

She showed us hope and the true meaning of love.

A Bag of Chips

(with apologies to William Carlos Williams)

By Samuel Molla

80

so much depends

       upon

         a bag of

      chips

          glazed with salty

     flavor

New Me

By Nancy Shinekhuu

I was always changing

To prove who I am

But in the end

I realized

That this is no way to live

I shall be myself for

No one shall define me

The Fall

By Abdel Soliman

colorful leaves falling from the tree

rustling from my neighbor raking the leaves

seasonal pumpkin spice lattes

cool fall breezes

81

burning of firewood

Fear by E. Terefe——

Silence is caused,Because of fear

Fear causes violence and warFear should not consume others

To do bad thingsPeople should overcome fear

Fight the good fightFor each otherBecause if not,

The silence that will happenIs the silence of the dead

Fear is deathLetting it overcome you,

Letting it kill youIs just as scary as dying

Fear does killFear causes people to back into corners

Corners people did not know,Had death in it

Fear causes people to kill others To survive

But when they do not know that they'll be killed themselves

After the massacre,People who actually overcome fear

Had survivedAnd people who do not

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Are deadWith the people who did survive

Hearing their silence,And wondering:

"Why didn't they fight the fear?"

Section 2: Fiction

83

Carsten Polestak

The StarsBy Ava George

    I wish I could fly. If I could, I would fly high above the ground into the big blue sky and lily-white marshmallows clouds. I would fly with the birds and know what it feels like to be free. I would get to know why the birds sound so happy when they whistle and chirp. I would be so happy flying though the marshmallow clouds that I would cry happy tears and my tears of joy

84

would lightly rain down on the people below and give them something to feel happy about. I would be able to fly through rainbows and celebrate life with every color within them. I would climb up one side of the rainbow until I got to the tippy-tippy top and then I would I would slide down the other side. I would do it again and again until the rainbow disappeared, but I would not be sad because I would know that there will be other colorful rainbows to enjoy.

    And when the day turned to night, I would fly beyond the marshmallow clouds and into the deep dark blackness of space towards the stars. I would use the stars to find my way and the light from them to keep me from getting too scared. The stars would be my nightlight like they are when I look at them from my open bedroom window on a cool summer night and feel the breeze on my cheeks. When flying in space the stars would feel not so far away and I would feel more connected with them. The silence and the emptiness of space would not bother me so much because I would be free floating freely without anything pulling on me. I would always have the sounds of birds tweeting in my head, the memories of flying through the rainbows and sharing my tears of joy with the whole world, and the confidence of knowing nothing is beyond my reach.

Pie by Lincoln Eberly

     Have you ever made a pie before? If you haven’t, I can tell you that it is very amazing and fun experience.      I was once in my room reading my favorite book when I heard,      “Lincoln! Come here!” My dad’s voice sounded from the kitchen.      “What?” I said back. When he didn’t reply I said, “Where are you?”I came downstairs. It was a bright sunny Sunday afternoon, my favorite time of the week. I turned the corner and almost face planted into his stomach.      “What?” I said.

85

     “Want to make a pie?” My dad proposed. I hesitated. I wasn't sure about making a pie, and, I didn’t know if we had the right ingredients for the pie.      “What for?” I asked.      “No reason,” Dad said. “Just to have fun.” He added.      “Because I want part of it,”      “So yes?”      “Definitely.”      First, we had to go to the store to get some stuff for the pie, so we went to the store. The two of us barged in the door and I personally wished I had about eight more eyes. The staff were hanging up the Halloween decorations. There were witches and werewolves and those blow up things that are like inflatable tube men. But we weren’t here for decorations, we were here for the flour. We went to the food isles and retrieved the flour!      “Mission success!” Dad panted back outside the store. We drove back and finally started our pie. Dad got his famous in our family recipe out of the recipe box.      “The first thing to do is to make the crust for the bottom of the pie.” He said. We add the crust ingredients, and rolled out our crust. You could count on me to get flour all over myself. The crust felt soft and cool, like snow on a winter's night. I wanted to roll it back up into a little ball and eat it, but I knew the better outcome would be a piping hot apple pie. I had never tasted my dad’s pie before, but I heard it was a legend.     The second thing to completing the pie, after putting the bottom crust it in the pie pan, was to sugar-ify the apples. We do this by setting the apples into some cinnamon solution and adding some sugar. It’s a truly great combination, cinnamon and apples are.      “Set them down, now, be careful,” My dad tells me. The apples were a bit slidy on the grippers. I guessed he knew.     “I got it dad,” I reassure him.     “You might think that, but it is tricky.” He says mostly to himself. I lightly dip the apple down into the cinnamon solution. Suddenly there was a big bang from outside and I jumped, and the apple fell. The apple seemed to take an eternity to fall. Then plop. The cinnamon solution splashed onto my clothes and my skin. I had to get washed off while my dad was saying I told you so very repeatedly. Then the next step to sugar-ifying the apples is to freeze them. You have to freeze them for about an hour in order to make the sugar solution to stick on, and meanwhile we roll out the top piece of crust, and I watch Daequan loco for the remainder of the hour.      The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth parts to making our pie is to take our pie crusts out, put the apples on the bottom crust, trap it down with the top crust, toss it in the oven, and then wait. After thirty minutes dad turns the heat down from 425 degrees to 270 degrees. When it comes out, I cut holes in the pie and put cinnamon on top. Our pie smelled like one of those sugar cookies that’s my grandma always makes. It was going to be a huge pleasure to eat this pie.      “Then eat!” My dad says.      “Really?” I question him. I can’t believe it! I’m actually going to eat the pie! I thought.      As I bit into my dad’s apple pie I thought my dentist would kill me. My tongue was hot but I didn’t care. The only thing that was going through my head was the taste of all the flavors, the cinnamon, the apples, the crust and the sugar solution combined with the eyewatering heat. It looked amazing but it tasted, it tasted like a- I can’t even explain.      “Mmmmmmmmm!” I commented.

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     This was the best pie I had ever tasted. It had a soft, bottom crust. Along the edges was crispy and crunchy, but not too hard to bite. The top crust sprinkled with cinnamon and the apples sugary and brown. This was a true treat, I thought. I now know how my dad’s apple pie became famous in our family. Soon my plate is clean. I kind of want seconds, but I think of my mom and my brother wanting some pie, and don’t hog it.       “Om nom nom” dad’s lips smack as he devours his well-made pie.

Cretos by Brendon Tindall

Part 1: The Man In the CloakDate: October 9, 2024

The echoes of footsteps pattering down the alleyways was dulled by the nearby wailing sirens. The sounds of the pattering seemed to amplify as the footsteps carried further and further away from the sirens. These footsteps belonged to a man in a black hooded cloak walking his way down the cold, damp alleyways of the city. Passing by the occasional stray cat, probably beaten up and seemed to have a bold story to tell, almost relatable. The man kept walking through the maze of back alleys. He was running away, well not quite running because that would be pointless, nobody would find him anyways. Now a good distance from the sirens the man began to curse at himself.StupidStupidStupid

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“What was I thinking?” he said now aloud. He sighed, then leaned against one of the rotting brick walls to catch his breath. Old junk from the noodle shop up by the street littered the back alley. Neon lights glimmered around every corner on the streets. A slender building towered high above the city. Seemingly done on purpose, it almost fit the personality of the occupants within it. It was Cretos, the gothic like corporation that “defended” the city. “served for the people”. This was only if you “willingly donated to the cause”. In this city there was nothing but the poor, the rich, and the filthy rich. Now with breath to fill his lungs the man finally pulled down his hood which had come to sag barely at the tip of his nose. Then pulling off the mask covered his head, a sly dog smile etched to its surface. But he wasn’t smiling. Dings and scratches lay across the metal mask, earned, over the years. But this time there was a new one, not on the face masks however, but across his stomach. A damp alleyway probably wasn’t the best place to perform first aid on himself he thought, but there was no time. He had bled enough to turn his black cloak to a deep red velvet. Ripping some off the cloth he quickly wrapped himself up to at least stop the bleeding. He slumped against the wall, sitting on a trash bag that was suspiciously squishy, but he couldn't care less. The face of the little girl crossed his mind once again like a nightmare, but he wasn’t asleep. Then the slender, tall suited man who would scare any normal person out of their mind. Finally finding the will to stand up and continue, he slowly trudged his way out of the alleyway and into the now brisk morning of City Sector A.

Creak...Crash!The heavy metal chain gated in front of the shops throughout the city slide open to start another casual day at work the shop keepers. People start to get in their cars, kiss their wives’ goodbye for their day at work. But on 12th Willow Avenue down in the back alleyway now lie the unconscious body of the man who had run for hours only to collapse in an alleyway. Mowww...A stray cat standing nearby the garbage bin looks on the peculiar site of the human propped up against the wall not moving. “Ughhhhh” the man moaned now starting to move. The stray cat quickly darted towards the street probably never to be seen again. Putting a hand to the ground the man tried to get up, quickly regretting this while a jab of pain hit his whole body going down like a painful shiver. He slowly started to remember what was happening, what had happened, why it had happened. That girl… why had he done it…. “No.” He thought to himself. “I can’t worry about that right now … later. Now I have to find a way to not conspicuously ask someone for medical supplies.” He paused. “No problem. I do worse in a day's work.” He wasn’t sure why he was assuring himself but he now had a new-found mission, to not die. This was a mission

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that had been a more of a reoccurring goal with the recent… events. He pulled the cloak off and set it down beside him from the inside of his cloak he retrieved a small bag containing “citizen” clothing for an occasion like this. Quickly putting them on, he pulled a knife out of a small strap on his leg. Peering into it seeing a slightly distorted (and upon further inspection a slightly redder) version of him, he sighed. “It’ll do.” He muttered to himself. Yet again reassuring himself, for yet again no reason. And with that, he started limp his way out of the alleyway into the morning. Just another day in the city.

Section 3: Children’s Stories

89

Tierra Russell

Samuel Salazar Mercado

Maron Gebremeskel

90

Riley Clouse

Carly Rogers

Angel McPhee

Nominjin Batbold

Mila Djarimbetova

Allison Franco

Shelby Burns

Ellie Arterburn

Ally Shenk

Section 3:Art

91

92

Uriel G.

93

Lila Derr

94

Nate Sheer

95

Isis Haynie

96

Richa Dhakal

97

Misheel Purev-Erdene

98

Richa Dhakal

99

Harriet Shapiro

100

Anujin Enkhee

101

Lena Argirovic

102

Ankita Koirala

103

Karen Solis

104

Levi M.

105

Sofia D.

106

Kiernan Sullivan

107

Finn Travers

108

Graham Wiggins

Section 5: ContributorsName Page

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#Aaron Lopez 40Abaad González 36Abdel Soliman 83Adom Mulugeta 45Alan Izaguirre 79Alejandro Fernandez Mena 66Aleric Piper 56Alexander Harris 29Alexandra Ramos 15Aliyah Nuri 31Allison Franco 92Ally Shenk 92Anania Tadesse 47Anar Khuderchuluun 74Andrew Anderson 58Andrew Soto 65Angel McPhee 92Anjarra-Nicole Lee 67Ankita Koirala 105Annabella Handler 25Anthony Lizarazu Ampuero 68Anujin Enkhee 103Arav Singh 71Ashley Alvarez Cubas 77Aubrey Piehota-Abbott 70Ava George 86Aylin Bebek 77Aylin Bebek 78Barkhas-Od Tamir 47Beckett Milam 44Belinda Mendez Lucas 43Benjamin Lahlou 14Benson Browning 38Bianca Hall 21Blen Melese 54Brandon Tamir 18Brandon Villatoro-Flores 73Brendon Tindall 89Bryan Perez 55Carly Rogers 56Carly Rogers 92

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Caroline Mason 65Carsten Polestak 3, 85Carter Gentry 78Chris Santos Solano 63Cynthia Villaneuva 72Damian Rosas 62Dane Arterburn 37Daniel Orellana 45Daniela Bonilla Gonzalez 38Darius Mitchell 54Dawit Solomon 57Diana Rojas Hernandez 28Dulguun Bat-Ochir 49E. Terefe 84Eden Foster 74Eleina Carranza 39Eliana Lee 82Ellie Arterburn 92Elvin Yapura-Adriazola 75Emely Acosta 49Emma Abramson 73Erik Vasquez Ayala 72Ethan Medrick 22Everett Pickler 81Fabrizzio Medina Ramirez 14Finn Travers 110Fiona Roll 8Franklin Gonzalez Fuentes 78Gavin Stallings 19Hailey Diaz 76Hajar Moussaid 61Harriet Shapiro 102Hisham Kherbouch 51Ian MacKay 52Ian Patton Mosquera 45Ines Kapur 74Isabella Woodson 75Isis Hayne 98Jack Calhoun 66Jack Horne 26Jackson Montague 80Jairon Sanches- 62

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ChristobalJames Iveson 67James Moore 44Jarin Earle 49Jason Doll 13Jawan Sbeitan 46Jesse Mendez 52Jiji Matthews 69Jimmy Aguilera-Giron 57Jonathan Berrios-Cabrera 60Jordan Hickman 5Jose Galvan 7Julia Godbey 43Karen Solis 106Katherine Velasco Perez 71Kathleen Cruz Buruca 78Katie Driscoll 33Katie Ferrufino Duran 60Kendrick Tribe 47Kennedy McClary 27Kiera Fuchs 13Kiernan Sullivan 109Kjartan Quick 37Kwantae Hamlin 67Layla Eisenberg 66Lena Argirovic 104Levi M. 107Lila Deer 96Lila Deer 12Lilly Bui 66Lincoln Eberly 87Logan Hayes 50Luka Curcic 66Mahum Kamran 79Maral Enkbold 41Maron Gebremeskel 92Matthew Abramson 48Maximino Rodriguez 7Meron Mesfin 44Mia Schwoebel 71Mila Djarimbetova 92Misheel Purev-Erdene 100Mohamed Mustafa 80Nadine Beni-ich 73

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Nadyah Ahmed 20Nancy Shinekhuu 83Naomi Budan 38Nate Sheer 97Nathan Chavez 60Nominjin Batbold 58Nominjin Batbold 92Omar Polanco 17Pamela Quiroz 62Parker Matheson 69Patrick Sly 64Pedro Trejo-Sanchez 47Rafael Valdez 72Richa Dhakal 99, 101Riley Clouse 40Riley Clouse 92Robbie Rezabek-Castello 81Rose Romero Figueroa 70Ryan Cohen 16Ryan Collins 40Salwa Abulghaith 57Samip Rai 70Samuel Bekele 77Samuel Booth 35Samuel Molla 82Samuel Salazar Mercado 92Sarah Eichorn 10Shelby Burns 92Sofia D. 108Sol Gonzalez-Barnes 79Sudhatri Sharma 56Suraphael Kibrom 43Tergel Odkhuu 61Theo Mota-Clem 24Tobesta Abee 1Thomas Simms 63Togi Otgonbayar 80Tyler Chamberlain 30Uriel G. 94Will Hamon-Waldron 59William Fischer 50Yoan Gebremedhin 61Zachary Dabrowski 26

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Zainabe Guzman 4Zoe Pagonis 81

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