Jan 30
poem 5 comments challenge: Wind

Voices of the wind

They say the wind carries souls,
That’s what they say.
And if I were to believe them,
today would be the day.

The wind brought me voices,
Of people of the past,
And those of people whose lives
Will not much longer last.

People whose bodies,
Have suddenly given out,
And whose souls have given up, 
Finding a better route.

Some of us are nowhere near,
While others hang by a thread.
And others just lie around,
Waiting till they're dead.

After many years of interment,
An old man told me,
“Sometimes the greatest beauties, 
Are the ones we cannot see.”

“Be careful, my love,” 
said a woman, dead at 32. 
“The future is in your hands,
No one can change it but you.”

A young man of 16,
Body worn from a long fight,
Told me that knowledge
Is the only worthy might. 

Killed by breast cancer,
An old feminest, 73,
Jan 29
poem 1 comment challenge: Shy
JordanSara's picture


You must be loud
like a bird screaming at the sky
they said

And I try, I try so hard
to be 
and I am...

but sometimes the words are
hard to say, they...
end up broken like

a butterfly pulled from the cocoon
mangled, crumpled
with only whispers of grace left.

You must be loud
they said
and I am...

but little do they know it is a lie
that speaks for me
and my real voice...

my real voice
is small and
barely says a word.

is a funny word
and my pen converts to its liking.
Jan 28


O Beast of the tangled wild
O friend in help and hope
You've conquered the shyest child
Teaching them how to learn and cope

Your life has been a patient quest
Of wonderful watching bliss,
I've turned to you in times of test
Knowing but only this:

It is hard to think that people know you
As a product to hurt and hunt,
But in my silver heart that's true,
You are simply
Jan 28
poem 0 comments challenge: Tomorrow
slavike's picture

Hopeful for Tomorrow

Tomorrow, I hope that kindness spreads, love blooms, and hope rises.
Kindness should continue to spread because the more we give to the world the more the world will give us in return. When we take the time to be kind to someone it will surprise us how good we feel. Spreading love leads to happier lives. The more we look for the good in people the more people we can connect to and appreciate. Have you ever felt amazing just because someone has your back? If more people have hope in each other the more we can trust that others will do the right thing. Studies show that the people who have self-esteem and self-love end up having more success in life. Showing kindness can brighten people’s self- esteem.

Tomorrow it will happen...
Tomorrow, I hope that our society learns to accept, that our communities learn to bond, and that our world learns to forgive. 
Jan 26
fiction 0 comments challenge: Wind
Gretta K's picture

Paperwind plane

Sitting in the same classroom for the fourth time this week. What could be more boring? Today is a fascinating lecture on who knows what. In fact, that notecard the teacher gave me, to write down something I learned, is more interesting than the class. Sketching that one thing that I know how to draw can get boring though. I choose to go for the origami route instead. Not real origami. I’m not that skilled. I’ll stick to a paper airplane. Yeah, a paper airplane. I flip the card over so the wings don’t have the blue stripes on them. Readjusting from my slouched position to leaning over my desk, I begin to fold. Meticulously bending the card to get the creases to stay. Then I find my target. The trashcan across the room. Oh, wait. The recycling bin,or else someone will call me out on putting paper in the trash. I hold my artwork between my index finger and thumb, releasing it just as my wrist flicks forward. Soon, I have no control over its path.
Jan 26

thumb pick

i wish i knew you. 

god, i’ve heard so much. 

i don’t know your eye color 


somehow i always feel guilty 

when people ask 


and i know i was there 


it still feels like

i was never there 



i can remember the way 

you made me feel, 

in a way. 

it’s quite dull 

and fading now. 

everyone talks about how 

amazing you 

were— their eyes 

light up

and i can’t stand it 

because i can’t 

feel that way about a stranger. 

and that’s what you are. 

a stranger. 

without photographs 

you would just be another face 

in the crowd.
Jan 26
Eloise Silver Van Meter's picture

Base and Fetid

The Village Store, with its dim fluorescent lights, creaky floors, and expired milk, seems to stay open solely from selling coffee, Mountain Dew, and condoms. As I walk to the cashier, an old man follows me, and with a raspy voice and a dirty-toothed smirk asks, “How are you doing?” My heartbeat makes my whole body tremble and my imagination rushes to the worst: he watches gross videos online, drinks alone every night, and loiters in the back of the store waiting to pounce on his teenage prey.
Jan 24

For My Sister, In Her Year Of The Rat

Little sister
You are not little anymore
And to me
You're really more like a twin. 
I have grown with you
And you have grown with me
And you were my first friend
And you are my best
And you are the best.
You are funny
And sometimes loud
But sometimes I am louder.
You are light
And spontaneous starwatching
And you are impatient 
But you hold a kind of patience I could never master.

This year is for you.
It's yours to take
By ancient birthrights.
I made up for one of my frustrating, half-thought-out games
But that doesn't make it any less real
For Harry, it may be inside your head
But you can still reach it, grasp it
And even then reach farther than you ever could imagine.
You are the best kind of weird that ever was
If that's what they want to call it
But I call it

Jan 21

Here, fix this

"Here, fix this."
They say, handing out the homework.
I stare at the world - er worksheet.
This is a problem I can't go alone.
The world is heating,
what am I supposed to do?
The oceans are rising,
what am I supposed to do?
Species are dying,
what am I supposed to do?
We are dying...
what am I supposed to do?
I raise my hand,
"What are we supposed to do?"
The billionaire - er teacher looks up.
"Fix it."
Nobody is working,
we are all solemnly staring at
our world - er worksheet.
It's quiet,
I can hear the clock ticking away
the seconds we have left.
The CEOs - er teacher tells us to hand them in.
I am the last to hand mine in.
I notice no one wrote anything on theirs.
We sit down.
I raise my hand again.
"What was the answer?"
The president - er teacher looks startled.
He doesn't say anything.
"Never mind,"
Jan 20

Birthday Blues

I'm old.
The last day being the age I am is - the same.
And yet I'm scared.
Funny how one number can make you think about everything that's happened
I only look back longingly,
because I'll never get those years back.
And strange enough I want them back.
I miss them - and as of tomorrow -
I feel I won't be able to get them back at all.
Only in pictures.
I'll be the same me - but with a different number.
But that number I left, all of them, still mean a lot to me.
Each time I leave one - I miss it.
Each time I gain one, I'm scared at what it will bring.
Each time I look ahead - I'm excited-
But when it finally arrives, I shy away from it again.
And yet it manages to stare back at me on a birthday cake.
And I'm forced to face the new age, the new me, head on.
With fire and wax.
And then it falls upon me - like a familiar T-shirt. And I wear it proudly.
Jan 20

The Girl on the Bus

A baby cried
Tucked under a mother's bouncing arm
Two old women talked
Their coin purses pinched between gloved fingers
A boy graffitied his name on the window
A girl stuck her gum under the armrest
Clearly tired with the flavor
Most everyone sat in the lime green seats
Swaying as the subway hurled down the tunnels
They watched their screens
Swiping past the photos they took
And those they wish they took
Eyes absorbing the images
Like a child sucking down a milkshake
But they were immune to such pain
The same thing that ruined their life
Was the thing they coped with
Never wanting to let go of the screen in their hand
Till it molded to their fingers
Their necks bent 
Earbuds snug in their ears
Fading into the wallpaper
Their voice not their own
But one of those on the screen
I stood swaying in the aisle 
Hand firmly gripping the pole
Jan 18


Sure, we're not the best team.
In fact, this was our first win this season
But we won anyway.
That was us 
WE scored those points
WE made those awesome plays
WE worked our butts off. 
Yeah, that was US!
WE had the confidence 
WE worked perfectly together 
WE had the strength to go for it.
We won anyway.
SO WHAT if we aren't perfect 
SO WHAT if we weren't right every time 
SO WHAT if the odds were against us.
That was us.
We won anyway. 


Jan 15

The reason I met the universe

I just met the universe.

You may think, "What?"

But indeed I did.

I just met the universe.

Sometimes, I like to think that you can't possibly be lonely,

unless you haven't met the universe.

The universe is like a friend.

It's always there for you.

You look up,

it's right there,

soaring high above treetops,

skimming skyscrapers,

racing through mountaintops.

Yes, the universe is a wonderful thing.

Just positively wonderful.

I have no regrets about my life so far.

Do you know why?

Because I just met the universe.

Jan 15

Holding her hand

When she is born, you hold her close. You caress her small, soft head as you put her to sleep. You hold her hands as her small, pudgy feet pad across the white carpet. She clings to you fiercely as you urge her onto the bus for her first day of school. Your smile is her only reassurance.

When she gets onto a bike without training wheels for the first time, you give her shoulder a squeeze, then grip the back of her seat. You give her a thumbs up and she’s off. You walk with her, then run, still holding onto the seat. You finally let go. She flies down the street, as if you were still holding on. But then she starts to teeter, and her feet can’t keep up with the pedals. She tips over and falls. She gets hurt. It’s not the only time. All you can do is put Band-Aids on her cuts and wipe away her tears.

It surprises you when you realize that you're the one crying.
Jan 13

October 10th

Yesterday was Yom Kippur &
someone fueled by hate
went to a synagogue
with the intention to hurt.

One of the girls in my class is Jewish,
and today she pulled out her prayer book 
that she had been holding to her chest all day
to read the mourning prayer to everyone.

She said that since she heard the news,
that prayer book had stayed close
to her. She told everyone that
it made her feel better,
reminded her of forgiveness,
and God.

And I thought that
I wished I had a prayer book
of my own 
and a God of my own
to guide me like this girl
was guided by her faith.

I thought, it sounds nice
to always have a hand to hold.

Jan 12
Eloise Silver Van Meter's picture

When I Speak of Magic

When I think of magic
I’m immersed in the swamp behind my home
holding pine trees and an old yellow birch
with mysterious scaly vines
that I used to climb on and become a creature other than human.
The woods where I would be running 
away from what mythical beast would 
be so envious and intrigued by my delicate fairy wings and hysterical joy and rosy cheeks,
the mysticism I held in my smile.
––leaping over the creek, the snap of a branch––
And the runner’s high would kick in
and I would smile and then cry out of fear
and I couldn’t feel my heartbeat and it was as if I was dead or dreaming
but then I felt it again and focused on
running jumping leaping dodging skipping

When I think of magic
It is writing poetry on the college-ruled lines
when subtly my head moves to a melody
Jan 11
poem 1 comment challenge: Unusual
isabelle.chen's picture

The sun and the moon

She had the brightest of complexions,
Bathed among the wisps of morning kindle,
The ignition of intense light sought out upon the vivid sky.
From the outside, she was golden in every way,
Looking oh so perfect amidst the clouds.
For she was the sun,
Standing proudly above.

He sat back in the shadows,
Observing her closely.
He could see the great toll it took to uphold her hardships,
To blaze the brightest out of everyone.
But her color, the fullest at day
Was duller toward night.
So the moon sat up to his fullest height
And paraded toward the sun.
Without words exchanged,
The sun knew the purpose of the moon’s descent,
A silent understanding between the two.
She steadily retreated back, but not before she shimmered bright one last time,
Directing her gratitude at the moon.
She closed her eyes to rest
And the moon called out to his star companions.
Jan 10


When you breathe, breathe in happiness,
Thoughts of what you could be if there was peace.
Circle your hand in the water.
It goes around forever, it breathes with you.
If you rest, let your whole body rest.
Lie back into the waves and let them carry you.
This is life. It is yours and it is peaceful. 
Blow bubbles into the water
And play with what the world has given you
Like a dolphin splashing through the waves.
Nothing ends
At the horizon. 
Come back to your roots,
The childhood that you once played in,
Enjoy that forever.
Feel your toes on the sandy, muddy earth. 
Reach out and smile.
You can always come back
To where you once knew what happiness was.
Dive down under the water.
It is there to hold you when you need it. 
Breathe always, 
Balance carries the world on its shoulders. 
Laugh into the wind.
It whips your hair and laughs with you. 
Jan 09

Mind in the stars

The World is a development

Success has created an alternate ego

For our minds

Many times I wonder

Whether the world has a family

Where they are from

Why they are here

And what does the world think

Of what we are doing
Childhood dreams

Are like sleeping houses

Lying among the reeds

Seaweed intermingles with translation

Old papers and ambition

Swirl together

Opening the secrets 
Some days are like finding


Walking through trees

There are old things here

We only have things left

To find
So turn the page

Just turn the page

And find the new story

Moonlight and starlight

Turning dreams

Turning moonlights dreams

Into reality 
Already before us

The sun was born
Jan 06

To the Boy Who Danced in the Cafeteria Before the Bell

I am often not who I think I am. 
When I was in 6th grade I counted birds
out of the bus window on my way to school. 
I dreamed about flying as much as falling from high places. 

Today the lunch lady smiled back
when I said: "thank you". 

Today, the music resonated from the cardboard speakers
like a tired bee
and became little more than my miracle. 

He is a flash of wild hair and flailing arms
and freedom that washes away down the white hallway,
flooding every imprisoned brick with electric orange. 

If he was a paint color his name would be "Awake". 

I wanted to join him. 
I wanted to find joy in simplicities,
like cafeteria music on a Monday afternoon.  

He probably used to count birds too. 
He has already become my lighthouse.