CCNY Poetry Outreach Center
MIDDLE SCHOOLS
IF I COULDN’T DREAM
If I couldn’t dream,
where would I go to sleep?
Would I float away
like a person in the Dead Sea?
Would my imagination shatter
like a fallen glass?
Would I crumble
like a bad grade?
What if I’m the only person?
What if I want to dream—
will I dream?
If it’s not a dream,
is it a nightmare?
Will it ever end?
Nightcrawlers
creepy-crawlers
climbing up and down my skin!
My skin?
Your skin?
If I couldn’t dream,
where would I go when I sleep?
Siomara Dominguez
Mott Hall, 6th Grade
IF I COULDN’T DREAM
I would be mean
I’d have no quest
to complete or achieve
I’d live in a world with sadness
and be in complete madness
I wouldn’t work
and I’d look like a dork
I would be in a classroom
that looks like a lost room
I wouldn’t be able to read
and nobody would be in the lead
And nobody would follow
and people would feel sorrow
Adrian Galo
Mott Hall, 6th Grade
UNNOTICED DREAMS
What will happen to a dream unnoticed?
Will I simply forget?
Will my goals be unset?
Goals are just dreams with deadlines.
Will we lose our purpose?
If the dream is unnoticed
it will surely die with me
and be stuck forever
because nobody will know
what goes on in my head.
With my dreams unnoticed,
with your dreams unnoticed,
where can they possibly go?
Alyna Gutierrez
Mott Hall, 6th Grade
ALL ABOUT TEACHERS
Teachers are the best type of people.
Teachers are caring, intelligent, and positive.
They care about students so much they give us gifts,
love and intelligence.
Some students may think, “Oh, I don’t like this teacher.”
Well, I love teachers no matter what and nobody can change my opinion!
Teachers hear this or that; they might feel sad on the inside,
but they try their best, supporting and helping students.
All the 6 th , 7 th , and 8 th grade teachers at Mott Hall are so caring
it makes me feel like they’re a real part of my family.
I might ask a lot of questions, or others might ask a lot of questions, and
teachers might get stressed, but I know for a fact
they will always care for us.
Anaiah Mejia
Mott Hall, 6th Grade
THE BOLD AND KIND FROG
Whose frog is that? I think I know.
It’s owner is quite happy though.
Full of joy like a vivid rainbow,
I watch her laugh. I cry hello.
She gives her frog a shake,
and laughs until her belly aches.
The only other sound’s the break
of distant waves and birds awake.
The frog is bold, kind and deep,
but she has promises to keep.
After cake and lots of sleep,
sweet dreams come to her, cheap.
Brianna Molina
Mott Hall, 6th Grade
I SAW A DEVIL IN THE SUBWAY
Bright red horns
my skin could be torn
Flying cars
never-ending roars—
Everyone runs; this isn’t fun.
​
Stations, falling apart, just like peoples’
hearts.
Bang, bang, go the police
with their guns
as everybody runs.
I haven’t seen this before
People are hitting the floors and rushing
towards the door—
I saw a devil in the subway.
Anna Santos
Mott Hall, 6th Grade
A BLACK GIRL IN NEW YORK CITY
I'm just a black girl in New York City,
Thinking if my color defines my success.
I'm just a black girl in New York City,
Unintelligent to the eye.
I'm just a black girl in New York City
With the “just’ written in bold
I'm just a black girl in New York City
Trying to shine my black beauty
I'm just a black girl in New York City
Contradicting those thinking my color stands as bad
I'm just a black girl in New York City
just trying to be me
My silence
Has prevented me from being my normal self
My silence
Has let others control me
My silence
Has got me tired of this life,
Where I'm too scared to speak for me
My silence
Has made me seem respectful to adults,
But a puppet to my peers
My silence
Has made me rely on writing
To take over for my voice
Naomi Solomon
Ella Baker, 8th Grade
TIMELESS
Timeless is my name
An eternity in Toronto
Three quarters and counting in Riverdale Hyacinths and candles
Not a single red string
Your name is my scar
Your mantra is my cry
Voiceless children don’t yell or scream My elusive eyes
Fail to dry
Timeless is my name
As I have seen it all
Sumina Ali
Talented & Gifted, 7th Grade
WAR
the battle
a battle among brothers, sisters and friends
some may claim it ends
but war’s fiery eyes never die
pounding away at the spirits of warriors
bringing in crashing waves of deafening sadness
which creep into the hearts of many
Fiona Bellinder
Talented & Gifted, 7th Grade
​
​
TIME
Time is an essence of which we don’t understand
It can end as quickly as it
Began
We try and control it and force everything
To be our Puppets
Our Rock is slowly dying and makes people start crying
We are
Just a speck of
Dust in a massive colorless mass filled with crust
But no matter what we
Shall achieve, we always mean better.
Rene Fiarville
Talented & Gifted, 7th Grade
BROKEN GLASS
I can hear it
The glass shatter
I can hear it
Their desperate wails
I can feel
Their desperation I can hear
Their questions
During the night of broken glass
Tileli Kachenoura
Talented & Gifted, 7th Grade
FAMILY
Red and hot
One word leads to another
Slowly I die
Only to be alive again.
We come, blue and calm
Hands together
Only peace
Tough love between all
Red rage, blue peace
The cycle begins again
Arham Miah
Talented & Gifted, 7th Grade
THE LIGHT
There’s a light trying to escape
covered by all the negative emotions.
the sadness of violence
the despair of a broken heart
the light trying to escape
the scratches trying to cloud it all
will the light ever make it?
everything clouding my
judgement
all the sadness
all the despair
will the light ever make it
Make it out alive
Amber Brennan
Talented & Gifted, 8th Grade
THE BUTTERFLY
A butterfly providing light whispering into my ear,
everything’s gonna be alright
bullied in school
bullied at home
a fool? yup, that’s me.
crying so heavily
I don’t want to be seen
all I want is to be free.
Starting over sounds like a relief
hopefully born as a butterfly, away from worries,
away from stress slowly giving up...
A fool? yup, that’s me.
Ashanty Guillermo
Talented & Gifted, 8th Grade
​
​
OUR GENERATION
We live in a time
Where we live with politics and wrong, twisted
Lies
A glass barrier between us
and them
The immigrants, caged in a system
of bills, laws, and one prejudicial president
We are corrupted by
the right and wrong
Our natural instinct becomes the second-guesser.
But today, our generation will break the barrier. Either the encaged will come to us
Or we will go and help them
Our generation will win
for the next generation and the ones after
Freedom is never won,
you earn it in every generation
Mahir Hossain
Talented & Gifted, 8th Grade
TASTE OF GLORY
It’s my first swim competition
I practice every day in hopes of winning
Everyday involves me swimming
The only thing on my mind every day is winning
The day of the competition approaches
You hear “Asher Levy’s rep Taylor Jones step up”
I step onto the diving board
I feel the coolness of the pool on my face
I hear the crowd go quiet
I get nervous because I know what comes next
I hear the whistle
As I enter the water a chill goes from the top of my head to the tips of my toes
I feel the cold water flow across my skin
I see the blurry bottom of the pool
I open my mouth to breathe
The taste of chlorine fills my mouth
​
I reach the wall
I look around and see no one
And that’s how I know I won
Taylor Jones
Talented & Gifted, 8th Grade
ODE TO SLEEP
I’m waiting for sleep to arrive
random thoughts coming and going
they don’t matter, they just distract me from my goal
to keep my eyes shut
and force the rest upon me
i try to stay still; my mom says that helps,
but the song i’m listening to is getting old so i change it
but the next one isn’t good enough either
the harsh light hurts my eyes
i squint
maybe silence will do my eyebags justice
a few minutes ago i had gotten up to close the blinds
it was pitch black then, my body being just an accessory
to the heaviness of it
and to think
i used to be afraid of the dark
Laila Konklanakis
Talented & Gifted, 8th Grade
LOVE
We all have squishes and crushes
And more than friends. We’ve
Stared and stole glances
In the middle of classes.
We’ve confessed, been rejected, and
Jumped for joy. We’ve seen
The best and worst of the
World, and you think they’re
It. They’re your world,
the only source of happiness.
Whether they care for you or
Ignore you, you still care.
But when they break you,
Would you take back what
You said?
Megan Lee
Talented & Gifted, 8th Grade
DON’T HOLD YOUR BREATH
Slippery
is what it is
as the bloodred water
trickles though the
forest floor
to be stained and stained
by what is believed to be conscience
the trees
raw responsive
leer with intention
so seemingly calm before intention begins
to the forest floor
now stained with intent
there goes
the sanctuary of my irrelevant intention is raw
a reflection.
Najia Niha
Talented & Gifted, 8th Grade
SEVENTH
GRADE CULT LEADER
Last year I was mean
A bit of a bully
But my eyes were opened
by a therapeutic friend
I can see clearly now
I used to be a cult leader
Now I let my minions fly
This is the beginning of a new chapter
Keoluwa Ojo
Talented & Gifted, 8th Grade
CATHEDRAL IN BARCELONA
Mighty stalagmites
Hanging down
with intricate designs carved out of the stone.
Delicate arches—the word of centuries
Lichen trees upside-down
A breath of wind—
and the image shatters, ripples spreading across the lake.
A mighty cathedral.
Towering up,
With intricate designs carved out of stone
Delicate arches
the work of centuries
Trees right-side-up again
Edward Oxborough
Talented & Gifted, 8th Grade
BIGOTRY IN AMERICA
Bigotry is in America
A lot of discriminating
Racist people all around
And all of them are debating
They say that “All Muslims are terrorists”
and that “All black people steal”
But all they want
Is life and a meal
Not everyone is the same
Even if they share a race
We are all humans
And going to the same place
So this is something to think about
How badly we treat others
Even though we might not think it
But we are all brothers
Riley Ruiz
Talented & Gifted, 8th Grade
THE CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS
I love the city that never sleeps
Productivity is in the air
Cars drive down the congested streets
People are walking everywhere
Underground, subways whiz by
The tunnels are ruled by rats of the horde.
Meanwhile, skyscrapers tower high
In the sky, the pigeons nest and soar
The air could be clear or filled with smog
Open your mouth and taste the dust
Pass by Central Park as you jog,
The city of the old is beginning to rust
Here in the city, green is seldom found
with nature confined to the outnumbered parks
The city that never sleeps because of the sound
The city that never sleeps because it is never dark
David Wang
Talented & Gifted, 8th Grade
I AM MONA LISA
No one has ever asked me,
but they look every day.
I didn’t ask to be painted
and put on a wood-crafted frame.
Millions and millions pass by,
Staring.
Don’t they know staring is rude?
The historians and theorists, they ask, but not to me.
Why did she smile?
I smiled, so what?
I never asked for this,
Not the center of attention.
Whispers. theories, rumors, questions, people ask but not to
me.
Dull colors, brush strokes, still smile,
I am the one everyone knows, but no one knows,
I am Mona Lisa
Ina Zahra
Talented & Gifted, 8th Grade
IF ONLY I KNEW
If only I knew
if only I knew the pain you felt
the pain that hurt you
the pain that destroyed you
little
by
little
If only I knew the darkness that came upon you
the darkness that drowned you deep below the sea
the darkness that tore you up
the darkness that destroyed you
little
by
little
If only I knew the shadow that overpowered you
the shadow that convinced you you’ve had enough
the shadow that destroyed you
little
by
little
If only I knew the emptiness you felt
the numbness
the hurt you felt that destroyed you
little
by
little
If only I knew the feeling of darkness surrounding you
if only I knew the dark pit you fell into
if only I knew the pain that destroyed you
little
by
little
Aya Alsabri
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
COLD AS STONES
Loaded with doubt
As the rain starts to sprout
Dropless cover the sky like arrows released to fly
Piercing through their skin
Only fragments of clothing to cover them within
Bare flesh exposed to the elements
Pieces of cloth stitched together with no elegance
To block out the outside
Wrapping those who have been cast aside
Filling them with the feeling of some kind of home
Isn’t it enough to block out the past they once roamed
Laying down on the ground
No doors or wall to block out the wind around
And the looks of pity and shame
That spread across their faces in flames
From those placed on the other side of the door
Are blocked and locked in a place needed to be restored
As the outside for others provides the harshest showers
Becomes the inside for them for hours
The trees covering them with shade
Are their mothers taking them in to aid
No food within them to reach their bones
As they lie empty and cold as stones
Going through someone’s old and making something new
But hunger still lurks within them making them blue
The need for eating
Becomes a search for a meeting
And putting it aside
On the top of the list needed to be supplied
Losing the dignity they once had
Embedded in our world
A social disease that must be curtailed
An issue that must be heard
To ignore it is absurd
Aiding others must occur
For the help of others will save the future
Yael Atiae
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
WORDS KILL THE KIND
Words kill the kind,
the pain she causes you won’t disappear
Her words poked at your heart,
Ripped out your soul,
You’re long gone because of her,
I want to bring you back but I can’t.
She felt good about what you did,
I miss you
And your laughter.
Your smile that “brightened the room,”
Your kind heart that loved everyone.
Her messages,
Burned inside your throat
You had enough and have I
Words kill the kind.
Gabby Carpio
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
​
​
GOODBYE
She wants to be heard.
Sing.
But Her screams
Die out
Into the Moon.
Notes disappear,
Echoing
Across the waves.
People Dance, they Dance
On the water.
But still the Girl Sinks
Empty
Frozen
Alone
Gone.
Because even the Shiny Stars
Fade,
Even the Old Stars are
alone
sometimes.
Laura DePaolo
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
PAPER CAGE
Promises drip from lips
to shatter against the floor
words sharp with resentment
are bitter to taste
​
Staring out the window
2 in the morning
brittle laughs, heavy murmurs
rising from the street below
Shadows of her wait by the bus stop, in the train station
hauling heavy backpacks with broken zippers
up and down the subway stairs
keys in hand
boots laced tight
Due dates weigh
shoulders sag
keys limp in hand
boots laced tighter
“She is bitter”
She is one of many
who feel this way
she is not ignorant of this
she is not ignorant
She is growing up
as the world around her dies
teenager in a busy world
too busy for her
“She is young”
To blast trashy music
dancing alone in the dark
to devour books, shaky towers of titles with stained pages
and broken spines
to sit on the fire escape
blue pen between her fingers
cheap nail polish flaking off her nails
“She is the future”
She’s told she’s bright
bright girl
bright life
bright, perfect
Folders, notebooks, binders
shelves of empty sketchbooks
seas of handwritten notes
built her own paper cage
Cracks creep across
porcelain skin
deepening, widening
spider web of stess
She is bright
She is young
She is bitter
She is shattering
Petra Dijur
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
JANUARY
A delightful view
Of little specks floating free
Raining down by one
Landen Giambalvo
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
SOCIAL JUSTICE
Every day, animal species are dying in vain,
Disappearing like toxic water going down a drain
Fires are burning, the seas are churning
Hurricane are drowning us in rain
Every second, a polar bear’s home melts into a warming sea,
It won’t be long before they exist only in our memory
​
Our air is polluted, this can’t be disputed
Oxygen will soon be a precious commodity
What can be done, we ask in despair
Is the planet we love beyond repair??
Our generation must quickly evolve
To fix what generations before us failed to resolve
The burden is heavy, the mission is clear
Fight for the earth because the end is near
Noa Goveia
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
I DIDN’T KNOW
I didn’t know
who she was
I didn’t know
she was already crumbling under the pressure
I didn’t know
it bothered her to hear what I said
I didn’t know
she broke a little more every time someone mentioned it
I didn’t know
she heard us laughing every time
I didn’t know
she was ready to cry every time she walked into the room
I only know
what they told me to do
I only know
it wasn’t meant to push her over the edge
I only know
it was her or me
I only know
that I shouldn’t have let it get that far
I only know
this isn’t how it was supposed to go
I didn’t know
she would jump and never look back.
Becca Greenberg
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
TRUST
Isn’t it bizarre,
how sometimes you can trust strangers?
You can trust them to give you the right directions.
You can trust them to help you not be lost.
Isn’t it weird,
that you can trust strangers,
but not your friends?
Trust.
It’s an odd thing, isn’t it?
It can heal you,
or it can break you.
It broke me,
but I’m thankful.
Yes, I thank the trust that broke me.
It made me understand.
I am no longer blind.
I know the difference now,
fake and real,
truth and lie.
Good and bad,
shattered and whole.
Trust.
It may break you,
but it’s actually healing you.
Believe me,
I speak from experience.
I thought I was broken like glass,
but I was mistaken.
I had the glue to heal all along.
​
Trust
It healed me when it broke me.
It made me see the difference.
Fake and real,
truth and lie.
Trust.
It made me wiser.
I may be a stranger to you,
but remember what I said?
Sometimes you can trust strangers,
but not your friends.
So I ask you to trust me
when I tell you this.
Choose your friends wisely.
Because sometimes,
you think you know who you can trust,
when you really don’t.
Trust.
It will break you one day,
only then will you see
the differences I see.
Fake and real,
truth and lie.
Trust.
Syeda Muntaha
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
YOU
Curse you
curse you and your bright smile
your contagious smile
I hate you because
you make butterflies flutter in my stomach
you make my blood rush to my cheeks
and I hate it
I hate how you make my mood brighten when you talk to me
or look my way
I hate it
how dare you make me feel this way
stop
I said stop
do you not understand
stop being so funny
stop being so smart
stop because you’re playing with my heart
all the years I’ve known you
I mean I should have seen it coming
it should have been obvious
I’ve caught feelings once or twice
but they were pesky like mice
I got rid of them
but I could never get rid of you
the source of all my problems
I wish you would be gone
but I don’t because
your laughter is contagious
you brighten up my mood
oh you
what am I supposed to do about you?
Marlee Newell
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
GRAY AND GREEN MOUNTAINS
Gray and green mountains
topped with alabaster snow.
This is where it takes me.
How? I don’t know.
Golden grass fields
swaying softly in the breeze.
The sweet melody
that makes me weak in the knees.
​
Deep blue skies
not a cloud in sight.
With hints of paler tints.
Uncluttered delight.
Rich black soil
soft to the touch.
Water spills off the riverbank,
not too little, not too much.
Jackrabbits in the field
parading on the ground.
Calling to each other,
but I can barely hear the sound.
I wake, as the train stops with a jolting halt.
The song from my headphones stop
as I take them off.
Rising from my seat,
I have a sudden change of mind
and put them back on.
The vision is easy to find.
Stepping off the train now,
I know exactly where to go.
The image faces back because
this is where it takes me.
And I’ll let the music take me slow.
Stella O’Flynn
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
THAT PLASTIC BOTTLE
Crinkle, crunch
that plastic bottle sounds
before you toss it
to the ground
then the wind
comes into play
and carries your bottle
to the ocean waves
where it meets a friend
that plastic straw
you threw away
just yesterday
together they travel
to the coral reefs
to a sandy beach
where they meet a turtle
that doesn’t live
another day
Kiera O’Neill
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
AMELIA POOR IS
not a poet
an organized mess
a tiny box
full of surprises
waiting for the cast list to come out
a journalist
a bee
fuzzy on the outside
quick to sting
a carefully planned
color coded
schedule
with a key
that only some
can read
a messy locker
with no front flap
and a too small pair of shoes
inside
​
ready for nothing
and everything
Amelia Poor
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
IN ACTION
Who are you?
The Bystander?
Who watches bad things happen,
but stands to one side,
who lets the terrible transpire
because it isn’t their business, their problem, their friends or family.
Who is apathetic and indifferent.
An insensitive observer to the cruel injustices of the world.
Or are you an Upstander
who fights for important changes,
who makes sure that no wrong goes unchallenged,
who stands up and strives to make the world a better place,
for those who come after.
We cannot continue to exist, if most of us stand to the side.
We all must stand up and take action.
We all must stand together,
forget our differences,
have hope, compassion and kindness,
so we can make sure
future generations will know
that those who came before
stood for what mattered,
so future generations will do the same.
Enzo Roberto
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
THE WORLD IS CHANGING
Look around
The world’s burning
But still you hear factories churning
You think you can do nothing
As animals are huffing and puffing
But still you sit there
In your lawn chair
Thinking of all the things you would lose
From those big factories that make those horrible
fumes
​
The earth tries to give us signes
But we blow them off with a roll of our eyes
The consequences will be severe
But people sit with their beers
While some keep trying as hard as they can
There will always be those who like to sit down and get tan
But we must keep on going
And never stop showing
The earth is counting on us
To do what’s right and bring harmony
To an urgency
That is certainly
Going to destroy this world
And while some may look past it
We must do better
Because the world is fading
And it needs saving
Joaquim Ross
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
THE WOMAN
A woman walks
along the surface
of our planet
she stumbles
injured
trips over a piece of trash
and falls
passes a factory
smoke rising from its pipes
traveling past
a roaring flame
burning down what used to be a lush green forest
dead animals sprawled on the ground
animals who have not yet met their fate
squealing, barking, chirping
in agony
the smoke rises further
heating up the ice caps
in the Arctic
making the weather warmer
where it should be cold
the ice breaks
the wrong type of icebreaker
leaving animals stranded
on small cold islands
left to die
the ice caps dissolve
in the already deep ocean
spreading water
all over the world
drowning the stranded animals
creating disastrous floods
destroying both creatures and their environments
soon
the earth herself will split
the only memories of life
will be the trash
that the woman once tripped over
injured
Anna Tseytlin
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
AN ASTRONOMICAL CREATURE
A person bigger than the eye can see
to all but the ones who flee
set apart from me.
As he placed his pen in the breeze
it occurred to me
he did not see
that the dot was alive
with thoughts of my own.
I stopped at the pen, perplexed.
I recognized the threat and bolted away from the man
to another strip of paper
that was foul in stench.
I turned around and with revulsion I turned to escape.
I must seem small and weak but a set of feet complete
I had to show to show I must not die.
For I run with horror and dismay
and even I will hesitate
to wonder if the human will kill a creature like me.
He seemed to enjoy my discomfort,
to watch me become afraid
of dying by his hand.
For he has the power,
over my being,
able to see if I survive or die.
But instead of killing me
he lets me go.
I have a mind and recognize
the pity bestowed upon me and I flee
hoping to find glee
in another place
where I can be free.
Alice Wu
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
FRAIL IS NOT A FAIRY TALE
I am thinking of a fairy tale,
Soft Shang,
Powerless Charming,
Fragile Beast,
where the hero is not
muscular, brawny,
showing off their strengths.
I am thinking of a fairy tale,
Cowardly Phillip
Afraiddan,
Princess and the Freak,
where the hero
has scrawny little fingers,
and a body as thin as a stick.
I amthinking of a fairy tale
that is unwritten,
for an unborn teller,
for a not yet conceived listener,
for a not yet won world,
where everything slender is good:
the stick, pole, string, and the hero.
Luna Zhang
M.S. 51, 8th Grade
THEY SAY
I, Mother Earth, was born into space.
Innocent and beautiful
as a new spring flower.
Glistening, dancing oceans
cold, powerful glaciers
sunny, arid deserts
steaming, colorful rainforests
all singing with life.
These humans
who live
a fraction
of my
lifetime
do not see me fully.
They say, how beautiful!
They say, home, sweet home!
They say, I’ll take care of you forever!
They say, save the turtles!
They say, I love you!
But they focus only
on building their gold pile,
as jealous dragons might,
digging deeper and deeper holes.
​
They say, I’m uncomfortable.
They say, I need convenience.
They say, I can’t do that right now.
They say, I’m too tired.
They say, someone else will do it, why should I have to?
They say, but I’m thirsty right now!
They take.
I give.
They take more,
then more still.
And I fear I will be reduced to
a faint shadow, ghost,
of the pure radiant beauty
that once shone out of my undamaged self.
They say, what happened?
They say, what did you do?
They say, whoops.
They say, not my problem.
They say, it was inevitable.
They say, I tried all along.
And then they don’t say anything.
Ivy Morris
M.S. 88, 6th Grade
DARKNESS
Darkness
Overtakes me
Like waves
High tide
Crashing down
Swallowing whoever gets
In its way
Darkness
Like Hades
No mercy
Go for the kill
No lives
Being spared
Not today
Not ever
You must succumb
To the darkness
Which will overpower you
There is no escape
Sonya Ruvinsky
M.S. 88, 6th Grade
TRANSIENCE OF NATURE
The first green of nature, starting the image of my journey
Because nature is so undefined
That it can twist me up
So, I pull away from myself
As the flowers get spoiled by losing their cuteness
The leaves are crushing
The greenery all over are quarreling
The water droplets from the sky
While birds are pollinating
Doesn’t nature seem hilarious?
Or even devious?
Nature will not show beginning to end
But equals a balancing scale of life
I celebrate the transience of nature because I like
To picture a balanced reality.
Shahrul Rahim
M.S. 88, 8th Grade
SHY
Shy is when you are scared to talk to people,
And you are nervous like a cat
that does not speak, doesn’t talk,
doesn’t want to spread your feelings.
Shy, that feeling of mixture,
like when I was small it took me a long time to speak out loud.
I was always quiet as a mouse.
I got nervous when I talked.
It still happens
I get scared when I say the wrong word.
Look at me today. I talk loud!!!!
Ana
M.S. 113, 6th Grade
CHEETAH
Cheetahs run fast as a J train
Speeding downtown.
Their spots are black like ink they like to live in caves
and when animals go by,
they punch like a lion
Cheetahs are also scavengers
They steal leftover food.
Cheetahs are endangered and
When people wear their fur,
it is a tragedy.
Saquan Battle
M.S. 113, 6th Grade
ARTIST
I am a creative person who loves to draw. Loves to dance.
An origami maker.
I express my feelings by making
Beautiful things.
I taught myself to be a young lady
who creates art.
Kimberly Bryant
M.S. 113, 6th Grade
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ME
I am cool as vanilla ice cream,
smart as a genius.
I can be funny as a comedian.
11 is my age, old enough to travel alone.
Old enough to have a phone.
I am Brooklyn’s best.
Smart enough to pass my test.
Zah’Ki Campbell
M.S. 113, 6th Grade
VIDEO GOD
I am video game freak because
I am an ultimate player.
Video games make me powerful.
I can destroy my opponents.
Weekend is playing time because during the week I do homework every night.
When I grow up, video games will still be my hobby.
Ethan Coley
M.S. 113, 6th Grade
SLOTH LIFE
I am calm as soft music.
My color is like black like outer space.
I sleep in a cave all day long.
In the morning, I wake up to see my family
and eat a little rabbit for breakfast.
Jawhara Joyner
M.S. 113, 6th Grade
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TIGER
Tiger in the jungle, hunting for meat
Moving slowly not to scare his prey,
making it easier to hunt.
Tigers like to sleep by the full moon,
dreaming of their families.
A tiger is free as a
King, powerful
As a president.
Jacob Harris Mercer
M.S. 113, 6th Grade
BLACK GIRL
I am a girl
Black long hair like an endless river
Hazel eyes like chestnuts that fall in the backyard
I am a girl
Armani
P.S./I.S. 180, 8th Grade
DRIBBLE
Dribble, dribble, dribble, up and down the court
I look at the clock and at the score
I realize we are down by two
And since I have the ball everyone tells me shoot
It keeps on swirling around the rim
And finally after five seconds goes in
I’m jumping up and down because we won the game
And everyone in the gym is chanting me name
Laquan Elliot
P.S./I.S. 180, 8th Grade
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I KNOW
I know a girl that sings
I know a girl that runs
I know a girl that dances
I know a boy that LOVES
Iyana Meachem
P.S./I.S. 180, 8th Grade
THE REPUBLIC OF ART
IN THE REPUBLIC OF ART,
There is much to do, much to see, and everything to explore,
Everyday filled with an adventure from paints to ideas, and ideas to art,
A world filled with color, from yellow streets to purple skies,
Every which way filled with a variety of colors that talk and speak to our emotions,
Blue says he’s always sad while red says she’s always mad,
From the colors black to white, from colors that are bright to those that are dark as
night,
IN THE REPUBLIC OF ART,
There are no boundaries,
It doesn’t matter if you color out of the lines, anything is beautiful,
Judgment lies in one’s own eyes, anything is art
There are no boundaries,
Trees can be purple, blue, or red,
The grass can be white, pink, or yellow
Everything can be anything
IN THE REPUBLIC OF ART,
Kids come in everyday to school with paper and pencil in hand,
As well as a paint brush just in case,
Art is embedded in every class they go to,
In math they draw 5 apples and 3 oranges to see how many fruits there are in all,
In history they learn about famous artists who shaped art the way it is,
In art they paint to express their deepest feelings,
Art can reflect upon life, and life can reflect upon art,
IN THE REPUBLIC OF ART,
This world is like no other,
Rain does not mean there is water,
As it will mean that there is paint,
Paint washes the earth with its many colors,
As people don’t stay in, they go out,
This is for many reasons,
To get new paints, or wash their clothes with color of choice,
Or, as children do, to dance along with the vivid and brilliant showers of paint,
This world is unlike any other, as no day can challenge any day in this artistic and
magnificent world
IN THE REPUBLIC OF ART,
With a douse of paint, and a little imagination,
Anything can be anything,
And everything can be everything.
Ugochinyere Agbaeze
East Side Middle School
STALINGRAD
The men of the Heer speak.
We thought this war would be a Blitzkrieg.
We can never have what we seek.
It has become a Rattenkrieg.
We fight in the sewers.
We fight in the streets.
Every day we are fewer,
Everyday in Germany women weep.
But this is greater than us,
And we shall triumph in our struggle.
Though we shall never see the bus,
That will take us home, oh our struggles, our troubles.
We shall fight, fight on, in the name of our nation,
We shall stay, stay in our position,
Our nation shall live on,
For we shall give our lives in our position, for our nation.
The men of the Red Army speak.
We came here thinking that this was hell.
That we would never again hear a sheep bleat.
This is ten times worse than hell.
It would be better to die.
But no. We fight not for ourselves, for our nation.
To the end, death will be defied.
None shall abandon his station.
Havoc on the enemy we shall wreak.
O glorious it is to fight for our nation.
Though the future may look bleak,
To take pride in one’s station.
We shall struggle till the end,
In this apocalyptic war,
For our families round the river bend,
For the families we left before.
The historians speak.
The strength of the partisans is tremendous,
Strength like steel in a present bleak,
Facing tragedy horrendous.
Did they know that they would win?
I think not.
Yet they raised their chins.
And were not afraid to get shot.
They knew their cause was greater than them.
They fought for their families and their nations.
They knew they would be sacrificed soon, like a hen.
Yet they remained at their stations.
We can only imagine what their lives were like, living and dying in the city,
The buildings, the sewers, the rubble.
Stained with the blood of a million men, the once pretty city.
Hanging on despite all their troubles.
One word. STALINGRAD.
Victor Garcia Bory
East Side Middle School
INSPIRED BY A SPOKEN POEM ON THE SUBWAY
Buses
Elevators
Subways
Cars,
Trains
One cough
One sneeze and
The coronavirus spreads
like a vine climbing up
a building.
But this
building is unlike
the everyday brick by brick
building, with glass windows
and air conditioners.
But the bricks are replaced
by humans, the glass replaced with
death,
and the air conditioners are the
human respiratory system.
This building is not made to
fall, this building was made to
stand strong and
be held by
each one’s
hand.
But we cannot do that anymore,
can we?
One touch can lead to the
building having more
glass windows.
And when the glass windows
make up the whole building,
anything can break it.
We made a choice
In one of the biggest countries
in the world, China,
to make underground markets.
To have the animals cut fresh in
the area
but they never checked.
They never checked the origin of the animals.
Or the health of the animals.
Or the state of the animals.
Or the diseases.
The smell of blood lingers
in the market
Masks cover the people’s faces.
Mixtures of water and intestines
flow through the floor like
the river flows through the ocean.
The blood carries particles
that are dangerous
That scream danger
That try to die there
but the urge to multiply
overrides the screams and tries.
Though as we check the stats,
The numbers keep on climbing,
The building is glassy, but people
Are holding up their guard.
The air conditioners fall to the ground
In despair, sputtering water
Like a person sputtering their last words.
Their lungs closing like a sandcastle
That the water has eroded and now
Causing it to fall.
Though the coronavirus has the lust to kill
The many thousands that have a skill
Many people yearn for tropical places, like Brazil.
But they cannot, as the thought of the looming illness generates the chills
And the product of this predator, is a room full of bodies painstakingly still.
And only one cough and sneeze can compose a scream, so shrill
The amount of cases, just like a Shepard tone, not a trill
And bodies, like sardines, packed together, oh so still
By soon the human factors
of the towering building
will cease
as long as this virus is alive,
there will be no peace.
COVID-19 is the name of this virus,
And the outcome of it is not the most desirous
But as the people are waiting for this monster to desist
The aspect of human life will forbear to exist.
And when this monster decides to go, it will not be missed.
Nora Cassetta
East Side Middle School
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REPUBLIC OF POPES
In the republic of popes,
A line of people scream-preach
They compete for the position of Head Pope
But we all know that election won’t be happening any time soon
Pope Kransis says he wants to go to the International Space Station
You get to vote! You want Space Pope? Vote for him!
In the republic of popes,
Popes yell at you about stuff
They tell you their opinions on virtually everything
From La La Land to the death row,
From poker to Lady Gaga’s Poker Face
Isn’t that lovely?
In the republic of popes,
You don’t have to be a bishop or a cardinal
You get to be the top banana, the hot shot
Automatic pope
In the republic of popes,
You have your own personal choir
They sing about everything you do
It’s quite beautiful
And then you get to preach to the choir
Wait, what? Only about 24% of America is Catholic?
Ah, shucks
Um—
Come to the Republic of Rabbis!
Sasha Hamel
East Side Middle School
SUN PANTOUM
The long thin beam shines steady
Warmth in golden yellow form.
Riches so sweet yet cannot be held,
Gone with the next cloud.
Warmth in golden yellow form.
A deceiving glow gives false hope,
Gone with the next cloud
Leaving no trace to show it had come.
A deceiving glow gives false hope,
The cold always comes back.
Leaving no trace to show it had come
Shadows run in the wind.
The cold always comes back.
Embrace it, or fear it.
Shadows run in the wind,
You stand alone.
Embrace it, or fear it.
Wind and rain collide,
You stand alone.
Whether you want it or not, it’s there.
Wind and rain collide,
Nature’s fury holds you close,
Whether you want it or not, it’s there.
No one can avoid it.
Nature’s fury holds you close,
Pray for the sun to come back.
No one can avoid it...
The long thin beam shines steady.
Sara Heller
East Side Middle School
THE TYRANT FEARS THE POET
The tyrant fears the poets
Fears their voices that carry
Fears their united song, a symphony
Ringing through war torn air.
They fear the sheer beauty
Of the romance and strife, the pain and glory
Of a pen scribbling furiously upon paper,
Ebony ink waltzing upon sheafs of pearl.
They fear
Hope.
The tyrant fears the poet
Fears a seed planted in the fertile soil,
Fears the abundant harvest of life.
They fear the future we write for ourselves,
Fear the roaring winds of change,
Which sing in tune with our tearful voices
Joy flowing from the cracks and imperfections
In our raucous words.
They fear the emotion and tears
They fear
Life.
The Tyrant fears the Poet
And its readers
Spurred to action by the rustle of a paper
Scrawling their liberation
Upon the ironclad chains confining them
Their souls bursting from the bonds
In a flurry of color and song.
They fear what they cannot control
Our freedom, our love, our words.
They fear
US.
The Tyrant fears the poet
They fear our honeyed lyrics
Our beliefs
Our beauty and pain.
They fear themselves
They fear their words
They fear their twisted sinuous lies.
They fear the truth and freedom of our world.
They fear
The future.
Lola Kravitz
East Side Middle School
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