Sky Wars

By: Saanvi Hitlamani


The night battles the day.

The day to the afternoon.

Then the winner is night.

A whole day is wars for the sky.

Sun and moon are the leaders.

They battle for the sky.

Two teams they have.

Emperors are the sun’s team.

Kings are the moon’s team.

Emperors bring fun.

Kings bring sleep.


Saanvi is a 6-year-old from Cupertino, California.

The 100 Children

By: Sameeksha Singh


There once was a couple who longed for some kids or a child

Though the wife knew that having them would be wild

She knew that they would play and fight

She was very right...


When the time came

Parents they became

The doctor counted them all

(Of course they weren't very tall)

"My, you have 100 CHILDREN!" the doctor said

While the mother put them all to bed


The parents were so very happy for they had more than one child

But the mother had been right—


Are very wild


Sameeksha is a 7-year-old from Seattle, Washington.

Sound of Silence

By: Gabriel Andino


There is a time at night

When the world has gone quiet

Not a single sound is made

And you are overwhelmed by it


The world is at rest

Yet your mind is awake

With nobody to talk to,

What is there to do until dawn breaks?


You find yourself in this situation

Time and time again

A mind and heart yearning for someone to talk to

In desperate need of a friend


This craving for interaction

Is no good for the soul

For with it comes sadness

And this sadness can take a heavy toll


Sitting in the darkness

Simply letting your thoughts roam

With nothing to hear but the sound of silence

This is when you feel most alone.


Gabriel is a 16-year-old student at The Woodlands College Park High School.

And Life Goes On

By: Kai Dranchak


These hallways are a battleground.

We smear on war paint with a side of toast.

In our backpacks we wedge weapons of self destruction in between our textbooks.

We have paper shields for protection,

Perforated graph paper to show our peers a different us.

An “us” that’s deemed safe from slurs and verbal punches.

They squash empathy and beauty; make sure you don’t show any.

Your body is a weapon but it will only ever destroy you.

Your life becomes a calendar,

Each day is a tick mark closer to your demise.


Become a body hanging from a newly blossomed tree.

Hear the bees hum under your limp limbs.

Become a body buried under the row of tulips.

Feel the roots entangle themselves around your tangled being.


There will be no more “goodmorning”s or “I love you”s.

Only goodbyes in the form of empty desks and unwritten papers.

They’ve got suicide notes in their back pockets,

But the teacher doesn’t care ‘cause that wasn’t the assignment.

The death threats and traveling whispers are swallowed with an “it happens”.


It happens.

A mother mourns her child’s death with prayers−  “Oh God, what did I do wrong?”,

A father can only bear to look at himself through the bottom of the glass,

And a sister grasps the concept of loss as her brother is nailed onto the cross,

But it happens.


Become the boy in the school speakers,

Your name echoes through empty hallways.

Become a hurricane of sorrow to people who never knew you,

For the people who abused you.

They could never mourn you between passing time

Because they were only ever just passing time,

Chipping away until there was nothing left to say.

Become a grain of salt in an hourglass,

Falling through the cracks.

The sand doesn’t sit at the bottom waiting for a restart.

The grains are gone and you will never get a second chance.


Kai wrote this poem as an 18-year-old in Plymouth, Minnesota.

Lavender Days

By: Eden Gately


With tongues blossoming

I feel your energy bursting through my nerves

I feel butterflies in me fluttering

and I sense your cold skin between our clothes


Take me in to fuse our souls

Let me warm your insides

Show me how to let your heart be my own

Let us share a voice

Take all I have and hold it close


With lavender pumping in our veins

I feel your shivers against my goosebumps

My butterflies have now turned into birds

and I open my eyes to meet yours


Take me into your universe

Let me be apart of it from the inside

Show me your favorite place, your favorite melody

Let my heart pump your lavender flood

Take all of my being and hold it forever


In the oneness of this moment

the birds in my stomach crash into one another

and I sense you through the peach fuzz

that keeps us two beings


Take me for an everlasting journey

Let me question how our worlds met

Show me how infinite our days are

Let my feet touch the ground besides yours

and take my hand as we walk to find the freshly blossomed lavender


Eden Gately currently attends the Pacific Northwest College of Art and is from Saratoga Springs, New York.

Onion or Hot Cocoa Mix

By: Perrin Jones


Ever feel that hunger as you walk through the door?

Doritos, Lay's Chips, Oreo Cookies,

maybe some vegan gluten free concoction if you're one of those people.

It burrows deep in your stomach,

demanding attention.


Ever feel that hunger last a few days?

No parents, no money, no power.

Where even one chip,

yes just one,

tastes like a delicacy.


Ever feel that hunger force you to insanity?

An onion or hot cocoa mix.

Two options on that cold empty shelf, a simple choice.

One outcome, hunger finally fulfilled.

Better not eat both though.


You'll starve.


Perrin Jones wrote this poem as a 17 year old in Saratoga Springs, New York.


By: Nimay Shankar


When the lights go out in the houses and the folks probably won’t leave,

big and little dragons come out, playing while the humans sleep.


They dance around, doing all sorts of things,

shooting fire and lightning and giant smoke rings.


They race across the sky, eating bats by the ton,

but that's not all; they're still not done.


They have claw-raking contests while demolishing trees,

nobody stands in the way, not even poisonous bees.


They laugh and talk and play all sorts of games,

including the ones the humans can't name.


When the sun comes up, the dragons go back,

for hard-earned rest and a peaceful nap.


Nimay is a 10 year old student at Blue Hills Elementary in Saratoga, California.

After, in the Farmhouse

By: Maja De Garay


I can hear him, convinced he is still here.

His footsteps echo the empty halls,

his voice fills rooms from across the house.

He lies just around each corner, just inside

the next room over.

He leaves lights on, a trail of bright windows

weave the house like vines.

Always ahead.

Trees sway outside windows,

mere observers of the cruelest game.

The footsteps fade to dull thumps on hardwood,

the voice no longer any competition for the wind against the shingles.

The roar of my own heartbeat,

rushing against my ears,

straining to fill the silent void.

They begin again.


Maja wrote this as a senior at Saratoga Springs High School in Saratoga Springs, New York.  She currently attends the College of Saint Rose in Albany, New York.

Keepers of the Moon

By: Cerissa DiValentino


We danced barefoot in the sand until moon rise,

Our toes touching and our fingers locked,

Our tongues playing against the heart of our cheeks.


We sang songs about our youth,

Talking of each other’s oldest scars and our ancient memories,

About what land the soles of our feet have touched,

About what skies our lungs have kissed.


We locked eyes,

A pool of mahogany brown mixing in a bowl of icy blue,

Diamonds sparkling in the liquid like roses dripping from a vine.


We admired the way the moon danced upon the water,

The glossy and sharp tips of the waves

Stabbing at the air’s fresh lungs,

Poking holes in its abdomen,

Cutting into its heart.


There were daffodils and the smell of fresh lilac in the clouds,

Showering us in scent so divine,

A scent so strong and soothing.


We rested in the palm of the earth,

In peace rather than at war,

Relaxing in the light of the moon rather than running.


We became night fairies,

Angels of the dark,

Keepers of the moon,

Owners of the stars.


Cerissa DiValentino is a 17 year old attending New Paltz High School in New Paltz, New York.

Luna, Earth's Moon

By: Evan Kwong


A sphere, so pale but so bright,

shining endlessly like a big star in the sky,

revolving around Earth like a mini-planet,

lighting up the night sky with its twinkling friends,

letting Sol have her rest,

emerging from the dark of the sky as the night sun.


Evan Kwong is a 10 year old attending Lafayette Elementary School in San Francisco, California.