elementia issue 16
Writing
Breaking Free
By Juliette PikeWe look at a distant light
With hope for self discovery
fear of catastrophe,
and self-inflicted wounds
We dig through the mountain
in order to escape
Eclipsing,
suffocating our souls
April 20th
By Kaitlin Green9:45. My heart begins to race. I unconsciously cross my legs on top of one another with my foot anxiously bouncing up and down, my leggings making a soft swishing sound from the friction of them rubbing together. My teacher drones on and on and on about poetry. Normally, I’d be interested.
Sueño, America (I Dream, America)
By Janeth ReyesI was born at the wrong place
At the wrong time
Both my parents seeking a better life
For my sister and I
To find comfort across the border
Where movie stars and country folk
Looked deceivingly happy
Slowly becoming part time parents
Pay Attention
By MJ FergusonPay attention to the road.
The soft mantra fills my head as the dark pouring rain pelts the windshield. The wipers beat relentlessly, expelling as much water as they can while more continues to fall.
Pay attention to the road.
Like Spearmint and Snow (no blues)
By Isabelle ShachtmanWhy do they keep praying
If nothing has changed
Sleeping under dark clouds
Thankful for things
Like spearmint and snow
Senses like
A rotting apple
An eyeball
Decaying
Out of socket
I can see clearly now
Call Me Stephanie
By Ayiana UhdeHi my name is Ayiana
Once upon a time,
I was a young girl
Seeing the world through rose colored glasses
my mother sobbed to herself at the kitchen table
Wondering why
Crying tears that would not relinquish
depressed feelings
What's in a Name?
By Vic KepnerMadeline.
The first name I was ever given
A symbol of my mother’s overbearing need to go her way or no way
Her way had no meaning
It was simply a name she thought was pretty
And pretty was more important than memorializing my dad’s time in the Army
Fathers are for Freedom
By Gillian KnaebelIt’s hard to understand what
to feel when his words say
he loves me but the tone of
his voice says the only thing
he cares about is himself.
Scars stain his back
and my wrists
but the only real scars are
the ones on our hearts.
The War Between Kids and Adults
By Ian O’BrienAs our war rages on, I’m caught in a crossfire.
One side shrieks its anthem of misguided hope.
The other, facing reality’s certain dread head on.
While I, a teenager caught in the midst of battle, seek refuge.
I Was a Kid
By Annie BarryI was sitting in my private school, around age 8
The religion teacher said, everyone sit in a circle
Don’t speak
Close your eyes
Raise your hand when you hear God speaking to you
One by one each child raised their hand
I sat
Thinking
heavy named girl
By Kahill Perkinsheavy named girl,
Your value is that of the anchor tied to your feet, the depth of your mother’s tongue when she looked upon you,
saw your grandmother’s eyes in your soft brown face and
pulled from history the consonants and long vowels that may jangle around in her apron
honey
By Kahill PerkinsI have so many secrets to tell you through soft poems and open mouthed kisses on rosy flushed cheeks of best friends turned lovers and onto mothers and peaches bought from roadside shacks on small town access roads; toothy grins slyly hanging onto our faces —
This Generation
By Ada HellerI sit
in a green plastic booth
Sandwiched between a purple table
and a streaky orange wall
I keep my fingers squished into my ears
while I watch a librarian chase a girl my age around
She has a purple skateboard in one hand
Counting Calories
By Neha Sridhar(A palindrome poem meant to be read top to bottom,and then bottom to top)