Elementia passion



By Grace Atkins

Dreams become actions impossible becomes possible it’s what I love to do becoming focused on my goals reaching those limits passing the bar once I get a new idea I go with it I don’t give up I would like to change the world if everyone was passionate there would be no failures

Excerpt from Breed: The Girl of Fire

By Sarah Ault

I was age twelve when I first drew her.

The Day the Woodpecker Landed on Me

By Isabel Nee

It was a scorchingly hot summer day in June when I walked up toward the house from the barn, heading toward the old cedar tree near the house. The tree had bird feeders hanging on it, and probably I was going to check the feeders to see how much seed they had in them.

Last Dance

By Kaitlyn O’Neal

There are only three rules for survival: no contact with meat, dairy, or humans. He’s already broken two of them.

Subject: Passion

By Jessie Hovis

Breathing in. The lungs expand, chest tight. The air catches in my throat. Breathing out. The air slithers out, my eyes going, facing the paper. It is blank, void of anything but a red line and blue lines. My mind is already at work. What is it going to be?

A Snapshot Love Story

By Libby Rorh

A girl sits at a table in front of a coffee shop, eyeing the charming boy lounging next to her. They observe one another as if their friends don’t exist, his eyes catching hers like a blue wave crashing on the beach. “Well, I’m not ordinary.”


By Anonymous

Allez means go, and I go. Allez is his title but he has no name. We work well together, he and I. Born of trying times, our relationship is as strong as the aluminum forged in it. Flying across stretches of hard-packed cement is what we do.

The Girl with the Sunset Eyes

By Allison Glaser

The girl with the sunset eyes and the boy with hands like glass.

He fell in love with her because she was so beautiful when she cried.

He hated to see her in tears, but when she cried, streaks of blue and orange and yellow and pink fell down her cheeks.

The Eyes of Mermaid Dreams

By Natasha Vyhovsky

On sad days, his eyes tell me stories – stories of pain, of struggle, of truth. They hold within them soft, grey clouds after April afternoon storms.

But the sky is bright without the sun, because it is never truly gone.

My Record Player and You

By Tasia Jewel

My record player- The warm sound of “Ultraviolence” circling through my room like nothing I’ve ever heard before. Connected with the music. 

        You look at me and you soon know my entire story, a story of sadness turned into bliss but only because of you- connected

Maybe This is Goodbye

By Sasha Baldwin

Quite a lot to say but such little time, We are all stuck in the crime of rhythm and rhyme. Forgive my silence, my pen is running dry. Don't know if I'll make it but I can promise to try.


By Sasha Baldwin

right now, I am a rough draft. I am left here to be looked back on and revised

The Melody

By Saadia Siddiqua

Standing alone, solo In the darkest shadows She would pour her forte emotion into piano whispers Although she is afraid now, her goal never blurs

Joy Still Left

By Ryan Mackey

A old man beyond salvation slumps on the ground and prepares for his end. He starts listing what he doesn’t have

anymore, He is beyond the point of coming back but he still has one joy. He has a motivation to keep going

Fire and Powder

By Robyn Peterson

“These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume.” -William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet 


By Richard Koulen

One star, a single shining star, Made us today, who we are. When rocks both smooth and coarse, Came together with force. When the galaxy was new, Something in space was a brew!

tidal waves

By Olivia Humphrey

Some of my hobbies include: writing and baking and looking into your brown eyes until I fear that I just might lose myself inside of them. A few of my favorite activities are: drawing and sewing and watching your chest rise and fall as if you are an ocean creating tidal waves inside my mind. My i


By Nicole Miller

Red and burning Heart jumping Pumping A whisper of excitement Concealed behind hesitant lips Waiting to slip Forget.

A smile etched From words suppressed. No one cares. Circling like smoke in your mind, The passions and thoughts you daren’t speak.

One Step Closer

By Molly Langdon

It burns It burns deep inside every drop that runs down

your back as you ignore the pain correction after correction being told you aren’t good enough for it

it comes naturally is what they say at least why? some outsider may ask Why the time and pain

Coffee Cups

By Maya Bluitt

I'm not sure if the glass is half empty or half full.  Coffee shops leave me homesick for 8 minute drives to your cul-de-sac, to your arms; you're always busy.  And although refills and ring stains hold a pointer finger to pursed lips, I can't convince myself the same when I tell you not to worry

Hope Never Fades

By Mason Herrington

I am a strong young man exhausted from my ways I’ve been in eleven facilities but nothing ever seemed to change Until one day I felt his grace and heard it say Come to me my child and I will take it all away…

Leap of Faith

By Mary Rueschoff

Twirling Twirling-Twirling Along with the shhing of the pointe shoe on the stage The smooth, sweet music playing to her sharp moves.

Spinning like a little girl in the rain Making it look so easy, but yet so hard The precise frappe out of the spin Like a prancing reindeer in the snow.

No Graphite

By Lindsay Luchinsky

From his lips To the paper, To the teacher, To the air, To my mind that will not recall.

Tickled Truffle

By Lindsay Luchinsky

A thought may amble a bit ‘till it trips to a halt,             ‘till it ticks up a halt and a half. Slams to a door and whatever blue-black residue flirts with the hinges,             flirts with the hinges: A hiccup frame for the ghost words you never said because you slammed its door. Naked if


By Lindsay Luchinsky

This curving,
cynical back behind me, it’s:
A warm bench,
A warm chestnut bench,

A warm chestnut.  A cold foreboding pew.
Luster here has now turned bland:
contaminated with waltzing dust and
a reek of pages
not turned for a decade.

Balcony Wishes

By Lauren Blood

The sky was an abyss of gloom, As the trees billowed in the breath of the wind. The stars sang secrets to the moon, Above a castle holding lovers within. An age-old monarch was outraged by his daughter’s betrayal, For he had found a young thief attracted by her alluring portrayal.


By Kayla Wiltfong

It is a wall. It is stiff, blank. Unmoving.  It guards the paradise  That she knows belongs there.

It is a stone Waiting for her, the sculptor,  To make it mean something.

Sometimes it glows with urgency. Other times it is dull, Craving the contact of a human hand.

Signs of Life

By Julia Wakefield

The form of letters slop and curve on a page like a human body.  White paper, bare skin, The line of a belt below a belly button: the line of a notebook just below a sentence. 

It Starts With Me

By Hannah Greer

The insistent decision that The world is beyond repair because No longer will Human nature fix these things. Negativity and pessimism Invade the land of Enthusiasm and assurance. The problems remain Because People make choices, Will remain idyll, And negative changes Grow into new dynamics Our wo

Finding Passion

By Hailey DeWolfe

Hello?  I am looking, Through windows and doors, Looking at trees and between the shores  For that spark. The little thing that ignites souls ablaze Propels emotion to heights unknown  Cultivates thoughts hidden.