By Davonna Rodriguez -- I feel I always need to be doing a million things Or else I'm falling behind Or not doing enough My rock, my beach, my bean Comes and grounds me. Your curly hair Dark brown eyes Rough yet soft hands Hold me, secure me. The world can be so cruel Not understanding of where I belong But I always know I belong with you, You and orange, brown, and blue.

By Kyle Ethan Valla -- Drip… Drip… Drip… The rain. It had made its way down to the fourth floor, near our homeroom. What was left was the natural element breaching our artificial world in the form of a waterfall flowing down a flight of stairs, with its perpetrator being the doors to the rooftop, opened slightly enough to allow the rainstorm outside to make its entrance. Looking down, observing my now soaked sneakers, the realization of what caused this slight flooding sl

By Sophia Leat -- Written with the intensity of the Russian dialect, interact with the uncertainty of a calf's first steps. What suit to follow remains unbeknownst to me, so I lean into the desire of feeling. I blink and blink and blink, though I cannot seem to rid my eyes of the remnants of my emergence — it has managed to remain unwavering ambiguity. My presence as uncomfortable and unavoidable as gastrointestinal issues — as a concave mirror my focal point remains undis

By Anisa Serrano -- Is freedom the pledge that was made long ago? Is it simply an ideal? Or is it a promise that was broken? Is freedom the feeling of looking out at the expansive ocean, realizing that the world is so big? Is freedom the savagery that they stripped away cultures from their country, yet historians will call them “heroes”? It could be anything! They said, You’re free here! It’s the act of speaking out, of making a choice, they said. We had this and nobody els

By Anisa Serrano -- For my Sister. Although we do not share a last name, we share a soul. Her name has always been Sister. Her name is and was never Melissa to me. I’ve never called her that (not seriously at least). She’s never been the older sister to tease and fight, she’s never been one to yell or scream. She’s just my sister. Yet nobody believes this fact. Not one soul who meets us believes that we are sisters. Nobody! It’s ridiculous, we do look a little different. Just

By Madison Nichols -- Chapter One Norma Anne Beaumont, age 27. I stared at the newspaper caption and into the eyes of the woman above them, wondering, as we all did, what had happened to her. She was cropped from a family photo, her blonde hair laid against her collarbones in perfect pin curls and she had a kind, familiar smile. Her dress was a beautiful shade of blue, though you couldn’t tell it from the black and white newspaper. I pulled my eyes away from her and out to t

By Albert Tanguilig -- INT. BUSAN HIGH RISE APARTMENT - NIGHT We hone in on a heavy oak door. Dull thuds echo. Thud It grows louder. More intense. Thud THUD Then... CRUNCH JINTAE splinters the door with his fireman's axe. He and his partner MINHO kick through it. Both are broad-shouldered, eyes filled with determination. They find themselves inside the threshold of a handsome high-rise apartment. They speak in Korean. JINTAE Take the next apartment over on the right! MINHO Y

By Wendy Mu -- In between the sea and the sand, today, was me. I gazed at the border of both letting the waves wash at my thoughts. It was a rocky, rough journey to get there. I’ve walked across tall hills, hard rock mounds, and mushy mud lands. The soft, peachy sand was a mark to a journey’s end long awaited – relief to a burden long held. A bellowing breeze blew at me sharing a rush of savory saltiness, like an tasty serving of garlic fries. The clear day’s sun massages my

By Wendy Mu -- Standing patiently On the table, in a proud form A bowl filled with harvests rich of light grown life Oranges, bananas, apples, grapes Once a seed, a sprout, a vine that drew from the earth, a masterpiece Of juice

By Miya Lee -- My head is going on a swim, Bumping through the emerald kelp. My ears are going on a ride, Wandering through the dull concrete. My knee is going on a jump, Bumbling through the muted sky. My eyes are going on a run, Staggering through the crimson heat. The journey continues on, and on, And on, Waves carving into limestone cliffs, Forming jungles upon jungles of sand Beneath an endless sea of tedium, Neatly wrapped up within one heaving Vessel Of green, black, b

By Miya Lee -- Cucumbers: crunchy, crisp treats Cut into its verdant flesh to find that it Contains clear, dewdrop shaped seeds.

By Jehan Z Bano -- Lack of greed and lack of fame I have liked this kind of frame Sublimity and self-restraint I have been trapped in a chip The heart that lives without a prick Life with no trip and trick Patterns of mind and clouds, and winds All that lies under the inner peace

By Nikole Donahue -- Invisibility is the easiest trick, which you can just snap your fingers and bring it into existence. ​It doesn’t take much. ​If you're touched and kissed by the sun, making you darker than a plum: Invisible. ​Still, there's a group of us today who get no love. No lust to be us. ​No, you can do it—popping on a handstand, thrust into backhand springs, front somersaults, trampolines. Applause! Applause! "Move to the front, please." ​All those with disabiliti

By Joaquin Chavez -- When I'm dead; do not mourn for me. At my funeral, do not wear black. Do not bring white flowers, do not have any bad blood for anyone who will be there. Wear as much color as you can. Remember to laugh at the good times we had, the tragedies you and I endured, everything we have done for each other, remember the little things about me like the little things I remember you for. I wish for a world where people will not have to fear. Put that on my gravest

By Joaquin Chavez -- “My name is Casey Lawrie. Take my hand. I am the Grim Reaper. One of many, to be exact, I am officially an Agent of Afterlife Services™, and my badge number is 9189. What I'm trying to say is, you're dead too. Hate to see the youth die young. At least I think you're young, maybe your skincare routine was great before you croaked. My job is to lead people through Limbo. I am not allowed to disclose what the afterlife is like, but I will say the lines are j

By Jehan zain Bano -- First time I saw you at the edge of the Golden gate bridge playing rocks in the ocean and moving her long fingers inside her blonde hair.She is hopping ,her hair loose in the wind ,smiling like a flutter,happy go lucky.The pain she is hiding within her is in the shadow of her smile took people in a nutshell.No pain no gain… A French muslim woman, Hana, 24 years old baking muffins ,taking out from hot oven flipping out in a tray putting mittens aside whil

By Jehan zain Bano -- When sun rays are sharp Protect the eyes Otherwise Losing the sight When sun comes Earth swings Joy is imminent Protect your eyes From sunlight Cover your head Wearing scarf Otherwise Protect your eyes From sunlight Cover your hands mm With Rubbermaid band Otherwise Protect your eyes From sunlight Removes your shoe Barefoot Otherwise Protect your eyes From sunlight Eating rice Break your fast Otherwise Protect your eyes From sunlight Walking around Talki

By Andres Bellot -- The wall was engraved with seven vertical lines, and the man who stood before it reached into his cloak and grabbed his dagger to scratch in an eighth. While the grey linen shirt and black wool pants he wore underneath the cloak were obscured, they were the best pieces of attire he had to tackle the upcoming cold. Putting his dagger back into the leather holster attached to his belt, he reached into his satchel and pulled out a small blue jagged crystal.

By Grace Sumabat Estrada -- Artistic and creative, your style is comfy chic Resolute in moving forward, you leave nothing incomplete Interested in growth, your path is bright and wide Athletic and persistent, your strength is from inside. Nearing a new stage with potential in the stars, All of us are proud of the young lady that you are!

By Grace Sumabat Estrada -- O my love is Amelia Rose, Who was newly born in March. O my love’s like a melody, That gently steals my heart. So fair you are, my darling girl Your tender smile commands With snowflake breath and rosebud lips Sweetly drifting into dreamland. As long as waves blanket the ocean, As long as stars brighten the night, My love for you will ne’er dim, My arms will be ready to hold you tight!