Young Writers and Artists Space

We welcome poems, stories,  drawings, graphics, cartoons, extracts from your novel. Anything at all!

We are looking for work from under 16’s  for this page. Please send to

Mums and Dads, Aunties, Uncles,  brothers,  sisters, teachers, youth workers please get in touch if you have creative children or young people in your lives. WE CAN FEATURE THEIR WORK HERE. HOWEVER IT MUST BE THEIR WORK. IF THEY CAN’T WRITE YOU CAN TRANSCRIBE.


a living miracle

old man
a living miracle
the wrinkles spanning miles across the landscape of his face
ocean eyes so deep that the sunlight reflects off every wave
the corners of his mouth strong enough to lift
decades of pain off weary hearts
a rainbow in the midst of a storm
clouds crying tears of despair
a choir of human and ambulance wails
coursing through the veins of the prisons
we call hospitals
souls suffering
and suffering
a how are you?
flows out of his lips
his arms outstretched
across the hospital counter
oblivious to the trillions of germs
crawling up his hairs yelling
save me! save me!
the typical i’m fine, what about you?
claws its way from my throat and out my lips
those simple words break him
his car stranded in the middle of the endless desert named suffering
his wife is
paralyzed from waist down
revoked of her rights from the constitution of human life
forced to attend therapy on the weekends
he shifts his collared shirt to expose
a scar reaching from his collarbone to chest
if i could read minds
a graffiti of scars would scatter the canvas of his brain

a car rammed into his soul as he rode his bike
his sole method of transportation that day
the driver a drunk cop on duty
old man
a living miracle
wearing a smile despite it all
and thus
the brightest stars can only be so radiant
because they understand how it feels to be in utter darkness
trapped in the isolation of space

jenny ham

This was written after an experience of volunteering in hospital

Wildlife poems from children in Indonesia  sent in by English teacher Maria Alaguru

Sekolah Mutiara Nusantara, Bandung – Indonesia


My Baby Chinchilla

     by Naygella Lau, 12, 7th Grade

        Jumping high like a bunny,

        You roll like a penny,

        Squeaking like a mouse in a tunnel,

        Don’t you love a big cuddle?


         A hybrid between Bugs Bunny and Mickey Mouse,

         Your cage is a giant house,

         Fluffy like cotton candy,

         Your teeth looks cheery.

         Bright like  sunshine and dark like moonlight,

         You lie asleep at night,

         And by day run like the wind,

         Alongside your kind.   

Blue Tongued Skink
by Raphael Gerrard Tay, 12,  7th Grade

Cunning as any snake

Yet so shy and gentle

Sporting a sharp face

And a tongue blue as venom

Slithering amongst the trees

Silent as a mouse

Shying away from all threats

Hidden in the forest

Never reveal your disguise

And no one will know your secret

Stay hidden on the tree floor

Silent  blue tongued skink


King Cobra

by Nelson Oliver Witjaksono, 13, 7th Grade


A ferocious predator with venom that can be a killer

your fangs are of a vampire’s, one menacing bite would be punishing 

a powerful king, an apex animal, like a Tyrannosaurus Rex that likes to flex

King Cobra, your strength is like a crusher, trained for strength like the marines

you are so agile, a silent, slithering stalker, like a speeding bullet, not quite so fragile  

you enjoy a slow, solitary life, gathering for yourself, like a lone wolf,

your size is monstrous,  one would think it preposterous

  as you hunt down your meal knowing it’s a goner

your eyes look evil when you stare at your prey

coiling back like a spring before you strike, 

a Solo hunter, marking your territory,

and shoot forwards like an arrow,

there is no escaping you 

==== King Cobra ====






My Little Teacup Pomeranian

                    Written by: Chelsea Natalie Chandra, 13, 7th Grade

Running around and circling like a ball,   

Little Napoleon barking in the mall,

You’re so tiny you fit in a teacup,

Making us squeal “that’s a cute pup”

You bark loudly and steal the crowd,

With a fluffy, soft fur that is like a cloud,

Kids around you make you feel happy,

As if  you have just received candy,

You give hugs, cuddles, and kisses,

And eat so many delicious dishes,

So popular you were owned by blue blood 

But all I know is that you are my mutt!




If life was a time bomb
Which your actions detonate
If you are good, you can stay
If not, it’s your fate.

People will live and die
Some you cannot forget
To forget them is a sin
So believe the reality you’ve just met.

The good won’t want you to cry for them
The bad might want you to die for them
For they aren’t God, they can’t dictate your action
Believe in who you are, add achievements to your collection

Leanne Moras


A Gentle Mind

Gentle is something
The mind can be
Yet much stronger
Than the body

Our legs can kneel
And our hands can sway
Yet untouched
The mind will stay

It can break down a building
With a stare
Yet can be tempted to
A fun world fair

This is what
A mind can be
Don’t let it rust
Let it be free

Leanne Moras


The Color Blue

The color blue,
All the different shades and tones
From light to dark
Blue is a cloudless summer sky when the sun is out,
Blue is all the bodies of water –
The ocean and waves, lakes, and pools
Blue is a color in a crayon box
Making the rainbow complete
Blue is sadness,
The tears rolling down a person’s cheek,
The loneliness that fills the room
The bruises and pain
Blue is coldness
Distant and icey,
But blue is comfort
A blanket swaddling a newborn baby
Blue is loyalty,
Blue is honesty
Blue is a true friend

Georgia Peach, North West Atlanta




7th Grade student at Ecole Mondiale World School in Mumbai, India.

Someone we all love
Someone who is sweeter than a dove
Avva, I’ll tell you how much you mean to me
For my love is taller than the tallest tree
You spoil me with many sweets
Even more than I can eat
You shower me with so much love
My world feels like a cosy cove
Every night you tell me a story
And listen to mine surely
You don’t mind anything I do
As long as I clean up too
When I am with you I feel safe and sound
For in your pure love I am drowned
I just want to thank you for all you’ve done
Being with you is great fun
I am blessed because you are the best
– Saanika Kote, aged 9, Bengaluru, India









The Bird


There was a little bird, It sat without a word, Perched upon a tree, Quiet as could be. 

“Sing with us, please!” other birds would cry, But it kept silent, as days went by. “You don’t know how to sing!” they assumed and they mocked. The bird gave no answer, so they laughed and they talked. 

“Fly with us, please!” other birds would shout, Still in its nest, it wouldn’t go out. “You don’t know how to fly!” they exclaimed in disgust. “Then why are you a bird, if you aren’t like us? 

One day, the bird flew up in the air, No one watching, the world unaware, Landed on a tree with dangerous pricks, The sharpest thorn, did the bird strive to pick. 

A beautiful sound, there was nothing quite like it, Rang through the forest, the creatures astounded. They gathered around, as the cry of pain ceased, With wings ripped apart the bird hung in a tree. 


Celina Chen, 15




There is a girl I knew, I called her my best friend.

There for her til the end, My love for her is true. 

I don’t know what to do, Or how to feel and act,

For we don’t interact, As much as I want to. 

I miss those sunny days, When we would laugh and smile.

We’d sit and talk awhile, At stars we would both gaze. 

But now that summer’s gone,

She’s disappeared as well, With stories left to tell,

How shall I carry on? 


Celina Chen, 15




i am a sunflower facing the sun

trying to look on the bright side

but do not be fooled by the happy yellow petals

for if you pluck them off you are left

with a dreary dark center 


Celina Chen, 15


Ode to Isolation 


Cold and silent.

I sit in the dark.

I wait for something to happen.

Maybe someday

I’ll get outside

And enjoy the fresh air.

Days and nights, days and nights.

Gray filled room.

Kept from stress.

I sit there. 

I don’t do work.

Because my mental health is flimsy.

I hide in my closet.

Dark as can be.

Nobody can hurt me,

Scare me,

Or make me cry.

I am content.

There is nothing.

A nothing filled room.

Under my blanket,

I am there.

Warm and comfy.


Could anybody; 

Anybody, anywhere

Get me out of my small, 


And dark world?

I say no.

Too many noises.

Too many outside.

I like to shut my doors,

And  unwind with music,

To drowned out the noise

Inside  my brain.

People tell me

“The real world better”.

But what is better

Than what I have?

A nothing filled room.

A cold,




Nothing filled room. 

I am not mistaken one.

I am content.

I sit in the dark.

Cold and silent.


Mandy Renner, aged 11


Poetry on community from Philip Rogers Elementary School, Chicago, USA. 
Sent in by Joris Soeding , 7th/8th grade Social Studies Teacher.


In communities happiness rings,

sadness hides underneath,

living, dying 

sirens ringing,

smell of food.

Families brimming with life

until the day, their time has come

out of the world elsewhere.

Sadness can overpower

leaving people without power 

until the day they give up 

let the darkness flow over them and take over.

Then comes the end to a day.

Goodbye to all.


Natalia Gatti

7th Grade



life is like a knife 

filled with lies

it has a start

and an end

but you can’t contend

your misery

in the mystery of life


if you wanna thrive in life

you got to arrive and

surprise all

and show them your alive


Juan Saenz

7th Grade


The World of Creativity

to all the creative artists 

it’s not complicated

to get motivated

they might get hated but

they also get appreciated

they might get frustrated

then get underestimated.

Artists are creative and cool

many people may think they’re fools.

Yeah creative artists are the best

mostly when they don’t get rest

the power of art


Natalie Zacarias-Martinez

7th Grade


We Are Free

We have liberty

We can live as a family

We don’t have misery

We can live happily

At night the stars shine so glittery 

We may become friends rapidly 

If you are feeling down go to trickery 

The fields are so beautifully grown 

Here we are very well-known

We all have a talent we have shown 

We are never alone 

Here we are all in the same zone 

We always have a tone


Diana Sandoval

7th Grade



The Truth

Graffiti on the walls,

trash on the floor,

violence in the air,

stories of death everywhere.


Killers walk around

corrupt cops they may be,

all around the city.


Some people may cry

for those who have died,

there may be safety nowhere

but there’s cops everywhere.


Some may be judged for height and for skin,

or for brains or bones.


Some kill, some die

some people have nowhere to hide.

sleeping on the street,

sleeping in danger, as I tell the truth.


Dexter Dang

7th Grade



Only Want To Go Home


depression is a permanent scar


but we should embrace who we are


the silence is what takes us


because we cannot bare to discuss


when life is in black and white


we begin to hold on to the little bits of light


to protect us from our self


because I’m scared of myself 


we don’t feel a thing


so we begin to cling


to those who give us hope


thinking they’ll help us cope


we are the angels at the roam


who only want to go home


Jordan Wickramasekera

7th Grade







Smelling all the food

Hearing the diverse languages

Walking down the streets

Seeing all the homeless

Wishing I could help

But I have no money

Hearing them pray

But I feel so far away

Nothing I can do will help.


Graffiti on the walls

I try to paint them off

But everything still feels so far away

Nothing still feels the same

Nothing will help me put those thoughts away.


Hanging out with friends

Talking and chatting

Laughing away into the night

They start to leave

I try to go with them

But my feet are so cold and numb

Nothing I can do will he me get there

I give up trying and do nothing 

Let the world take me away into the black void that fills my body.


Michael Samson

7th Grade





It can be so drastic; yet so small.

It can be so small; yet so hurtful or fruitful.

Change can be seasons that come and go.

Nothing stays the same.

But without change there’s no 

future to look forward to.

Change can make us cry.

Change can make us laugh.

Change is life.

Change is death.

Change can be the best.

Change can be the worst.

It all depends how you decide to take it.


Estefania Camarillo

7th Grade





Walking home as I question myself 

What is home?

When we’re kids, we play in the fields

The sun shining

A big grin on the face

Not realizing the lies.

Now walking home

With the rain hitting my face

Surrounded by disgust

What happened?

The sun shines

A ray of hope

If only I wish things could be the same.


Time runs by

As quick as light

Wishing I could make a change

But I can’t everyone deranged

If only someone would hear me screaming


If only a single whisper could make a change.


Noor Khan

7th Grade


My Block



Although my block is not that long 

When we come together we stand strong

With all the diversity and different race

We are lucky to live in the same place

With all the different culture and foods 

Sometimes it ends in feuds


Hearing all the cries and screams 

From little kids to even old men

While their wives would yell and scold 

But when they become deceased

There souls become released


Mariam Khan

7th Grade








What a game of chess!

No need to confess.

It was a fair game after all.

Time to recall,

What I did wrong

Does this bishop belong?

Everyone congratulates me even though I didn’t win.

My frown forms into a grin.


I drop my grocery bags as I walk across the street.

Someone runs up behind me and he’s pretty sweet.

He helps me with my bags.

We zig and zag,

Through the street

It’s like he helped me cheat!

We say our goodbyes.

It was a surprise.

People are so genial and kindhearted.

I might have been outsmarted,

By the kindness of others.


Ayla Arnautovic

7th Grade




I see masks all around

Some laugh, some smile

Some hide a frown


I see masks left and right

They try to keep what’s deep inside


Some last for a while

While others can’t keep a smile

They break without a sound

Or they break in a crowd


We look for those that we can trust

So our masks can finally bust

’Cause no one wants to wear them

But no one can discard them


The masks can destroy our heart 

Or protect us from breaking apart


I wear one of these in sad times

To keep back my true feelings


I often try to keep it sound

Till my friend can break it down 


Our friends can be great support 

To recognize my feelings deep down


No matter strong our masks may be

A good friend will make you free


Lige Fletter

7th Grade



A Boy of Many Colors


I am a boy of many colors,

suppressed under a mask of my community with little hue,

the cracks of the mask leak little emotion,


I’m a bug in a bottle, with little scenery to view,

with a mask expressing only laughter and joy,

while inside there is sadness and coy,

with a hint of anger too,


But do not fear me, for I do not show


I am a boy of many opinions

Some splendid some agreeable

Some vile and some wicked


There’s a lot of me you don’t know, with little you will never find out,

because of a mindset of an endless puzzle


I am a boy of many colors,

I love those who are bright and dark

those who are diverse like wine stains on a white dress

And those who blend in like white paint on a blank canvas


Alex Baldauf

7th Grade


Alternate Realities


Everybody says

you need to face reality

but I live in alternate realities


At school I’m

encouraged at originality

but after that home alternates

reality because they don’t encourage

originality I become a normality


My community alternates my

personality making me thoughtful 

to all alternate realities 


Sahir Rahman

7th Grade


Big Home


Our community is like a big home

There are good and bad, 

but all belong.

There are of all types,

people who say yes and people who say no,

the ones who think and the ones that say,

the ones that go and the ones that stay

Some may change the way you think 

depending on it, it could be good, it could be bad.

It will always be your choice.

And no matter what,

all who belong,

will be part of our big home.


Lucy Garcia-Juan

7th Grade


What I Can Be


I can’t be a doctor

I’m not smart and can’t even take care of myself

I can’t be a pilot

I’m scared of heights and responsibility 

I can’t be a teacher

I’m not patient and still learning 


What I can be though

is the person who’s there when you need to talk

I can be the person to go to 7/11 with even if I have no money

I can be the person to rant and vent with even if I’m busy 

I can be the person to play fight with even if I’m bruised and sore

I can just be your friend in this crazy stupid world


Even if I feel broken, confused, afraid, tired, crazy

I’ll still be there

Just wait and see 

I’ll get up for you and me

Just wait and see


Grace Dapat

8th Grade


Living on Both Realms

I can never tell you too less or too little

About my reflected past

Two kingdoms battling different orders

Do this here, don’t do this over there

In this nation it’s essential to eat this

In this domain we never eat that

Living in reverse worlds break away who I am

Being ordered to only favor the more religious one

Being told by others about how the nation I cherish so much holds a beast

They tell me that the beast has a mouth full of fangs with a thorny red dahlia crown

I wish I was just in an isolated kingdom

One where I don’t have to hate the other

One where the streets are built off of emerald

But these nations that I’m forced to “hold close to my heart”

They once hated, despised, held grudges, and reviled each other

I made a commitment that once I grow up,

I’ll make my own kingdom

This kingdom will have citizens that won’t feel my torn past

No tales about a beast, no war, and no dummy laws

Only love, affection, and fondness

If my kingdom does depart into two one day

I promise there will be no war

Only respect and acceptance.

I do forgive them

I’m way over the war that let my spirit bleed without me knowing

All I gotta say is that they made me like this

Yes. A phoenix who turned into grey ashes

Who will one day be born to guide others into only light and not darkness.


Mikko Barrios

8th Grade


Not Enough

 Not enough police

Not enough protection

Not enough peace in our communities

Not enough happy days

Not enough love to spread around

Not enough homes for everyone

Not enough for everyone to enjoy


In our generation,

many people are suffering because they don’t have everything like the others

many people can fix that 

but they don’t 

They think it’s NOT ENOUGH to give so they don’t

give at all

In my opinion,

I think it doesn’t matter if it’s not enough 

I think people want something rather than nothing

but the one thing is that 



Isabel Soto

8th Grade



How Am I Shaped By My Community


 Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

I ask myself this,

When I’m caught up in this world.

Full of magic,

Wonder and most of all,



I wish it was real,

The world I would like to live in.

Imagine being in a castle,

in Northern Ireland,

Becoming a witch or wizard is only a dream.


Honestly, some would say it’s childish,

I disagree.

It’s a way to cope,

with the demons who live inside me.


They scream like Mandrakes,

Are dark like Dementors,

Keep me awake like Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named laughter,

They move in the shadows like Peeves,

Playing tricks on me.


Sometimes the tricks don’t get me,

They remind me of Fred and George, 

Other times they’re clever like Hermione.


The world is magical,

in a wondrous way.

It’s not childish,

It’s my way.


Willa Dixon

8th Grade



A Day in The Life



I can smell your cooking

Chiles Rellenos

stuffed peppers

Home sweet home

My nose is in heaven


Dystopian times

From time to time I can hear all these sirens cry

Maybe too often.

Rogers Park,

Drive-by shooting

I remember one time

Cars screeching

My friends and I were just hoopin’

My own home,

Blue and red off the wall

Keeping me awake

But now it’s normal for all

My community,

Keep me alive

Every day I hear about a tragic demise

But you help me grow

I’ve gained the courage

I am now on my own.


Jason Torres

8th Grade



How Am I a Part of My Community


Mindless chatter echo in the hall

Laughing about the latest joke

Lies and stealing loom above like a cloud

Happiness and dancing

To hide the anger

To hide the depression


Singing on the phone

To cover the silence

Happy days 

Broken days 

Watching from the sidelines 

Trying to bring smiles and laughs 


Empty words

Happy smiles

Tired Eyes

Broken minds

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah I’m fine”

“Is everything okay?”


Lies are surrounding happiness

Dancing, singing, smiles

To hide the stress and broken soul


Amanda Blakemore

8th Grade



Little Trouble Makers



Mama’s gone to work,

We are left home alone.

Mama thinks we’re little angels

only when she’s home.

Angels we may look

but opposite we are.

My brother and I are little trouble makers,

playing video games all day long.


Matthew Samson

8th Grade


My Community


In the morning I leave the house.

Little children look at my ankles

Then stare up at me as their parent says, “hello.”

Most early mornings I walk

Through the ones that mommy says

Only read the Old Testament.

In my eyes all people are equal.

But the little ones are judgy.

One threw a rock at mommy’s car.


Walk a little further and I feel more at home.

These people may not look like me

They feel familiar.

All these people smile and wave at me,

They know my name.

Walk home and no one cares anymore

My family is the one on the block with a Christmas tree.


Ava Piemontese

8th Grade






My Broken Family



I just want it all to be over~

the yelling, the fights, and then silence.

The way my dad keeps quiet because he’s the youngest.


Don’t know if I can mention “this” name in front of “that” aunt. 

Me and my cousins used to live together,

but now it’s like they moved on without us.


How we were always the ones affected by the family matters. 

How my cousins from both sides used to be friends 

That’s how close we



How much I respected them and wished to be like them. 

Now I only meet them at weddings and our conversations are just greetings


All I ask now…


Actually I don’t even know.

Do I move on or just sit there waiting for them to make the first move. 


I think I’ll choose the first option. 

I will focus on making the closest people around me proud.


I guess I’ll just think about the memories

and yeah, “those happy times” when I miss them…


Salwa Majeed

8th Grade





When I walk into my school and I see the parents 

leaving their kids with worried faces

I wonder

how are they feeling?

When I see teachers worrying about what they’re going to teach today

I wonder 

how are they feeling?

When I see other students laughing and talking with their friends 

I wonder 

how are they feeling?

I’m proud to see that I at least see some sort of difference only to see those

smarter than me 

more talented with me

happier than me

more than me

how am I feeling?

Is feeling just generated by our minds or is it what we want

I don’t know

how is everyone around me feeling?


Victor Chavez

8th Grade





Community Poem



My neighborhood is very enthusiastic.

Loving each other, caring for each other, and helping each other.

When seeing the people you can see their different characteristics.

The neighborhood will always remind you of your mother.


When seeing this wonderful place, you imagine accomplishing your dream.

People around you helping you along the way.

When the neighbors see you they always seem to see you gleam.

When you finish your dreams, it’s the month of May.


Neighbors giving you free things,

You can get very happy with this.

They always treat you as if you were kings.

But, you usually hear things that cling.


When the days are bad; rain usually falls.

Sitting inside waiting for the rain to stop.

In the meantime I picked up calls.

When the rain was over, I saw a cop.


The cop was admiring the neighborhood.

He seemed to be good.

This neighborhood will give you a big smile.

The smile is big as a mile.


Yasir Mohammed

8th Grade



Black, White, and Grey


I’m not 100% white

I’m not 100% black

My dad is Jamaican and Barbadian

My mom is an Irish redhead

Saying mixed is like a potion and spell waiting to be cast

Mixed with a sprinkle of black and sprinkles of white


Can’t say I’m black because I’ll feel like I’m rejecting my ancestry

Can’t say I’m white because my skin tells a different story

Can’t say words that were used during dark times because I’ll offended myself

Can’t say I’m black, can’t say I’m white


If you mix black and white, you will get grey

Not too dark, not too light 

Just right

Imperfect but perfect

I’m grey

Lack the features to call me white

Disregard the features that make me black


Grey. Yeah, grey. That’s what I am

Black, White, and Grey


Kaitlyn Smith

8th Grade



Wintry Day


A peaceful evening

feelings of joy

and cheerfulness aplenty

on this nice wintry day

As far as you can see

is clean, untouched,

undisturbed snow


Snow, a beautiful sight.

The children come running

They create snowmen

and snow angels litter the area.

A naive child is frolicking around,

and now he’s being pelted with snowballs

Wait what?

Ouch, poor kid.


Moving along now.

A group of four start making a snowman

They stand accomplished

with their shovels still in their hands

Now they’re beating it to a pulp…

Wow…great, wonderful.


What’s wrong with these kids?

Don’t they know the meaning of joy?!

Do they really need this?

They have such gleeful faces

at this organized destruction…

They’re so strange.

Actually a little crazy.

I wonder why…

but I guess I’ll never know.


Josrich Viernes

8th Grade


The CTA Train



When I had left for vacation

The train had passed by

Across the street

And I hadn’t thought much of it

Until I had gotten back


We got there and during the first night 

I couldn’t fall asleep

While thinking about why

I had a sudden realization

That something was missing


From there I realized a pattern

I couldn’t fall asleep

As easily as at home

And this continued until the journey back


We got a cab

And then I heard it

The thing that had been missing

The CTA train


When we finally got home

I plopped in bed

And fell asleep to the sound

Of the CTA train


Diego Ramirez

8th Grade



When Someone Says They Live in Chicago but They Really Live in Winnetka

Driving down a quiet street

Houses with more room than you would ever need

Tailored yards and picket fences

So different from the noise

So different from the traffic

So different from the life of Chicago


You stop at a big house

You try to suppress a grin

You run from the car to the arms of your everlasting friends

Their arms unmoving and faithful

You start to go inside the house

You pass just through the threshold

Into another world


You go into a house of height

With walls stretched out six feet tall

Crown molding and open floor plans

So different from the noise

So different from the traffic

So different from the life of Chicago


You and our friends decide to go explore

You follow a road to the creek a block off

Déjà vu of a trip once taken before, in the noise and traffic

You take a journey through jungle and weeds

Watching for the pythons and poison ivy and spiders sure to dwell in these parts

You get scared and you and your friends flee

With their life and a new story to tell


You go back home to the noise

You go back home to the traffic

You go back home to your life in Chicago

So different and similar to the whirlwind of adventure you have in Winnetka


Paige Meegan

8th Grade




The Poet


He was beautiful,

and I was not.

He thought I was 

and so he placed me in that big heart of his.

Made room for me.

He likes to write about what he loves

I don’t know why he wrote about me.

He was intelligent

I was not.

He thought I was beautiful.

I knew I wasn’t.

So I froze him out.

“I’m sorry” was what I was supposed to say

Silence was what I gave.

One less friend

all because

He was beautiful

and I was not.


Kya Milligan

8th Grade


City Weather


When I left Chicago for Pakistan
I noticed something different
Maybe it was the heat
Or was it the people?

What was I feeling?
I became exasperated
The dry sun hit me
in waves of heat

Then came the time 
to travel back
On the plane
And over the Atlantic

And as I left the airport
It hit me
The chilling sensation
of cold and winter

And the change
It ran and hid
for I did not feel it
And it bothered me longer


Hanzila Khan

8th Grade



One in Two

Wheels screeching against the tracks

Ta, ta, ta, ta, ta

Church bells gonging in the distance

Gong, gong, gong, gong, gong

Everywhere I turn, tan and black

Everywhere I turn, a homeless man

Everywhere I turn, colors spread on walls

Everywhere I turn, stores close

A lady I am told, to be and to act

To cook

To clean

To knit

To embroider

To pray   

To behave


Kids laughing in the park

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha

Cars vrooming in the street

Vroom, vroom, vroom, vroom

Everywhere I turn, diversity

Everywhere I turn, children play

Everywhere I turn, love

Everywhere I turn, a story to be told

A student I am told, to be and to act

To get straight A’s

To get into a good high school

To finish assignments

To help others

To respect others

To behave


Aliyah Aguilar

8th Grade




Loudness and craziness 

laughter and cries 

hand holding

feet stomping 

hearts pumping 

tears shedding.

This is what you 

can find in my family 

pushing and shoring 

hugs and kisses 

shoulders to cry on 

pointed fingers.

This is what you 

can find in my family 

no matter how far or 

how mad we get 

love and nothing but

love is what powers

my family.


Luna Uribe

8th Grade


Special Sisters


Someone special like them

who knows the way I feel

in every situation

their concern is very real.

To have someone

like you

is a gift that shouldn’t

be forgotten.

I’m proud to call you my sisters

but happier still

to call you

my friends.


Ayima Ahmed

8th Grade


The Time of Year 


Grabbing hot chocolate

Looking at the Chicago lights 

Seeing the community happy 

It’s that time of the year 


Even if you don’t celebrate Christmas 

Stare at the lights and grab yourself a hot chocolate 

Bundle yourself up 

And gather around the huge tree downtown 


Drive back home and go to sleep 

Before Santa comes make sure to check your list one more time

And check if the milk didn’t expire 

And the cookies didn’t get hard 


It’s the morning 

You exactly get what you wanted 

And give a hug and a kiss to your parents 


Go around the neighborhood to wish everyone a Merry Christmas 

It’s that time of year 


Julia Alba

8th Grade





Nobody understands it like I do. 

They can’t see it the way we do.


When they come here

All they can see 

Is violence,

People fighting,

Crimes being committed.

But that isn’t what our home is.

It’s not just about the hate,

There is also peace here, too.


Friends hang out at the park.

They laugh,

They run around,

They have fun.

Families come together.

They talk,

They reminisce good times,

They are happy.

With all the bad,

There comes the good, too.


Nobody understands home like I do.

Nobody can see it the way we do.


Sanaya Cruickshank

8th Grade
















Here We Go


Here we go,

Round and around.

Never stopping,

Always running.

Going up and down.


Here we go,

Im at the end of my rope.

I’d tie an knot,

But I’m afraid.

The room is disappearing.


Here we go,

This is getting tiring.

School is a bore,

But I don’t have any money.

Man I want college.


Here we go,

The hand raised in anger.

The face of wrath,

The empty bottle.

Rolling on the floor.


Here we go,

The end has come .

I don’t need this submitted,

But my grade is important.

Thanks for listening.


Here we go,

I don’t have any money.

So its cool if you don’t want it,

I still need to write it.

My future is at stake.


Here we go,

Goodbye to you.

And thanks again,

It doesn’t seem like much.

However it made my day.


William Colgan, 11th Grade, Houston, Texas.

Eye of New York by Kimberley Simper, aged 13


The below poems are from the creative writing group at St. Paul’s Middle School in Alnwick, Northumberland, in response to this year’s National Poetry Day’s theme of ‘Light’.  These followed the resources produced by the Forward Arts Foundation and these poems were written during six workshops that were ran by Catherine Ayres.


Imagine a world with no light

©Víctor Sánchez

©Víctor Sánchez

Good things will happen, bad things despite

Higher and higher, the light gets bright

Thankfully we have a sun to give us light

© Lola, 11




Candle light

When candle light is lit he saves you from evil.

He will save you from grief and despair.

©Fer Siciliano

©Fer Siciliano

When he is blown out the smoke and light goes into your soul.

Vibes will change you from sad to relaxed.

Candle light soul is inside you now;

cherish the fact that you are special.

Blood of beautiful moons and candles before them.

Rest in the light and stay in the peace.

© Maia, 12


Candle light

Candle light can’t light up the world like his brother the sun

But he can see through us, all of us.

©Delwar Hossain

©Delwar Hossain

And he knows our secrets – past, present and future.

He knows one day he will flicker and die.

He will come back, if given a match.

He can do this 24 times before his death is certain.

He reads our minds, searching through our dark and light secrets,

easing our troubles and crashing our happiness,

to bring tears of joy and sadness.

He will crush and raise our dreams in an infinite cycle.

He burns ice and fire, interchangeably with our emotions.

He sheds his coat once in a life, changing colour with each one,

invisible to the human eye.

For he has a treasure that no humans have:


© Gregory, 11


Please Don’t Blow Me Out

I can dance for you

Spark and reach and flicker

My movements reflect on your walls

My special magic display

I can dance into your soul



Carve happiness on its walls

Please don’t blow me out.

I am weak and small

I burn only to die

I show you things you didn’t want to see

Secrets of the dark

I show you shadows

I’m scared of wind and rain

Please don’t blow me out.

I give you a path

A path of golden light

I am good and strong

I read the darkness

I translate its stories

I watch the Sun and Moon

Great gods sewn in the sky by stars

But time melts my wax

I will die.

© Libby, 12


The moon

©Hasan Yuzeir

©Hasan Yuzeir

cries, she is hurt. Her

figure is now swollen and red. The

three sharp knives of the beast sliced her. Its

hands can do too much damage. It can kill, but it chooses

to punish, to make her suffer. She will never die. She must live in pain forever.

© Catherine, 12


The Night Stage

Starlight peeps from black curtains

Glancing over the world

©Josh Joe

©Josh Joe

Shy as she tiptoes onto stage

Large eyes glance upon the crowd

Glinting with fear and truth

She sweeps across the sky in a gown of woven light

Silver hair worn long to hide her face

A timid smile from a mouth never opened

Barefoot as she sweeps across the sky

Starlight stares upon the earth

She drops gems into puddles

She plays music that cannot be heard

She gives a shy smile upon her audience

Silent as she glides off stage

The sun is up next…

© Libby, 12



Washed up on an evening tide,

vexed in confusion,

she tiptoes around the sky.

Constellations become crossed

into intricate patterns and shapes.

©Alexander Yuryevskiy

©Alexander Yuryevskiy

She wonders why she was given the job

of an artist if no one notices the art?

Wordlessly she waits,

thinking about the cruel destiny she was given.

Slowly she trudges towards the doorway,

droplets crawling down her face;

it beams with ghostly sadness.

She feels useless

but she isn’t.

Maybe tomorrow she’ll realise

but for now she crawls away.

© Philippa, 12


The Moon

©m Ri

©m Ri

Selene high in the sky,

Ever there,

Luna light in the night,

Ever there.

© George-Anne, 12


Blood moon


is the moon.


The devil’s word

©Dimitri Guedes

©Dimitri Guedes

does not influence

that blood colour.

The moon’s wife

is not the reason for

that blood colour.

The jaguar

is not the answer to

that blood colour.

It comes,

it disappears,

it comes.

Wherever you are,

the blood colour gets into your head.

The blood colour gets into your head.

Wherever you are,

it comes,

it disappears,

it comes.

That blood colour gets inside your head.

The blood colour gets inside your head

Wherever you are,

it comes,

it disappears,

it comes.

That blood colour

is not the answer to

the jaguar.

That blood colour

is not the reason for

the moon’s wife.

That blood colour

does not influence

the devil’s word.


is the moon


© Tamsin, 12


Beauty of the Night

Eyes stare at the glare of the flames,

never paying a speck of attention

to the beauty of the tension

©Julia Walter

©Julia Walter

in the air of the dark,

all dismay from those who can’t.

A detailed eye may only have

one day or a lifetime to stare,

most don’t really care

in the beauty of the night.

© Katie-Marie, 12



after “The Cataract of Lodore” by Robert Southey

His flames are great,

his eyes full of hate,

©Leticia Amor-Jurado B

©Leticia Amor-Jurado B

his murderous soul awaits.

Innocently smiling,

lighting and catching

creeping and crackling

igniting and fighting

unnoticed he creeps down the pathway.

Blazing and boiling and smouldering,

slaying and killing and laughing,

slaughtering, exterminating,

assassinating and executing,

burning and swirling and flaming

and spreading and eating and creeping.

Flashing and crashing,

bashing and smashing,

glowing and slowing

deleting and retreating.

He smokes to floors,

his food all gone,

that’s how the fire destroys our homes.

© Gregory, 11



I am distracted by a blaze of light

luring me into its territory.

Its glow is blinding;

©Alessia Giuffrida

©Alessia Giuffrida

lulling me into a deep sleep of time.

It leads me, hypnotising me into its evil lair.

I try to turn back, but it’s no use.

The light’s hands are beckoning,

its eyes pulling me ever closer.

I listen to her calls;

her voice sounds gentle

but I know it’s not.

© Anna-Grace, 11


The light

The light settles behind a hill,

©Myriam Tisbo

©Myriam Tisbo

whilst the fierce but tender wolf howls,

his greatness showing and his strength and light growing

as he pierces through the stained-glass window,

spreading colours like the rainbow.

With every breath he brings new life,

whilst others struggle for survival.

He is kind, but selfish,

spreading his glory through the countryside

to the city,

whilst again, the lonely wolf howls.

© Gregory, 11


The Sight of You
The Red Devil’s searing touch,

Emblazoned my heart with relentless love.

Past my lips he pours as I lurch,

©Florine Marlant

©Florine Marlant

The poison of amour, my own blood shed.

He pours what I made.

In times of sorrow and unrequited love,

Where my character doth fade,

A razor blade, my own blood shed.

Through the crack in the wall I stared,

In times of entrancing wonder and curious love,

Deep in my heart my souls convulsed!

Cupid’s arrow hath made me helpless, drained.

In my body I wander and in my mind I ponder.

Deep, unpoetic, stressful, overshadowing, lonely love.

© George Peat (G.A.P.), age 16


Forbidden Love

His reflection in the frozen lake,

next to mine,

was a picture of perfection.

©Anastasia Alekseeva

©Anastasia Alekseeva

Two friends in love,

Bound by petty promises,

keeping secrets from the world,

hiding behind snowflakes.

I wanted a celebration,

with confetti in the air.

I wanted to be with him,

spend time together,

like all couples do.

And all I got were midnight rendezvous

But I still smiled,

Because the moments we spent together

Melted the ice inside of me,

once and for all.

© Sadia Zafar, age 18



I walked past the door,

to the first house we bought,

And I had the urge



to knock,

To see, if you would answer.

To see, if you would let me in.

But I held my hand



As the thunder roared

and snow hit the ground.

After a while,

I lowered my hand,

and walked away.

Maybe, the winter

had made me cold.

© Sadia Zafar, age 18