Literary Magazine 2017

Impressions Morgan Park Academy Spring 2017

Cover Image:​ Corrupt​ by Elijah Ferguson

The Father of MPA

By Tyler Brisard

Dedicated to Mr. Malcolm and His Retirement in 2017

I see him.

With bright shiny eyes, And a beautiful smile, He is the father of MPA

Everyday, When we leave his class, “Have a great day!”

That shall forever last.

This is the man who guided me, My destiny to be guided with him.

I desired to be the best I could be So he could see the passion in me.

But now, things are changing, He will be leaving, This beloved school known as MPA, And soon, I won’t see him everyday.

Thank you for being there for me You have helped guide me.

You will always be in my heart, And our paths will never part

Thank you, Mr. Malcolm I will always miss you.

Life Without Words

By Rachel Sheppard

Dance is my language.

No words, just movement, Rhythm flowing like a river Beats smooth as skin.

Battements, Jettes, Feuttes, and all different things, Come down to all being​ my​ language.

Dance is my heartbeat, A beast that needs to be tamed and set free.

Hands are like rocks, Arms are the leaves, Feet are the roots, And my legs are the tree.

Tap, Ballet, Modern, and Jazz All feel the same when you think to the past, My mind and my feet, Think on the same beat.

I leave for now, And I try to say, Dance is my language That no one can take away.

A Fragile Beauty

By Kaihla Ozurguibo-Anderson

She Might Be Small And Frail But Don’t Let That Fool You Her Wings Are As Big As The Hear She Contains Within

What Started Out As A Small Caterpillar To A Cocoon To Something Great

Just Awaiting Its Humble Fate She Loved, Laughed, Sings She Flaps Her Beautiful Wings And Is Known For Sitting On The Throne With Kings

She’ll Vanish Aflitter In A Blink Of An Eye Magic Aflutter, Wink In The Sky

She Is Indeed Something Great With Some Skittles In Her Hand And Her Wings At Her Side She’ll Glide High In The Great Blue Sky

Language Not For Sale

By Jasmine Reeder

Language is not yours to rent like a book Flipping the pages, learning new things Take it all in, learn as much as you can For in a couple of years it will be lost.

Language is freedom With no boundaries that can be used for hurt or to shame So always be careful of what you say

Choose what words to use wisely because there are many Only so many that can be wasted on hatred and pain But make them funny and use them to make yourself and others happy

Say them with sass Enhance them with pizazz Speak them loud and say them proud and always have a purpose

For when you forget that purpose All that is constructed is torn down and all that is wanted is shut down.

Dresses Designed by Saanvi Malkani

Flaming Colors

By Hunter Vujevic

As amber begins to powder the trees Gold lacing through the brush The flaming colors of the leaves As the wind flows and heaves All is brought to a hush.

The only sound, a drop of dew The sun now has more time to sleep As the world creates patterns, all with hue A brilliant haze shows the forest’s beauty is true and a grace that brings deers to leap.

Falling, trickling, tumbling down Prancing colors on their way The forest possesses a flowing gown A magnificent veil below a crown But no matter what happens, it won’t stay.

The fiery blossom will become cold A chill among all fields A freeze with a trait of bold Loneliness incarnate behold And all the light can do is yield.

Dead Roses

By Charles Hendon

Dead Roses Waste away, Petals lifeless As the day, And all but lies Lies hopeless, Gray

To lie on the ground The cold--hard Ground, In an abandoned place, As if pinned or bound, By an-- Unknown force

Oh dead rose, You can’t come back to life.

The weight of the world The grief and the strife, The wear and tear Was just too much to bear, So you lie Upon The ground.

Become One

By Devin Otto

I need to be free, free to float away and stay with you.

I need to have rest, let go of sadness, and weaken the hold of gravity so I can come up.

Up past the clouds that can be as calm as a summer sunrise or chaotic as a winter blizzard.

Up past the reaches of the atmosphere To be with you again.

I would split the sky and crack the clouds to make myself a path To where you are.

But where are you?

I need to find you and fly away.

Fly away to become one with the universe.

Found Poem

By Kaihla Ozurguibo-Anderson

The Truth Is A Star Acts, Confounds, And Counteracts To Those Who Have Tried To Notice It. A Star Is Well Known, To All Who Have Made The Natural Desire, To Observe Its Original Cause.

Should You However Notice A Star And Proceed As Follows Or On The Contrary, Do The Opposite, You Should Wish To The Marvelous Star And Present Namely According To Your Wish.

Determination Is the Thing with Legs

By Lily Ryan

Inspired by Emily Dickinson’s ​Hope Is the Thing with Feathers

Determination is the thing with legs- That runs, sprints, jogs, skips, saunters, kicks, towards a goal.

It is grounded, however unstuck.

It is moving forward, it is pushing on.

And its song is the stomping of feet- the pushing up from the ground- the shaking of the Earth when it falls- the loud silence when it lifts.

It is heard in the ears of some- yearned for by others- it is blindingly enlightening.

It pulls the heart, running steadily- it is immovably mobile.

By Hannah Sipich

Happiness

By Kennedy Coats

In the hands of life Are seeds of love Planted in the hearts of many You never know when Or where they've been planted Until they sprout But if they don't sprout fast enough Tragedy does Love can only with so much Until the weeds of tragedy strangle the life out of love Love is then left to wither But the tears of life sprinkled upon withered love sprouts the eternal sunshine that keeps love alive This is more love than can be planted and grown It's a special kind of love reserved for those who need it most One day that love shines on just the right person That is what keeps life alive to plant love and cry until sunshine rays bring happiness Happiness makes the world turn Happiness is what everyone deserves Happiness is what I need and you need and they need Happiness and eternal sunshine from love and the tears of life That's what keeps us alive

Photo by Yifan Hu

Sweet Southern

By Yazmin Mosi

Sweet southern Granny Somalia!

How could you you leave me so?

I never got to get to know you, I can still smell your honeysuckle love, And feel your sweet soft hugs like a dove, You were always so natural and pure, You were always such a cure, To my heart Do you remember that trip to Six Flags?

Spinning around like a helicopter on the teacups.

Why did you leave me?

Never smoked a cigarette, But yet the evil Black Death filled your lungs, In my eyes, you are still a survivor.

You did not lose the battle, Because you are up in heaven with God, flying away like a bird, To the top of a honeysuckle tree I hope you still remember me I know you will ‘Cause I was your little angel And you are mine!

Thirteen Ways of Looking at Money

By Rachel Sheppard

I Money is exchange Like conversation between you and me Doesn’t always turn out how you wanted it to be

Ⅱ Money is relations Just like family and friends A revolving door that never ends

Ⅲ Money is currency Never belongs to one Shared amongst many

IV Money is poverty The reason people are on the streets With nothing to possibly eat Have no you or me

V The country's great divide, Thick and thin, Sticks and stones, Bad or good, It's all money

VI Money is food Food to people's hunger Drinks to their thirst A way into their hearts But the taste May be a little bitter

VII Who knows, Maybe it's a key?

Used to unlock-

Unlock and release, The happiness of many

Vlll Money are coins All dollars add up to Nickels, Dimes, and Pennies But not just, Our coins But coins of everywhere

lX Money is an animal Locked up in its cage Waiting to be set free

X Money is love Always has problems But can be fixed; Can make or break you

Xl It can be a barrier A wall between the Good and bad But if the wall Were to be torn down Would crumble to be same: money

Xll But, money can be a reliever The opening of gates to something new

Xlll Money can be a diamond in the rough Or many can be a stick in the mud But in the end Choose money, Or spend a life of sin

3.2.1.

By Lizzie Patel

Three. see me, beat me, leave me don't realize, real eyes look into me feel lies, real dies too

Two we all die, try to fly to a better place, we can't escape our fate is set in stone left with death with nothing credit cards don't work when you can't learn, can't turn can't grow, can't know can't breathe, can't see i haven't won

One so close, spoke to change wait i have more to say there's more my fate shouldn't be in your hands, i've got plans fans around me see my name in bright lights see the bright light fight away run away i'd love to stay to go i can't move just lay here, fear fills me, see? i can't 3.2.1.

The Rose

By Lily Ryan

A woman is like a rose.

Manipulated by men, for men.

She is much more than her petals, she is stem, she is thorns, she is roots, she is born, not for man, but for more.

She grows in many colors, each beautiful and breathtaking.

Her thorns are sharp, like her wit and her mind.

Her roots are deep.

She is powerful, she can grow, she is purposeful, yet she is silenced.

She is capable, yet she is limited.

She is equal, yet she is unvalued.

A woman is like a rose.

Untitled ​By Ria Kingra

A Hero is Not a (HE)ro

By Samaria Harris

the dictionary defines the word ​hero ​like this: “a person, TYPICALLY A MAN, who is admired or idealized by courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities” he, he, he, what about me what about the women trapped, not able to be set free the (SHE)ro is never shown only if she looks good, and doesn't wear any clothes

a society of men, who TYPICALLY save the day have you forgotten the young girls and women who have begged not to be treated this way but as a (SHE)ro “a person, TYPICALLY A WOMAN, who is left behind in the dust and told to give up, but defies all restrictions, so people will actually listen. who also is admired by hundreds and thousands, and receive noble qualities and outstanding achievements”

(SHE)ro is a Malala, Michelle Obama, even a mega-sensational singer, Madonna.

Rosa Parks, Amelia Earhart, and the young girl who only wanted a fresh start, wanted to write in her diary to take the pain away, Anne Frank.

abused, misused, don’t have anything to lose? you see, a (SHE)ro is a human being

her strength, power, is conceding but is overseen by some type of beauty the smarts, the heart is tricked and played by fools, TYPICALLY A MAN, who just simply doesn’t understand

why aren’t we recognized as ‘good enough’ why can’t we be seen as a special being is it because of our brain, how we speak, or maybe past history? or is it because we are a she a “she can’t...” or “she shouldn’t…” or “she couldn’t”

a (SHE)ro is meant to be heard meant to break all limits that are held against her ...meant to speak ...meant to lead ...meant to be seen by the people who discouraged her well-being

in this time, in our society a girl is the “next option” now it’s time, to tell our society “I am a girl. I am a (SHE)ro, and nobody can stop me!”

Wood

By Emmett Campbell

The wood on a tree Natural and free Free to grow and thrive But suddenly cut down by the saw of society.

And down came the wood.

Made into a podium For celebrating someone else's success, Made into stairs For people to walk all over you, Made into a house Where there you spend the rest of your adult life, Made into paper for an office Where you are paid less than men,

See, the wood could have thrived on the tree, But instead Became items for others to use.

Sunset​ by Riya Kingra

One More Day

By Devin Otto

I only need to make it through one more day; no more than that.

Just one more.

One step at a time, keep walking through the desert’s burning rage, numb to feeling, to pain, to emotion.

One more day.

Keep going, no matter what; Loved ones, friends, people gone, lost to the burning pits of heat, sand, and fire that is the desert.

One more day,

just that much more.

It’s okay But it feels like forever more.

One more day, one hour, one step that’s all I need.

All I need to keep going

for one more day.

Stand Side by Side

By Chantal Garcia

We stand by side All like one We all are different But we stay strong

All the fights We wave our flags High and low We stuck together Throughout the year

We are united- Like a lion pack We fight our way through the wild jungle Mark our spot and go down in history

As we stand by side We unite We take a chance To stand up and say what's right

Two Friends ​By Sheridan Harris

Dirty Laundry

By Charles Hendon

Emotions dried up Like dirty laundry, Thrown in the washer To be clean again.

Tossed aside, Tossed away, Rotting inside, Levels of decay, Time in disarray, The sky blank and gray, No one stops to watch The sun’s delay.

Tattered and torn, Wearied and worn, Broken and bent, To an extreme extent.

Dirty laundry, Washed upon the shore, That no one dares to look at

Anymore

Feigned

By Hunter Vujevic

In beautiful Adonis fields- Under endless cobalt skies, Life will continue; never yields- As hunks of leaves shuffle by.

Though not known that this Adonis- With bright blossoming hues Has toxins hidden, they admonish- And flow through moribund roots.

How do such beautiful petals- Accommodate such malice?

Though never the first preference- Wouldn’t the world prefer a Malus?

In different regions arised- Grow different petals raised.

From sun-like flowers dyed- To crimson colors glazed.

Lost in everyday action- Knowing that alone.

The Adonis continues to poison- And its constant path is sewn.

Crowded

By Kennedy Coats

There is never one face in a crowd But what makes one of those faces Feel alone when surrounded?

The other faces seem blank They mean nothing when they’re not yours They are just isolation Like a forest full of trees.

I find myself lost.

You lost me, I lost you, Now we are together In a crowd Separated and lost.

Crossroads ​By Sheridan Harris

13 Ways of Looking At a Tree

by Kenneth Muhammad

I The seasons have frozen The plants have died Yet the trees still stand tall.

II Their roots extend into the ground Their trunks rise high into the sky But their branches stay low and offer shade

III One tree branch splits into two Two into 4, 4 into 8, 8 into 16

IV Although chopped down for supplies In their death, trees live on Offering structural support And protection.

V Trees are gateways to memories Memories are created from paper Paper is created from trees Carving a tree also creates a memory Trees are like hard drives

VI Every grandpa has had one A grandfather clock Tick, tock, tick, tock Trees can tell time by themselves Annual growth rings track a tree’s age New year, new ring Trees are clocks

VII When autumn comes Trees show their true colors Colors locked down for months

But in showing their true identity They lose themselves

VIII While trees grow, they get stronger If malnourished, they become weaker A tree is like a child in need Trees need nourishment and comfort Trees are people too

IX Trees keep themselves alive By keeping us alive The endless cycle of oxygen and carbon dioxide

X Brutal actions sometimes lead to new discoveries Burning a tree is a sad experience But in exchange for watching a tree die slowly It offers heat in its final hours

XI Online photos are nothing without trees Without trees, they are merely code With trees, they are real Real enough to touch and feel Printing brings life to things

XII Up and down, trees transport us Stairs are non-existent without trees

XIII A world without trees Is a world without identity A chaotic world where memories are forgotten A chaotic world where winter overcomes the earth No trees, No future

Colonized

By Elizabeth Park

Why us?

Between the other countries, Why us?

With language that we don’t understand With weapons that we have never seen They tortured us

Carefully creeped to our house They carved part of my heart out

Now I am here Surrounded by this air full with bloody smell There is a line and another line My thoughts are lingering in my mind

I heard my father’s death from the south I heard my mother’s death from the north

There is light striking towards me Like a stream That I can never reach

Today, I stand silently sinking to my thoughts Today, I want to be a black butterfly That hides in the deep ocean

My tears stopped There’s no more I cried to the death

Oh, cry for me murky cloud Oh, shine for me sunshine

Now the time has come I will see you again

Heart

By Kennedy Coats

It opens everything falls out it's unorganized it's true

I close it I struggle to find the confidence in the cockiness to open it again

Butterfly​ by Kennedy Coats

i am simply not myself

By Lizzie Patel

i am simply not myself my back is a boat i am simply a vessel available for your pleasure, at your earliest convenience, aren’t i?

my body, it’s not my own my body is a host and you are the perfect parasite take all i have for why would i need to feed myself?

my lips do not form shouts only smiles, and giggles, of course. my lips are a puppet and i am simply here to reinforce your manhood to bring you joy.

my collarbone is your conquest where no means be persistent and stop says don’t give up i am simply the new land and you, christopher columbus, see nothing but empty potential, nothing could have existed before you found me.

my feet are felines ready when you call they purr at your croons

and do not realize you have trapped them inside i am simply super saturated with compliments that only praise the things i didn't create acid insults slip through my ears, are microphones for you to scream into.

how beautiful i am to you, but only when my windows are open

and silent

or my crushed dreams

and bruises and black eyes are hidden my uterus is ultimately your possession

you bought it from the store and tore it apart

and now that you cannot return it it is your choice it is no longer mine, it is yours.

for how could i be trusted with my own body? when i am not trusted with a mind i am simply not mine.

The Race

By Ella Sherman

Two people begin a race A man and a woman They are promised that the race will be fair That both runners have an equal chance And so they set off

The man is walking He takes his time He is out of breath at times He sits down and rests

The woman is running She wastes not a second She is out of breath at times She continues anyway

The man is walking But he walks with nothing blocking his path The woman is running But she runs with dozens of obstacles in her way

The woman is running But she must jump, dodge, and spin to keep on course The man is walking And there is nothing to stop him

The man walks slower The woman runs faster

But, the man crosses the finish line And wins.

I’m Sorry

By Camra Simmons

I’m Sorry That I want to go to school

I’m Sorry That I want to vote

I’m Sorry That I have opinions

I’m Sorry That I want those opinions to be heard

I’m Sorry That I want to be a doctor

I’m Sorry That I want to learn how to read

I’m Sorry That I don’t want to stay in the house

I’m Sorry That in your eyes I’ll never be good enough

Because in my eyes I see myself as a strong woman that can achieve great things That doesn’t need you

So I’m Sorry

That you can’t see me as the Strong and Independent Woman that I know I am.

Really I’m Sorry.

The Real Me

By Elizabeth Park

How do you know me, If I don’t know me.

I don’t know who I am And I don’t know who I want to be.

Since eleven, The sparkling star in my heart started to lose color.

Under pressure, My hopes crushed.

Every day, I have a nightmare.

Surrounded by grown-ups.

Stumbling feet with eyes filled with anxiety.

Fingernails all bitten.

What people don’t know about me, I don’t have a dream.

And I want to be young forever.

Untitled​ By Kennedy Coats

Raindrops

By Tyler Brisard

You left me here to cry, You hurt me deep inside, The night goes on, And I can tell that I won't make it through alone.

Let me fly into the moonlight, Just give me space to breathe, Let me see inside the darkness, Just to wash away the free.

The cold surrounds me now In this sea of lies and doubts, A moment life's about It's quiet now, all I hear are raindrops.

Just a Little Teapot

By India Lopez

shoved to the back eyelet atop the old stove

pulled to the front only when i’m to be used lonely my metal is bruised

rust covers the curves about my metallic body

i whistle and blow, the flame is doused silence my silence is violence

Chains

By Chloe Guido

Chains binding my ankles Wrapped around my soul and mind Holding me back Keeping me from fulfilling my dreams These chains Digging into my once soft skin Now covered with scars For the chains do not have sympathy and neither do you

Walking for Life

By Yazmin Mosi

Walking, walking, walking for miles I can't go any longer But I can't stop now Listening to all these sounds In the nature around me The bushes, flowers, and trees, The green grass, And sunny sun, My feet are very tired I feel as if I could drop dead right here Chirp, chirp Tweet, tweet Goes the birds Sores on the bottom of my feet, Yet I keep walking.

Nature is my TV Turn it on and see the beautiful sky, Turn the next channel and see the black sky Walking for seconds, Minutes, Hours, Days, Weeks, Months, Years, Decades, And centuries, Yet I still move on.

Untitled

By Savannah Bryant

*italicized lyrics by Incubus

Meet me in outerspace We could spend the night Watch the earth come up I’ve grown tired of that place Won’t you come with me?

We can start again.

Away from the crowd Looking at the stars We could jump so high From the moon to the sun I know you are the one.

We could surf the milky way And skate on Saturn’s rings We could share our dreams on Neptune And run free on Uranus On Jupiter we could be famous.

We run And go far We aren’t who we were before It’s was a blur, But we’re not going back.

Drawing and Digital Art by Chelsea Dunlap

In Memory of Emmett Till

By Grace Cahill

The sky cried the day that Emmett Till died.

Eyes wide open like the casket, in disbelief that this could happen.

“Just a child” muttered through the pews murdered innocently, while visiting his family in Mississippi.

Innocent they pleaded, and the judge let them go while Emmett’s mom sat there alone.

The world stood silent,

The world stood still,

Yet the marches rumble the earth and the cheers break loose,

‘Equality!’

We cry!

They put there hands on their ears, but we won't stop till we are heard.

Reflection

By Simone Hubbard

Only 14 born in Chicago Caring and loving boy Accused because of his color Abused because of his color

Beaten, tossed, and chained Only for whistling was just in Mississippi to visit and left with Discomfort Gone for 4 days 2 white men or 2 mad men Abducted at gunpoint

Shot in the head Beaten ‘till dead

Emmett Till: just a young boy

Sit-in in Greensboro

By Jasmine Reeder

On February 1, 1960 Down in Greensboro, North Carolina A peaceful day calm and smooth The sound of the wind as it swiftly moves before us.

Me a regular negro walking through town Knowing there is nothing wrong With what I am about to do.

I’m just going to sit down I’ve got 3 good friends with me We all know exactly what’s about to go down.

We walk swiftly through the town The door creeks open we all know that sound-- *Ding Dong* we are in this place.

We are in this space.

They don’t want us here And they start to stare.

“We would like to be served, please, “ I say loud and clear.

I can see it in her face She looks like she just got maced, She says “You best get outta here.

Know y’all know we don’t want you here.​”

Unfinished Business

By Camra Simmons

In Memory of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Shots rang through the air On April 4th, 1968.

It was a hard day, the loss of their leader, inspiration.

They had just lost Hope himself.

He was shot, By a troubled man Who had nothing else to live for.

So he decided to kill Hope, Destroying dreams worldwide, For little black boys and black girls Who just simply wanted rights.

Today, although racism still exists I would like to say That Dr. King would be proud That we are continuing His Unfinished Business.

I, Jimmie Lee Jackson

By Kenneth Muhammad

It was a dark and cloudy night We marched in plain sight To fight against the people that Didn't want us to have rights

Our peaceful march went dark When police took away our light They beat us down They drove us away They wanted us to be afraid

I hid away with my family To get away from this terror But while protecting those closest to me I was shot by an officer

Here I lie on my deathbed With a wound inflicted on me By a man who serves justice In a country where injustice is free

My name is Jimmie Lee Jackson I had a family Until they were taken away from me By a country filled with bigotry

If Only

By Ella Sherman

If only I had recognized the sound of a gunshot If only I had been looking to the right If only I had pulled him down in time If only

I did not go out much But I went out that day The top of our car was down Crowds shrieked and waved Calling “President Kennedy!”

Calling for my husband I was swept away And I suppose that’s why I missed it

I missed the sound of gunfire The sound of a bullet ripping through the air It hits my husband And then the world starts to spin I could have pulled him down Could’ve, should’ve, didn’t Another bullet strikes him But I am powerless to help him

He was dead not much later Dead perhaps because of me No more will crowds call for “President Kennedy!”

No more will I call for my husband If only I had done dozens of little things If only I had heard the sound, turned another way If only I had saved him

If only

But Still They Sat

By Ella O’Neill

In 1960 they were not welcome, To sit down and eat. this was a crime,

But still they sat.

The Greensboro 4 made a good start.

When 20 more joined it became a revolution.

They were not welcome that day or any other,

But still they sat.

It all began with only 4 20 came then hundreds more.

They were not allowed to eat or drink,

But still they sat.

They tried to study, not cause a problem, Yet fights were still picked, And food was thrown.

But still they sat.

The Death of Emmett Till

By Katie Manning

A child, beaten and shot Why? The color of his skin?

A whistle at a girl, but that's no sin

A tear in his mother's heart Because the color of his skin caused him to part From this dark and empty world.

His mother calls, But only a small light In the gloom will crawl.

Mississippi's hate crimes And the church bells chime For the death of Emmett Till.

And only the living move on after the rain falls down my face Because for the death of Emmett Till.

Sixty Years Later

by Morgan Barber

The wrong place at the wrong time That's what they say Simply to keep their thoughts at bay Simply to avoid the headache

Not the wrong place Not the wrong time But two words that don't rhyme And that never will rhyme If we forget

Forget the red with salty taste Forget to act with haste Forget not to waste Our time

Emmett was burned to death By the flames of hate As soon as he walked into that store, He became racism's bait And the fish devoured him With no remorse

Over sixty years later Has any time passed?

Crowds are still be gassed Boys and men Still being slaughtered for the color of their skin When does it end?

Sixty years later Emmett Till is murdered again.

Will You Survive?

By India Lopez

And so the story goes On and on and back and forth, The revolution Is absolute.

Cut off the head of the Belligerent militant group That sponsors the revolution That will not be televised.

The question that arises in the mind-- Will you make it?

Was it worth it?

Will you survive?

War Time

by Morgan Barber

BANG

Is it time?

No, but another’s Another who stopped wondering about time

The enemy, a bear among hundreds of trout Another trigger pulled without a doubt

BANG

Is it time?

Rain is falling As red as the cheeks of a schoolgirl

The rain comes down harder, Faster, Thicker?

It is not rain.

It is time.

Freedom

By Savannah Bryant

Freedom is able to do what you want Not being tied down Going from place to place without anybody Go as you are Alone

Freedom is not being oppressed because of my skin Not worried if one of my loved ones or I will be the next black life to matter Freedom

The nights I pray that God has my back Hoping that my future won't go splat My black brothers and sisters sacrificed for freedoms we still don't have Freedom

Freedom is escaping from the darkness Run, run, run Fast, into the light All the blood, sweat, and tears Not there still Freedom

The USA uses that word heavily Our liberties, “The land of the free” They declare Most still don't have it Freedom

A funny thing That word is still not a real thing I wish I pray for it someday

Brutality

By Elauna Harris-Jones

Was I born to die?

Was I taken from God’s arms just to be put back?

They asked me what I wanted to be, But they decided my fate with a bullet in my back.

All I want is to be is free.

My brothers and sisters slain before, But like a beaten broken animal they stand no more.

They watch as we fight, Their tears stain our faces as we march, But they continue to shoot us down.

Unjust not right, We don’t put up a fight.

Even when we’re innocent children, Before we’re eighteen, They still want us gone and they will do anything.

This is not freedom, If we must bow down.

Why are they the ringmaster, and us the clowns?

Sisters must stomp sturdily, Brothers have their hands held high.

Must freedom go out the window?

Are his words “Yes we can!” true?

Is there something we can do?

Will I have to continue to carefully watch up here on my cloud?

An angle I am, and it pains me to see, The true becoming of White America.

Poetry Journey

By Nyah Singleton

My journey of poetry Is none like any other- Pencil- Is my companion, As I let my imagination be my guide-

I will Soar across the deep sea, Of rhythm and rhyme, Making sure I Don’t drown during the time-

Then, I will climb through the Jurassic jungle of alliteration, Where Pencil will be The only thing possibly holding me back-

Now, I will take a break in my stanza, Where I can stop to convey up my thoughts, And think about my next stop, Onomatopoeia Road-

When I took Onomatopoeia Road- Every turn I took was a, Swoosh- And I couldn’t figure out why-

I am now ready to end my journey here, Pencil is has brought me to where I need to be- It salvaged a sufficient amount of satire, With many breaks in between, And helped me create poetry.