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We can see the discipline in her—it absorbs

Morphs into her legs, crawls up her thighs to her torso

Spreads across her brow and out to her temples

Coils itself tight on her head

With every sudden movement.

 

Her mind, her body is awoken by the music

Operates as one in proportional contortions.

The calm façade disguises hidden manic

A stable precision echoes through her bones

With every sudden movement.

 

We are enamoured of the crisp, the clean, the controlled,

Seeing things that are stark

While looking down on the chaos that daunts us.

 

She makes art with her emotions, painting her feelings

Across the floor and into the air.

The atmosphere saturated and heavy

With her innermost truths released.

Her movements are her language.

 

She uses her body to tell us her story.

With each careful glance of her eyes, we read a new page

We feel a climax as her movements sharpen

A warm reassurance as they soften.

Every movement changes us.

 

One thing is now quite clear—this is not just a dance.

It is a true expression of things she cannot say.

 

It is letting go of anger. It is accepting pain. It is feeling beautiful joy.

 

It is being consumed by love, sharing it with the world

Without feeling shame or judgement that she is not strong.

 

It is feeling vulnerable. It is honest passion. It is true sensitivity.

 

This is her outlet, where she can be a woman

Stripped down to her most exposed self

She shows us real beauty.

With every movement.

 

 

Olivia Hunt is in eleventh grade at Downingtown East High School. She is an avid writer and aspires to study screenwriting. Her dream is to write her own television sitcom, or to become a writer on Saturday Night Live. Olivia loves live music and concerts, going to the coffee shop down the street to write, and soaking up every beautiful moment of life.

Cramped and crowded, hot and dirty.

Train doors slide open. Light.

I’m just a lonely Jew

Alone with no family.

Stepping off the train,

The first breath of fresh air

Coaxes my mouth open.

I try taking my first full breath in hours

Like a parched man finding an oasis.

My throat burns, hot and dry.

A strange smell attacks me.

It is not the same, sweet air from home.

Home smells familiar and kind.

Here, it is rotten, a vapor

Of horrific terror, unforgiving.

 

Smoke, a raging bull approaches

Horns facing me, threatening to puncture my lungs

Like a scared child I hold my breath.

Hoping fear and the beast cannot find me

But the beast is a skilled predator, a bloodhound.

Walking, shuffling, muttering prayers.

“Beast, stay away from me.” I whimper

The smoke, I come to realize,

Is not My Greatest Fear.

My Greatest Fear greets me

With open arms in an open flame.

My dreams catch fire first,

The dreams of family and school

The dreams of laughter and happiness

All reduced to smoke and ash

This pit is where the Beast laughs in triumph.

It sizzles with the fuel of flesh,

Giggles from the beast itself, happy.

Another nameless, faceless victim is I.

The beast consumes me

In a pit of screams and terror.

 

Madeline Hickey is a junior at Downingtown East High School. She has spent most of her free time this year writing for her creative writing class, reading her growing collection of books, and participating in her theatre department’s programs. She hopes to someday be a professional writer.

Nobody sits alone on the Seine,

A fact that’s unfortunately true

Of the twos and the threes and the fours and the tens,

And then me, who’s alone, but with you

 

You crouch beneath benches that I sit upon

You swim through the waters I paint

As I walk through the streets, you don’t stay for long

But by river, your form lies in wait

 

I remember, one time, when we came to the Seine,

I, nineteen, you, twenty and bold,

We looked like a painting that I bought that day

When the air didn’t feel quite so cold

 

But now I am here and your ghost is beside

The shoulder that still wears your coat,

If I look close enough, then I think I can find

The heart and initials we wrote

 

Yes, nobody sits alone on the Seine

I am watching the twos and the threes

Then I look to the river and whisper to you

“Bonjour, tu me manques, mon ami”

Emma Paolini is from Medford, New Jersey and attends Merion Mercy Academy. She enjoys reading, writing, and edits for her school’s literary magazine.

the man milling near the lamp post

feet shuffling slowly, phone in hand

lifts the cigarette to his lips

 

the cancerous thing

the smoke and the fire and the phone call

diagnosis: cancer

 

the gauges in his ears

drag him downward

to the dust

 

brown hair and scruffy beard

soon disappear under the smell of

hospital disinfectant

 

glasses and phone on bedside table

he sleeps, and who knows

what could happen soon, under

bitter taste of anaesthesia, the lung transplant

 

he will be dead, soon

inevitable, doctors say in whispers

imaginary family and friends cry for him

as they lift cigarettes to their lips

Srishti Ramesh is 15 years old and a sophomore in high school. She enjoys reading and writing, especially young adult literature. She also loves music, mostly hip-hop/rap and rock. She lives in Voorhees, New Jersey with her family and an unfortunate lack of pets.

Blue is the color of the deep, salty ocean; cold, but warmed by the shimmering aquamarine rays that filter down through its rippling surface. Blue is the sky reflected in your eyes when you laugh.

Blue represents rhythm. It is the color of the calm, ceaseless meter of poetry; the cadence of the wind-swept waves creating a lattice across the surface of a forgotten pool; the pattern of the delicate carpet of bluebells decorating the meadow and forest floor.

Blue is found in the depth of the ocean, in the expanse of the sky. It is universal, eternal, unchangeable, the color of truth.

Blue is the color of my dreams when I wake up in the morning, and the ink in my pen when I write.

Blue is the color of Eternity.

Naomi Mengel is in eleventh grade at Tall Oaks Classical School. In addition to writing, she enjoys reading, running, photography, and playing volleyball. She lives in Newark, DE, with her parents, younger sister, and golden retriever.

From you, I grow farther

Falling leaves, as autumn will pass

I’ll rest temporarily, on grass

Wind will remove me

Other places I’ll go

Until eventually I’ll disappear

Covered in snow

Carlo Lingesso is 18 years old and now studying Communications at Rowan College at Gloucester County. His passions include writing poetry and short stories. He writes to relay his thoughts, feelings, and life experiences on paper. In his opinion, the most satisfying reward from writing is hearing somebody’s passionate and genuine response to his work.

I live a half-life,
Full of half-baked things.
Half-friends, half-dreams, and half-songs to sing.
Half-formed goals for a half-planned tomorrow.
Half-done coping for half-felt sorrow.

The half-lived life, some think is insane.
With half-happy joy and half-seething pain.
But when life keeps threatening and belittling you,
You find it much easier just to cut it in two.

Only half-hearts to be broken and half-hopes to be squandered.
A half-man to half-die and to half-rest.
And it does not take much effort
To lead this half-life,
For when you do it half-heartedly,
You are doing it half right.

In our reduced states, we are truly half-free.
With less to focus on, we can finally half-see.
But to be truly half free, one must concede
To lock away the things they’d rather not see.
For things are always right,
When they’re put in half-sight,
And if you say that’s ignorant,
You’re probably half-right.

But in the end, one must remember
Above one and above all,
That being half-nothing is better
Than being nothing at all.

Connor Healy is in the twelfth grade and he enjoys writing poetry. He lives in Medford, NJ, with his little brother and two little sisters. In his spare time, Connor also enjoys riding his bike and acting in musical theatre shows.

Um, excuse me, sir,
Could you please stop the world now?
I’d like to get off.

Connor Healy is in the twelfth grade and enjoys writing poetry. He lives in Medford, NJ with his little brother and two little sisters. In his spare time, Connor also enjoys riding his bike and acting in musical theatre shows.

The year in question is twenty sixteen.
The problem is with whom was elected.
Despite all the opposing party did,
their candidate was rejected.

The system needed people to vote,
to cast a ballot in every state.
The results justified the actions:
Such acts of terror and hate.

The lies of the winner blinded us.
The polls gave us false hope.
No one saw this coming.
The country learns to cope.

The next face of our nation
has a narrow state of mind;
What does this say of our country?

What does it say of mankind?

The first amendment affirms our right
to pursue a religion with ease;
That means you cannot ban
people who you don’t please.

Threatening the safety of protesters
is not the value half our country chose.
He cries out words of violence
to those who dare to oppose.

He dares to sue the newspapers
that are open, honest, and smart.
That violates our rights,
Those same at our nation’s heart.

This just means we can never stop fighting.
We cannot quiet, quit, or cry.
Every moment is even more precious.
Our freedom will never die.

Julia Carrigan is a 14-year old freshman at George School in Newtown, Pennsylvania. She lives and breathes the musical Hamilton. With whatever little time there is left, Julia likes to read, act, and write.

Stranded in the ocean
And she can’t even breathe.
The waves are pounding,
It’s hard to see.
She’s trying so hard to stay afloat,
Hoping she will spot a boat.

After a while, she gives in
And the water washes away her sin.
Her eyes flutter, shut, and her
Lungs begin to burn.
The farther down she sinks
Her mind begins to burn.

She no longer wants to sink,
So, she quickly starts to think.
She kicks and strains with all her might,
Trying hard to draw out the fight.

Suddenly the girl feels relief
And she is finally able to breathe;
she looks up at the feathered sky,
and sees her angel floating high.

Karly Smith is a junior in high school and aspires to be a bestselling author when she grows up. When she is not writing, she is drawing to fill up her free time.