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Expectations

The opening of her mouth signals more

And more words. She throws me in the fire to succeed, and 

Yet I burn. The possibility of work floods my senses.

I know I must be great, but how can I with her lurking

Around my mind every waking moment. Homework.

Programs. All things I enjoy,

When she doesn’t expect something from me. 

To look out for her, to clean up after her

When I come back from my evening endeavors. 

I am a rule follower, I do no wrong. 

No harm among the world, and yet

Her words send signals

Of her perfect daughter to be. 

Asking her when she is going to succeed.

She closes her mouth with the taste of honesty,

She knows that I could never

Live up to her expectations, of who she wants me to be.

 
My Mother’s Love

My mother’s love extends wisdom,

Beyond my ear

My mother’s love is no one else’s. 

It is beautiful and merciful, like the sun. 

When ready to shine, her love scatters my mind.

My mother’s love acquires armor. 

Delicate and cautious, when met face to face

With the wind.

It is impacted by screams. 

Honest and true, I move through and through

My mother’s love fears no fools. 

A fool like me, fears nothing

But her. 

It is true, her words float around me.

Yet, her cloud may pull me back down. 

My mother’s love. 

It is my mother’s, no one else’s.

My mother’s love.

 Magic in the Woods

A trip to the woods,

Won’t hurt anyone. 

She goes because everyone else goes.

They go to party

To have fun

To release

To get away from the parents that haunt them.

She follows suit among the crowd

The trees watch from a distance

Waiting for her to get lost

Waiting for her to follow that path. 

And then she is gone. 

Lost in the tracks, a branch helps her find the way

Not to her friends, but to where they all have been. 

Flying in the air, the girl is lost in a hole

She ends up in a place unlike home. 

A place where everyone is free to be themselves

Or whoever they want to be. 

Where you can dress up, or watch skits for hours. 

This is a place where time doesn’t exist. 

Where hate and kindness are not balanced,

But one conquers the other. 

The girl lost in a trance, stays in the place 

Till time collects her. 

Which is hard since time doesn’t exist in a

Place full of magic, that hides under a hole

Where everyone stumbles for free.  

But yet, they always end up paying a price to leave. 

Prayer about the Moon

As the sun and moon say their goodnights,

A little girl in the distance prays.

Her words battle against the night sky

For her God only knows why, 

She prays in the darkest time.

She couldn’t help but ask for guidance from up above

She couldn’t help but ask for God to watch over her family

She couldn’t help but ask for her to see another day. 

Now, the moon is watching

Waiting for the right of way,

To bless this little girl’s day. 

She prays for love, in the darkest moments

She prays for faith, in her weakest moments

She prays for hope. Hope that she can see the sun, 

Until she crosses over to meet the moon. 

The moon hears her, in every which way

He dreams of her prayers to be answered,

That her God will bless her until her dying days. 

The girl couldn’t help but pray for the moon

She, looked at the moon for every possible question

Hoping that he could grant her blessings. 

She finished her prayer, so that the moon could teach her a lesson. 

With an Amen hanging in the air, the girl hoped

For the moon to never disappear.

Jazmyne Moseley is in eleventh grade and goes to Franklin Towne Charter High School. She likes to write poetry and short stories for fun. She also likes to read and build lego sets. Her favorite color is blue, and she enjoys living in quietness. She lives in Philadelphia, PA with her dog, Bailey, and her mom.

The Devil Came Between Us

“Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm” said Mercutio, 

As he lay there on the street, dying.

It must be true, then, that history only remembers the winners and survivors,

Because while the love story of the two star crossed lovers, bravest Romeo and purest Juliet lives on to this day,

No one thinks of the children killed,

The names of Tybalt and Mercutio forgotten.

While the feud of Montagues and Capulets was raging,

The future generations were dying. 

In a fit of rage, Tybalt killed Mercutio, and Romeo killed Tybalt, who had wanted to kill Romeo.

A never ending cycle of detestment and hatred and murder, 

And who ends up on top?

Tybalt, the short tempered Capulet?

Romeo, the hasty Montague?

Mercutio, a witty member of neither party?

No.

No one ends up on top, no one wins. 

If Shakespeare is going to be honored for writing a tale of two lovers fated to meet and die,

Then he should also be honored for showing his readers the truth.

The reality of the same cycle we have been forced into.

Everyone has fought, betrayed and lied.

Driven by theses temporary emotions,

We fly into a rage, and though it is improbable we have left physical bodies behind,

The mental husks of it will haunt us forever. 

Ghosts of our pasts, invisible to the human eye, that impact our decisions,

Biases,

And actions.

No one realizes anything,

Shakespeare, like other poets and authors of the world, 

Has shown us the rare truth.

And in an earth where life is the stage, and we are the actors, lying and faking emotions that aren’t there,

The truth isn’t something we are used to seeing.

Maybe the devil had come between us as well.

Maybe with us always wrapped up in our own lives, 

We let this rage simmer and boil until it couldn’t possibly be faked anymore. 

Friends fell trying to stop it, 

And we fell feeding into our pettiness.

And just like with the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet,

No one ended up on top.

Audrey Chen is a fourteen year old poet and author, her literary works often reflecting on the themes and brutalities of real life. She is addicted to reading Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, and loves putting symbolism and metaphors into her writing.

Reflection

There once was a girl,

A girl who dreamed of a world with unicorns and such.

This girl was beautiful, but flawed

She saw her way of walking, her smile, even her laugh as a cherishing indifference.

In her world she was perfectly imperfect.

This girl grew and was now a teenager,

A teenager who broke and cracked

Took apart her body to find something, even just a mere glimpse of beauty.

Staring at the unwanted reflection in the circular long mirror that leaned on her wall

Taunting her with every glance.

The reflection that looks back at her with a frown.

There is a teenager girl,

She’s consciously imperfect.

There is a bully, seeking a defective smile, a wonky walk, or even an ounce of fat,

Tearing the young girl apart at the seams,

Destroying her once ever so beautiful perception,

Of herself.

There will be a woman.

She will look in the cracked reflection,

The reflection that has been staring back with devastation,

All these years,

Frowning.

There is a bully.

There is a teenage girl.

There once was a girl, who always saw the glow that outlined her from head to toe.

Skyler Kucowski is 17 years old and lives in Northeast Philadelphia with her parents, grandparents, and little sister. She loves animals and nature. She loves poetry: both reading and writing it. Poetry is her way of expressing herself and expressing her struggles and insecurities through a beautiful flow of words.

Safety in the Plants

Blue hues of the night scatter the outside

Big little windows peek on the sky, while sitting in the inside

A group of laughter hides within the room.

Plants from every corner dream to loom

Stacks of lies lay written inside.

A table that reads every lie

Which makes the plants laugh and cry.

The couch of wonders lingers the pain,

From a girl who never liked to play.

She sits on the destined couch,

Waiting for the room to shout

After all this kind of pain,

She wonders if the plants will laugh today?

Jazmyne Moseley is in eleventh grade and goes to Franklin Towne Charter High School. She likes to write poetry and short stories for fun. She also likes to read and build lego sets. Her favorite color is blue, and she enjoys living in quietness. She lives in Philadelphia, PA with her dog, Bailey, and her mom.

If I Ruled the World, Imagine that

Edifice poem in response to If I Ruled the World (Imagine That) by: Nas ft. Lauryn Hill

Life, I wonder 

Will they take us under?

Imagine walking around 

In fancy, flashy dresses,

plenty of people who 

actually wanna deal

with all the messes.

mothers and fathers, more conscious 

of who is talking to their daughters- 

and let’s not forget about the sons, 

who don’t wanna be one with society.

What the heck is this economy?

no one talks about their friends 

who wanna pretend like

they respect their elders, 

and listen to their mother and father,

but they really out here messing with somebody’s daughter. 

these kids might as well

feel like they some kind of foster 

no one around to help 

they’ll only do it when 

they see a whole bunch of wealth 

of course that’s why heads out here moving stealth 

cops harassing for unreasonable reasons 

let’s not forget about MLK, 

What did he say?

“This isn’t the way” I bet he’d say 

He had a dream, everyone got it all wrong, 

so it seems.

Stop worrying,

about the materialistic things,

remember when you and your friends, 

used to play on the playground and swings?

Being a jerk doesn’t show your worth.

It’s a serious crime,

the government wasting their time,

worrying about all the wrong people,

they’re the ones who know their equal.

World War II, this might as well be a sequel. 

Let’s bring peace to all the people. 

Mia Haas is 17 years old and lives in Pennsylvania. She has been expressing herself through poetry since she was 12 years old. She published her first poetry book on her 17th birthday. She enjoys music, playing sports, and loves performing arts.

A Man Named New York

What if he leaves 

What if one day he packs his suitcase 

And walks out the door 

I would floored 

The cement dripping down my chest onto the hardwood 

With broken plates scattered around me like a garden 

Flowers from the fight 

The light over the counter 

It’s all planted in my head 

Growing like weeds 

Vines in my hair and all down my arms 

What if he leaves 

Kisses me on the cheek and turns away 

Fading into the rain 

I’m left standing on the sidewalk 

Remembering that none of them ever stay 

Just me and my red raincoat in the blue city 

Slipping into a yellow taxi to take me back to an empty apartment 

The big apple took a big bite out of me 

Sweet, red rotted fruit when you left your key 

What if he leaves 

What if he left it all behind 

The kisses, the fights, the wonderfully wasted time 

He was the thread sewn through the skyscrapers 

Holding me together

He used to be put the city that never sleeps to bed 

But I’m forever awake in Manhattan 

A man named New York bustling in my head. 

Violet Binczewski is a sophomore at Mount Saint Joseph Academy. She is a published author, releasing a book of poetry in 2024 titled “The Ocean and Her Shadows” with Vanguard Press. She won the Patriot’s Pen Essay competition locally in 2019, and her work has been published in Notre Dame’s Preparatory School’s The Hampton Review, as well as Mount Saint Joseph Academy’s The Muse. She is also an editor of The Campanile, the student-generated news site of Mount Saint Joseph Academy. She lives in North Wales, PA with her family, and when she is not writing, she is usually reading or listening to Taylor Swift.