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Pray for the People in Camden

With pale blue eyes and cropped red hair,
She is a fixture in these parts.
72 pounds and no way to gain,
Heavy blankets of despair
Drape over her frail body,
Swallowing her,
She has no hope.

Her name is Mary,
But so few know.
They don’t care.
Her pain.
Never realizing,
They are practically the same,
Lost in their own struggles
Amongst several others
In this big city.

The sun begins to set,
But she has nowhere to go.
So many directions,
But none seem right.
A cool breeze,
The leaves change.
Most would be happy; fall is here.
But to her,
This only means
Winter is ahead.
Cold brisk wind
Sends a chill.
All alone.

A woman in her forties,
With a blanket over her shoulders
And a tear in her eye
Because
There is only so much
Warmth
That she can get from her pockets,
And there is only so much
A plastic bag can hold.

A man in his fifties,
With a cross around his neck
And an extra dollar in his pocket,
His chin held high.
A proud smile
That hides his secrets
And his shame.

Two worlds collide,
Never to be the same again.
He hands her a five-dollar bill
With a card on top.
It’s the size of her palm,
A little crumpled in the corner,
A tear at the top,
With a few unforgettable lines:
A prayer

 

 

Ali Binder is a 10th-grade student at Haverford High School. She is in the school orchestra and loves being a part of the color guard with the competition marching band. She is passionate about service and is an active member at her church. This is her first piece to be published.

The Tearful Alligator

The tearful alligator
traveled as the breeze blew
in Siberia.

The alligator is happy when
the sun comes out
and goes in the lake.

The alligator is sad when
it rains, and his friends
don’t play with him.

One day,
he went to his friends’
home to ask them to play.

They said yes, and
they played tag.
The alligator was feeling good!

 

 

Jordan J. was a Mighty Writer in the 2nd grade and is remembered for her smile and meticulous attention to detail. She’s now in 5th or 6th grade but left this poem in the Mighty Writer’s archives. She attended the program daily when she lived in South Philadelphia and is now believed to be in a ‘writer at large’ in Germantown.

Memorized

It’s glued inside forever
told
Real and natural
It’s hard to forget, I won’t
that’s for sure because great
memories are obviously pure.

 

Juwaireyah Dorsey is a 4th grader at Universal Institute Charter School. She is also a student at Mighty Writers.

Boy

Boy
reflector
17, 1950
could fly like
tsunami like
California breeze high school
with gusto, but blend in
weird / different / unique
bullied, smaller
reads comics
part chameleon and rich, but
doesn’t like dressing rich, and
yellow / blue eyes like
cuban russian danish
invisiblend
gray black and silver suit like spider man
has to protect just his friend / girlfriend so
he grows eagle wings

 

 

Azariah Collins is in the 4th grade and likes to write at Mighty Writers. She also likes cheerleading and lives with her three brothers, one sister, and her parents. Azariah is proud of her Greek, Indian, and African American heritage.

Daddy

Nurse, musician
guiding, loving , laughing
best dad in the universe
Father.

 

Maggie MacLean is 7 years old. Her favorite things to do are reading, crafting, and playing with make-up. She loves to eat lunch meat, tacos, burgers, and anything sweet.

Praying Mantis Pod

Brown, dry, crinkly
Camouflaged like a spy in dark glasses and a trench coat
300 babies in a teeny tiny space
They will drop out with no sound, leaving behind an empty pod
I hope I get to see just one
Because finding a praying mantis is cool
Nature is magical
Everywhere I look I find clues
To the secret world that lives all around me

 

Connor Simpkins, age 7, is a 1st grader at Penn Wynne Elementary School. He enjoys being outside in nature, reading, rhyming words, and building Legos.

My Hero: City Year’s Writing Contest 7th grade winner

Who do I consider to be a hero? Well, to me a hero is someone who will take a bullet for me or someone who will stand up for me and have my back even if no one else does. Also a hero, in my opinion, is someone who, if I call their name at any time, will come running to rescue me. In addition, a hero is someone who will risk their life to save yours. But a hero does not always have to help you physically; a hero can help you emotionally, too. Therefore, my hero is my dad.

One reason I consider my dad a hero is because he is very helpful. Even if my dad is very busy doing work he will stop what he is doing to help me. One time I was at school and I sprained my ankle. So my dad came all the way from his job in the middle of the day and took me to the doctor. This is significant to me because it shows me that, no matter what, he will always be there for me and that nothing else matters to him but me. Clearly, my dad is heroic through his helpfulness.

In addition, I consider my dad to be heroic because he is brave. My dad has proven to my family and me that he is not afraid of anything. In Philadelphia and New York we had hurricane Sandy. As a result of the storm, New York was flooded and lost power, so my dad volunteered to go to New York for his job to help restore power. This shows he is daring because he was willing to go through the flood into the darkness and mess with the electricity, not to mention leaving his family behind. Therefore, I would consider my father to be a hero.

In conclusion, heroes are all around us, but my hero is my father. My father can best be characterized as heroic because he is not afraid of anything, and he is always willing to drop what he is doing to help others around him. My dad is also kind and protective. Because of all of his positive characteristics, my dad is my HERO.

 

Mya Mills is a 7th grader at Mastery Charter Shoemaker Campus. She is a very trustworthy, sup- portive and dependable young woman. Always one for creativity, she loves to try new things. When around her, she’ll always have you laughing.

My Hero: City Year’s Writing Contest 9th grade winner

March 1st 2014, midafternoon, I peruse the instructions for this prompt and stare misty-eyed at crimson pictures of Superman on Google. “Who do I consider to be a hero?” is the question that I continuously ask myself. The next question that arrives more simply is—what is a hero? What being a hero entails for me is straightforward: an ordinary individual who is admired for their ethics and achievements, one who leaves a lasting impression on someone’s life. I would definitely consider my mother to be my hero. I am aware that billions of teenagers and children around the world venerate their parents for giving them life, however my mother has impacted my life in a way that I could never truly express. My mother is my hero because she gave me confidence within myself and encouraged me that I could do anything in this vast world we inhabit.

To begin with, my mother has made a significant impact on my life because she has given me something that no one can ever take away from me—confidence. Teenagers today, and specifically young women, are plagued by society’s superficial ideal of what beauty truly is. It’s everywhere you can possibly think of: billboards, television, magazines, and campaigns. Basically, this ideal gives young women the impression that if you don’t fit the qualifications, then you are lesser. Diversity is nonexistent, and it’s easy to be consumed in this twisted game of acceptance. My mother, my hero, would be the only person by my side in the toughest of situations to remind me that I was a beautiful person inside and out. I can honestly say that she loved me before I even knew how to love myself. I can vividly remember those faithful nights when I felt like the worst version of myself, and yet, her calming voice would captivate me, saying, “You have a beautiful smile, eyes, nose, lips…” She would list things for minutes, all the things she deemed “perfect,” until I felt like a completely new individual. It’s the simplest of things that I appreciate the most. If my hero had never given me confidence, then I can honestly say that I wouldn’t be the person I am today. Confidence isn’t only being sure of yourself, but being sure of your decisions in life. My mother is my hero for making me constantly feel like a beautiful person.

Moreover, my mother is my hero because she continues to encourage me that I can do anything in life. A wise man once wrote, “There’s nothing better than having someone believe in you.” When it comes to my hero, she’s the only individual who believes in my abilities and my future. I always grew up with the notion that I could do anything I put my mind to; I thought this was the typical saying for all parents, but some children aren’t encouraged to try such a wide range of things. In other words, they are told they can succeed in their parents’ footsteps, or as far as reality allows. My hero always had a way of making me feel special; my mother would tell me that God has something amazing planned for me. I still believe every second of it. My mother inspires me through her beliefs in me to succeed. I cannot yet explain how my hero’s encouragement impacts my life in the future yet, presently speaking, her encouragement has led me to try new things. In her eyes, I can never fail.

In conclusion, my mother is my hero because she makes me feel beautiful inside and out, and she supports and encourages me in every decision I make.

 

 

Dominique Brodie-Wilson is an excellent student in the 9th grade. She was born and raised in West Philadelphia and her favorite subjects are literature and history. Her aspiration is to inspire people and her main goal in life is to make a living doing some- thing that she loves.

My Hero: City Year’s Writing Contest 8th grade winner

A hero isn’t just someone who rips off his or her clothes in the pounding climax of a crime to fly off and save someone. A hero doesn’t have to have super strength. A hero is someone who is brave and makes a positive change in someone’s life, sometimes without even knowing what they have done. I’ve met a lot of people in my life so far, and they’ve all allowed me to experience different feelings and perspectives; however, there is one person who has left a significant impact on my life—Natalie. When I was in the fourth grade, I met my friend Natalie. Unfortunately, towards the end of our school year in sixth grade, she was diagnosed with scoliosis. Scoliosis is a medical condition in which a person’s spine is curved from side to side, rather than a straight line. This condition affected the way she was able to sit, stand, and even complete daily interactions with her friends. I consider Natalie to be my hero because she didn’t let scoliosis take control of her life and how she treated people.
When I think about Natalie, one event in particular that comes to mind is when she first told me about her diagnosis. We were sitting at lunch, and she said it so confidently and casually that it seemed as if it weren’t true. She wasn’t sad or depressed; it was like she came across a challenge that she gratefully accepted. I couldn’t understand how someone with a hazardous condition could be so calm. Although it became difficult to complete normal tasks, Natalie didn’t allow her life to be taken over by the fact that she had scoliosis. Because of that, I think highly of her. She could have created a bubble between her world and the outside world, yet she pushed through the hard times.
Another specific thing that comes to mind when I think of Natalie is her tactfulness. Before I found out about her diagnosis, she was always kind and nice. Even when I could see a sharp flash of pain across her face, she was patient and considerate to the people by whom she was surrounded. I remember when she told me that she needed to have surgery. I was completely freaking out and worried; thoughts of all of the possible things that could go wrong blasted through my mind. However, Natalie was relaxed. She was the one reassuring me, when I should have been reassuring her that everything was going to be fine. There was a soothing rhythm that came out when she spoke that washed all of my worries down the drain. She was open and honest with people, and she was always smiling and laughing, no matter how dry a joke was.
With that being said, I consider Natalie to be my hero because she showed a vast amount of maturity and consideration that I wish I had at that age. Until I met Natalie, I thought that heroes had to have capes and bad guys to fight off; however, now, with her help, I realize that a hero can be anyone.

 

 

Destiny Samuel is in Eighth grade. She aspires to be a successful author one day. In her free time Destiny is an avid reader, writer and loves taking care of her younger sister.

The Modern Gift of the Magi

Five dollars and eighty-three cents. That was all. And three of those dollars were in nickels. Cents and dollars saved one and four at a time by searching under the cushions and in the hospital kitchen. Five times Cassidy counted it. Five dollars and eighty-three cents. And the next day would be Cassidy and James’s one-year anniversary.

There was clearly nothing to do but to flop down on the hospital bed and scream into a pillow. So naturally, Cassidy did just that, which brings you to the conclusion that the moral reflection of life is full of sobs, storms of rage, and smiles, with the storms predominating.

While the young teenage girl passes through the first stage to the second, take a look around the dreary setting. A hospital room furnished like all the other 245 rooms in the building. It did not exactly have a description of wealth, but who needs luxuries in a patient room?

In the waiting room below, was a nurse who had yet today (and yesterday) let a family visit the poor teenage girl. The mother and father bearing the last name of “O’Leary.”

The name “O’Leary” had never been full of wealth, but the household at one point was close to making the average American income. When their one and only daughter was diagnosed with Leukemia hard times fell upon the family. Mr. and Mrs. O’Leary both had to get two jobs. Then Mr. O’Leary lost his first job. So, Mrs. O’Leary had to get a third job while her husband was looking for another source of income. But whenever Mr. Dean O’Leary came home to his wife, the financial worries were lost in a sea of certainty.

Now Cassidy had a man to call her own, a man named James Abbott. They met in tenth grade and had been dating for almost a year. This was why she needed a gift for her boyfriend. Cassidy finished her tantrum (which the nurses would later scold her for because it was not good for her condition) and wiped her two waterfalls with the back of her hand. Her heavy crying had created red, puffy marks under her eyes. The tears had spilled over her eyes like waves and surfed her face until they reached the sand or the pillow, which was pressed against her sullen face. She moved into a sitting position and looked around her room, which she had resided in for the past few months. Her parents could barely afford the grey wall, which she stared at, the grey tiles the nurses claimed she was not allowed to walk alone on, and the dull grey sheets of her even more grey bed that she had to be in every hour of every day. The only time she was allowed to leave her uncomfortable bed (which gave her a stiff back) was when she was going to another room to get poked at with shiny utensils that reeked of disinfectant spray. The nurses, doctors, and even her parents tried to hide the fact that she was dying. But she knew; it was her body after all.

Her mother and father felt guilty because they could not provide the money to keep her alive. Cassidy felt bad about this, because it really was not their fault.

Cassidy looked to her left and saw the IV that peeked from under her pale skin. Her reflection shined in the metal tube that held the bag. Her eyes were shining brightly, but her face had lost color weeks and weeks ago. Rapidly she looked down at a charm bracelet resting on her wrist.

Now there is one possession that Cassidy was proud of. It was a bracelet that her great grandmother, grandmother, and her mother had sported before it was passed down to her. It was a diamond-encrusted chain with four small charms on it. A charm had been added by each owner, except for Cassidy. Had Queen Elizabeth II of Great Britain checked into the room next door, every time she was wheeled to surgery Cass would make sure to dangle her charms just to depreciate Her Majesty’s numerous articles of jewels.

Now James had a possession of his own. His father had given him the extravagant and expensive family ring. James would joke that if Bill Gates were his housemaid, he would drool at the idea of how much money that ring costs.

So now as the dying teen dangled her charms, she knew what she had to do. She faltered for a minute, but she knew the consequences. She picked up her ancient iPhone 3 (which was her first and only phone) and dialed up someone who would take her into town.

Thirty minutes later, James’s mom entered her room. Her parents were working their multiple jobs so they could not come. But Mrs. Abbott would do anything for Cass (who she claimed was her daughter) and going into town was a wish she would grant. The reluctant and skeptical nurses signed Cassidy out but warned her to sit and rest if she felt out of breath. Cass rolled her eyes and promised with little to none enthusiasm.

Cassidy relished the smell of fresh air as she stepped outside. She never feels the direct daylight anymore, but a distorted version shines through the old windows that never seems to cheer her up. She could have jumped for joy at the sight of the sun, but she did not have the energy. In other words, this was the best day ever.

“Cass, dear, where do you want to go first?” asked the older woman.

“A place where I can sell this…” the teenager pulled out the box in which a familiar bracelet was kept.

“Honey! You cannot sell that! You love that thing!”

“I do not care, I have to get something nice for your son. And I do whatever it takes to get something for loved ones!”

When they arrived at the store a dingy sign read “I SELL CASH FOR GOLD”. Cass sighed and opened the door. A middle-aged man sat on a stool behind the glass cage. His hair as greasy as a deep fryer. His eyes flashing with excitement at the box in her hands. Cass summoned all the courage she had in her weak body and walked all the way into the shop.

“Hello, I would like to sell my bracelet,” she stated.

“Well, you came to the right place. Now let me see,” he rubs his hands as she takes it out, “Ah, this is very nice. I will give you four hundred dollars for it.”

“Four hundred? I will take that!” Cass exclaims.

For the next hour or so, Cass enters shop after shop, but cannot find anything for her dear James. James’s mother convinces her to rest before they head to another store. Cassidy stresses that time is running out, but the older woman will not hear it. As they sit on a bench the younger girl wants to cry in frustration. She surveys her surroundings for something to buy. She is losing daylight and she knows it. An adorable toddler waddles by, clinging onto his mother like she is a lifeline. Cassidy watches the child until he passes a store she never saw. There it was, the perfect gift for James. It was a simple but had a quietness and value that was much like her boyfriend. It was perfect. James always complained that his ring was going to fall off when he played a sport but never got around to getting a chain so he could put it around his neck. She had finally found a good chain for him. Upon further inspection, she realized that she could add a message on a thin metal circle that attached to the silver chain. She quickly bought the gift and the two women hurried to the hospital.

The next day James walked eagerly into the room. He surveyed the dull room until he saw the spark that was Cassidy. She looked as radiant as the stars to James. But one thing looked off to him, she was not wearing her bracelet.

“James!” She smiled, “you are here!”

“Hi Cassidy,” he walked over and gave her a hug.

“Open this…” she shoved a velvety purple box at him. James opened the box to find the chain. He knew what it was for and it really was perfect, but his eyes held regret.

“What is there something wrong? Is the engraving wrong? I can return it if you do not want it,” Cass rapidly exclaimed when she saw his face.

“No, it is perfect, thank you,” he smiled, “but I sold my ring to buy you a charm for your bracelet and to…”

“Oh, James! That is super nice and all, but I sold my bracelet to buy you your present.”

James enfolded Cassidy in a tight hug anyway. For ten seconds, they stare at a trivial object that faces the other way. Five dollars and eighty-three cents or a million dollars- what is the difference? A mathematician or genius would give the logical, yet wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This will be explained later.

James handed Cassidy her present and she opened it. It was a beautiful charm that Cassidy had told James she wanted. It was diamond-encrusted heart and on the back was the letters “C+J”.

“This is beautiful,” Cassidy cried, “but I no longer have my bracelet.”

“And your chain you gave me was beautiful, but I no longer have a ring,” James replied, “Cass let’s put our presents away for now and keep them for a while. They are too nice to use at the present. But I have to tell you something.”

“Alright I will save my present. But please tell me!”

“I had extra money from the ring…I am going to pay for your medical bills!”
At this moment Cass bursts into tears. Instead of sobs and storms of rage, smiles are predominating. She was going to be alright. She pulled James into a hug and they cried for a long time.

Years before you, Cass, James, and I were put on the earth, there were three men who brought gifts to baby Jesus in the manger. The three men are known as wise men or the magi. Because of them, the art of exchanging Christmas presents was born. The magi’s gifts were sensible and caring indeed. The point of this story is to retell the modern tale of two children who are in love that most unwisely gave away their greatest possessions for each other’s happiness. But let the most experienced of them hear this. Cass and James are the wisest when it comes to giving and receiving gifts. In every situation, time, place, or hospital room they are the wisest. Cass and James are your modern magi.

 

 

Emily Mahaffy is in seventh grade and loves to read. Her favorite book series include Harry Potter and The Mysterious Benedict Society. She also spends most of her free time playing field hockey. She lives with her younger sister in Haddon Heights, NJ.