Us Overload

We’re comin’ through ur speaker

Runnin’ through ur town

We’re pourin’ through ur headphones

And ur eyes are turnin’ brown.

We’re pumping up the volume

And we can’t be stopped!

Ur brain is leakin’ out ur ears

Ur head’s about to pop.

This is on Us!

An Us Overload.

And u better run for cover

‘Cuz we’re about to explode

Said it’s on Us!

An Us Overload.

And ur mother’s gonna shudder

When us writers hit the road.

The pressure’s buildin’ up now

And we’re about to burst out!

Rockin’ stadiums, gymnasiums,

If ur feelin’ us, shout!

Yes, it’s an Us!

An Us Overload.

And u ain’t been this

covered since the last time it snowed.

Spongmay Khan is in the sixth grade and loves to write raps. He really wants to be a rapper when he grows up (or even right now)!

Hands Up, Don’t Shoot

      Hands up, don’t shoot

Stop the unnecessary violence

Plain innocent people getting shot

By the cops,

And I thought they were supposed to protect us.

Hands up, don’t shoot

May 16th, 2010

A little girl is lying in her house

The cops come in looking for someone else

They see her and pow!

Hands up, don’t shoot

I’m walking down the street with my all-

black hoodie, just got back from the store

I turn around and pow!

I get shot and killed, and he gets away free.

Hands up, don’t shoot

It’s sad to say we live in a generation

Where a cop can go out and shoot an innocent person

And get away like nothing happened

Hands up, dont shoot

Oh wait, it’s too late…

Azariah Collins attends Girard Academic Music Academy in South Philadelphia. She is in the fifth grade and is a dancer, actress, and published poet. She has been with Mighty Writers for four years.


Time, time is the key

Time is something you can stop

Time is a part of our life

Time is what we waste or spend

Time is order

Time is like a force in a jar that can’t be held

Time is you

Time is something that your mind won’t understand

So what is time itself?

Time is the answer…



Caleb Bryant is a fifth grade student at Universal Institute Charter School in South Philly. This is his first year with Mighty Writers and he is a budding philosopher, poet and painter. He expects to play for the NBA after finishing college.

Winter Explored

As white as sugar

as cold as ice

slippery and sparkly

oh, isn’t it nice

Soft, small, silent flakes

falling like tiny feathers

woosh, wash big winds

causing outrageous weather

Drinking hot chocolate

in a warm nice house,

slurping sugary marshmallows,

listening for a mouse

Smelling the smoky

firewood burn

as winter arrives

there will be no more ferns

Bundled up

cozy and tight

there’s no way

you will get frostbite

Winter is fun,

it’s cold all day

it’s nice to stay

outside and play,

No more staying

inside all bored

winter is waiting

to be explored.



Juwaireyah is 10 years old and is in the fifth grade at Universal Institute Charter School. Her favorite color is blue and her favorite subject is science. She wants to be either a doctor or a cosmetologist when she grows up. 


We shine like LED lights

Glimmering like sparkle dusted stars

Our smiles like pearls

But nothing is more golden than our hearts



Suaad is a young writer who mainly enjoys poetry and deep novels with lots of mystery, which are her inspiration for her stories and poems. She also loves to help others improve their writing by using her pieces as inspiration, hoping that one day they, too, will love writing.

My Rain

I’m your cloud and you’re my rain

I keep you floating and you drive me insane

We’re totally different, yet we’re the same

I’m your cloud and you’re my rain

You shower me with your input

I assure that you’re on your feet

You make sure I’m never in pain and I do the same

I’m your cloud and you’re my rain

One day we will share glory and fame

And I will give you credit even though sometimes you can be a pain

I don’t know what would have happened if we didn’t meet

Sisters we resemble, you and I

Watching you trickle beside me makes me smile

I am your cloud and you are my rain



Suaad is a young writer who mainly enjoys poetry and deep novels with lots of mystery, which are her inspiration for her stories and poems. She also loves to help others improve their writing by using her pieces as inspiration, hoping that one day they, too, will love writing.


She’s in front of you on the swings at the carnival

And you’re behind her

she’s having the time of her life

(and you guess you are, too—

She’s gorgeous when she laughs like that)

she reaches back a hand to take yours

you stretch out a hand, too                                          (you think she’s going to save you)

But she’s just a little too far                                                                                        (she can’t) away to reach you

So she pulls her hand back                                                                              (she won’t even try) and turns around

Giving up

And you return to watching her

Not so enthusiastically as before

Emma Paolini is in 10th grade and lives in Medford, New Jersey with her three siblings and dog. She enjoys reading and writing as well as competing on her school’s mock trial team. Emma also loves seeing Broadway musicals and going to concerts.


The whispers seep through the heat vents from the metro station and flutter into my ear

In commanding voices they talk to me

Angry, mean, sad, comforting, scary

Racing through my mind, exploring every nook and cranny

As I yell and fight the voices,

the few stragglers left, mainly partiers and low-lifes, like myself,

scurry along the dirty sidewalks

Like cockroaches

They walk right on past me with the occasional fearful glance

Thinking that my outbursts of swinging fists and trembling screams are my fault

That I’m the culprit

Not knowing that I was once like them, before my mind was alienated from me by the voices

Their ignorance seeps inside my soul further degrading me

As I try to recollect the few fragments of sanity

I feel the rough concrete and rusted metal under my thumb

rubbing away at it as if it will help

when I truly know that only home will help

but those memories of warm chicken soup and the smell of the gas stove being lit and the feel of adjusting the thermostat have all seeped away through the years

their sweetness being steeped into the harsh outside

like tea in lukewarm water

I try to fall back asleep

but each voice is its own alarm clock

Jolting my awake with another hurtful word

I tell them to shut up for once, but they are not good listeners

Forcefully I burrow myself into my slightly damp blankets and try to snuggle up closer to the side of the train station

Like always, that does not help

After hours of fighting

The sun approaches and I realize sleep has left me out like everything else

not even its warm embrace dares to touch me

only the voices are their for me, for better or for worse



Pryce Davies is in the ninth grade at Haverford High School. He enjoys playing soccer, competing in the competition band, reading, and spending time with his family.

The Art of Growing Up Without Realizing It

“Our bodies are made of stars” she read.

“Our bodies are littered in scars” she said.

There’s seven billion on one planet

and eight planets orbiting the sun.

So how can one thing so small

mean such a something to someone?

Day by day nothing is different but,

looking back it all has changed.

Like how roller turned to razor when talking about blades,

and smoke that once puffed from the chimney

is now dancing off cigarettes,

and sorry but ‘sorry’ doesn’t stick

when your glue is made from regrets.

So put your lipstick on right, pretty girl

or he won’t want you the right way,

and oh don’t put on too much, silly girl

or you’ll be asking for it, no matter how little you say.

Play pretending was much simpler, when the dragon was a cardboard box

now Romeo is not at your window, but he sure as hell is throwing rocks.

That scary monster never left she just crawled out from under the bed,

and she’s so much harder to find now that she’s swimming in your head.

She lingers on tongues and leaps from lips

and soon enough she’s screaming ‘sl*t’

because of the way you sway your hips.

“Our bodies are littered with scars” she said

but keep acting like you don’t care how you’ve grown.

There’s seven billion surrounding us

and we’re pretending to not feel alone.

Closure Never Comes Fast Enough

Cracked lips, bleeding gums,

Devilish grins, dishonest tongues

Hushed whispers, desperate wishes,

Despising lovers, meaningless kisses

Wait another day, maybe two more,

But still, he’ll walk on out the door

Knees buckled, a heart dropped,

Crumpled in the corner waiting for rain to stop

Bruised knees and battered hips,

Comforting words through lying lips

Wiped away chances, smudged, blackened tears,

Throwing your love away after three whole years

A heart shatters into splinters and fragments,

Tripping over your tongue but still remaining stagnant

An overwhelming silence in the dead of night,

Trying to speak but there’s not a breath left to fight

So this is it: what is supposed to be the sweetest, final hour,

A bit of closure, yet it still tastes sour

Dominique Kendus is a 9th grader living in Wilmington, DE with her twin sister. She loves to write poetry and listen to music, as well as play soccer with her sister.