Original Poems by Some Of the Teens

Well hello there, long time no see!Today we are here to momentarily revive the blog with three original poems by Karissa, Caleb, and Alayna. Thanks for reading, enjoy!

The Beach in November

 By Karissa

By the age of nine, I was tired of the sea

With her dull gray shattering of incessant weight

Heavy against the limitless sky.

I was lonely among the muttering breakers,

Feeling the weight of the water on my skin,

Wishing I was dry and that my feet and hair

Were not crusted with salt;

And that my eyes were not hot,

My skin no longer charred to gold.

I returned to the sea, watched the grey sky,

And got lost among the lack of sharks’ teeth,

Wandering, in search of an answer,

In search of independence, or rather of a companion.

The sea, whispering, was like an old friend,

But in a photograph, colorless, empty,

And chilled, with November.

The shoreline was grey

With soaked seasand;

The sobbing of the ocean made it easy

To get lost inside myself, and I walked

Farther than I had in a long time,

Singing to drown her tears, and my thoughts.

Eventually, I found the beach house,

Set apart by her peeling white spiral of steps.

To the Revolutionaries:

By Caleb

Hello there, and greetings 

Here are your statements that I have just been reading

I’ve found them quite interesting

With lots of ideas they are contesting

But I do still have some questions 

The answers to which will soothe my intestines 

You say that you are fighting 

For justice against tyranny

And yet in everything you do 

There is a certain lack of equality

Your statement says, and I quote

“We only want to help the people”

But anything you do of note

Causes the people’s hope to crumple 

Almost daily I hear you say

“We are only doing what is right”

And yet it really seems to me 

That you’re looking for a fight

I am told that what you’re doing

Is “For common good”

But even when you say you tried your best

You never accomplish what you should 

In short:

Although you make an excellent point

Your policies and actions

Are rather out of joint

And though you might profess 

To be doing what is best 

I think I’ll wait and take my time

Before destroying what isn’t mine.

Snowball

                                         By Alayna

Round and furry,

Soft  on  the  outside,

Concealing   a   sharp,  icy

Heart.   Tenderly   crafted   by

Clumsy mitten fingers, arm heaves

Back as a catapult  and thunk-splat,

Disintegrates back to powder upon

Reaching  the  unlucky  victim’s

Jacket sleeve.  He turns and

Scoops more ammunition-

A war has begun.