Summer 2011 • $5
The Charles Hart Middle School Literary Magazine

The hArtworks Editorial Board
Writers-in-Residence: Dwayne Betts, Derrick Weston Brown, Alan King, and Nancy Schwalb
The Literary Magazine Club: Luqman Abdullah, Maryum Abdullah, Makayla Abernathy, Abdull Ali,
Muhammad Ali, Ineka Armstead, Lakiya Bailey, Marcus Barnes, Sharri Barnes, Amira Bean,
Nakia Better, Stelita Better, Kaitlyn Bowman, Mate’o Branch, Aaron Brooks, Steven Brown, Jessica
Carpenter, Ashley Cooper, Alexis Croom, DeArren Dawkins, Joshua Dunmore, Gregory Edelin,
Daiquon Felder, Seleen Ford, Bruce Gibson, Janine Green, Shadajah Groone, Marcus Johnson,
Michael Johnson, Khalil Jones, Myron Jones, Robin Jones, Damon Kee, Nichell Kee, Shawntay
Kent, Mekale Kibler, Priscilla Kirkland, Yukari Lee, Johnathan Lewis, Edward Marshall, Ishiah
Mayo, David McIntyre, Kevin Morton, Kee’Shawn Murphy, Kiana Murphy, Kirk Murphy,
Mark Neal, Saquan Palmore, Michael Parker, Kierra Parks, Mariah Parmely, Steven Reed,
Me’aza Esad Rivers, Rashad Rosenboro, Cristal Sandoval, James Saunders, Gregory Seymour,
Patrice Simpson, Traayyona Sitton, Monae Smith, Raymond Stitt, Herman Stokes, Ta’Qiya
Stroman, Takael Stroman, Andre Thomas, Michael Thomas, Lakeisha Thompson, James Tindle,
Jaynise Vandervort, Marqueta Vandervort, Brittany Watkins, Maria Watkins, Aaron Williams,
Alonte Williams, Rahsheen Williams, Renita Williams, Sequan Wilson, A’Breale Wortham,and Zinquarn Wright
Front Cover, l-r: Renita Williams, Michael Johnson, Cer’cia Wallace

2 Inside Front Cover, l-r: Lakeisha Thompson, Nancy Schwalb, Aaron Brooks, David McIntyre, Abdull Ali,
Steven Reed, Maria Watkins, Daiquon Felder, Bruce Gibson, Alan KingIntroductionW

elcome to the 30th edition of hArtworks, the nation’s only inner-city public middle
school literary magazine, written and edited by the students in the after-school writing
club at Charles Hart Middle School. hArtworks is published through a collaborative effort
between the school and the D.C. Creative Writing Workshop, an independent non-profit working
to create a literary renaissance in Southeast Washington. Now in its eleventh year, hArtworks
gives our young writers the opportunity to exercise their creative energies, speak their minds,
and be read by an audience throughout the city. The 2011 edition of Poet’s Market recognizes
hArtworks as “an outstanding example of what a literary journal can be (for anyone of any age).”
We have many friends who have helped to make hArtworks possible, and we would like toexpress our gratitude to them. Our sincerest thanks go out to the Morris and Gwendolyn Cafritz
Foundation, Catalogue for Philanthropy, Commonweal Foundation, Community Foundation
for the National Capital Region, D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities, Horning Family
Fund, International Monetary Fund, Marpat Foundation, Moran Family Fund, New York Avenue
Foundation, Prince Charitable Trusts, Luther I. Replogle Foundation, Spring Creek Foundation,
Hattie M. Strong Foundation, The Thomas Circle Singers, The Tom Lane Fund, Wachovia
Foundation, Weissberg Foundation, The World Bank, Anonymous, Sarah Booth and Bloomberg
L.P., Wells Fargo Home Mortgage, GO! Creative, LLC, the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum, theArena Stage, the Shakespeare Theatre, Woolly Mammoth Theater, McGuire Williams Associates,
Joyce Page and Ms. Printing, Tollefson and Company Investment Management, our friends
at Popeye’s on Malcolm X Avenue, Sally and Tersh Boasberg, Dickson Carroll, Janet Horgen,
Joseph and Lynn Horning, Gay and Charles Lord, Cameron Sanders, Joan Shorey, andLadislaus von Hoffmann.
Our intern James Saunders also deserves our thanks for giving so much of his time and energy to
our after-school Writing Club, as do our volunteers, Joseph Hudson and Daquan Johnson.
Special thanks for the hard work and dedication of the D.C. Creative Writing Workshop Boardof Directors: Dr. John Walton Cotman, Dr. Susan Gerson, Brian Gilmore, Helen Hooper,
Bernie Horn, Bill Newlin, and Nancy Schwalb.
We would also like to thank the following administrators, teachers, and staff who are ourpartners in this endeavor: Principal Billy Kearny; Assistant Principals Ms. Crystal Cartwright,
Ms. Lisa Faulkner-Jones, and Dr. Sharon Piner; Mr. Travis Barnwell, Ms. Lisa Body Davenport,
Ms. Nijma Esad, Ms. Gloria Fergusson, Mr. Matthew Komar, Ms. Caryn Voskuil, Ms. Aldridge,
Ms. Eleanor Seale, Ms. Ron’Treece Gibson, Ms. Sherry Dailey, and Ms. Ann Brogioli.

InsideMaryum Abdullah
The Difference ...........................................................................................................................32
Abdull Ali
Hit Me and Run ......................................................................................................................... 38
On the Bus ................................................................................................................................. 41
Muhammad Ali
My Old House .............................................................................................................................. 2
Blazing ...................................................................................................................................... 49
Alexis Avery
Raised By Women ......................................................................................................................15
Marcus Barnes
Different..................................................................................................................................... 37
Fever Dream .............................................................................................................................. 48
Sharri Barnes
Dancing, Singing and Rap ...........................................................................................................3
Can You Hear My Soul? ............................................................................................................ 39
Amira Bean
Dehydrated-Dehydration .............................................................................................................8
Nakia Better
The Worst Job ............................................................................................................................47
Abigail Bibb
Unexpected .................................................................................................................................. 6
Not Now ...................................................................................................................................... 7
Too Far ........................................................................................................................................ 8
Favorite Color: Green ................................................................................................................21
Body Town ................................................................................................................................. 28
Kaitlyn Bowman
Scorching ................................................................................................................................... 13
Favorite Color: Guess ................................................................................................................21
Steven Brown, Jr.
Non-Progressing Life .................................................................................................................39
Jessica Carpenter
Mirror Image/The Beautiful Similarities ...................................................................................36
Single Leaf ................................................................................................................................. 41
On the bus ................................................................................................................................. 42
CheYonne Dickens
I Was Raised ..............................................................................................................................19
Joshua Dunmore
I Can’t Take the Heat .................................................................................................................50
Gregory Edelin
Wasted Life ................................................................................................................................36
Brandi Ennis
Not Today .................................................................................................................................... 9
Daiquon Felderalone .......................................................................................................................................... 37

Seleen Ford
Unraveling the Truth .................................................................................................................42
Remember .................................................................................................................................. 44
Summer ..................................................................................................................................... 50
Rene Frangel
Poetry Should… ........................................................................................................................13
Deamonte Gibson
I am ........................................................................................................................................... 20
Shadajah Groone
Archaeology ...............................................................................................................................46
Heat ........................................................................................................................................... 48
JoVante Hall
I Was Raised By Women ..............................................................................................................3
Alyssa Hester
My Unknown .............................................................................................................................15
Brittany Jenifer
Inside ......................................................................................................................................... 25
Michael Johnson
Difference .................................................................................................................................. 34
One Stop .................................................................................................................................... 43
The Last Football Game ............................................................................................................44
Myron Jones
The last time I gave .....................................................................................................................5
Neighbor .................................................................................................................................... 33
Robin Jones
The Last Time ............................................................................................................................ 25
Nichell Kee
Unwanted .................................................................................................................................. 34
Bus Ride to School ..................................................................................................................... 40
Johnathan Lewis
A Terrible Job .............................................................................................................................46
The Heat and Immunity.............................................................................................................51
Mary Lewis
I Was Raised ..............................................................................................................................19
Nyelle Marshall
The Crazy Heat!........................................................................................................................48
David McIntyre
My Body as a Football Stadium................................................................................................. 27
Davina McKinnon
Harvested................................................................................................................................... 10
Kiana Murphy
Becoming ................................................................................................................................... 12
Kirk Murphy
The Worst Job Ever .................................................................................................................... 47
Adewale Oluwakemi
A Hot Sunny Day....................................................................................................................... 11InsideYunique O’Neil
Raised By Women ......................................................................................................................16
Godmother................................................................................................................................. 24
Arnché Owens
I Didn’t Mean To ........................................................................................................................10
Michael Parker
Cry for Help ..............................................................................................................................38
Changes ..................................................................................................................................... 51
Mariah Parmely
I am The Book ........................................................................................................................... 16
Ivory Quarles
Poetry Should ...........................................................................................................................25
Shaukeria Reese
What For ................................................................................................................................... 17
Kiyon Robles
I Was Raised By ......................................................................................................................... 17
Rashad Rosenboro
I’m Done .................................................................................................................................... 35
Dang, It’s Hot! ...........................................................................................................................52
Russell Rountree
Body of Atlanta..........................................................................................................................23
Cristal Sandoval
I Know You (Who Am I?) ............................................................................................................ 4
My Friend .................................................................................................................................. 14
For My Peoplez ......................................................................................................................... 18
Switch ........................................................................................................................................ 20
Hit and Run ...............................................................................................................................31
James Saunders
Same Difference .........................................................................................................................32
Tyric Saunders
Bright Lights: My Body As A Crime Scene ................................................................................24
Monique Simpson
The Only Thing Left to Do........................................................................................................... 9
My Body’s A Large Amusement Park .........................................................................................27
Traanna Sitton
The Difference .............................................................................................................................2
5 Mothers .................................................................................................................................. 18
Poetry Should Be Loud and Bold ...............................................................................................22
To Beckon Her ...........................................................................................................................29
Samara Smith
Cornbread.................................................................................................................................... 6
Sterling Smith
Broken Sun .................................................................................................................................. 7
Ta’Qiya Stroman
Colors: Black .............................................................................................................................19
Can’t Stand It.............................................................................................................................49
The Last Time ............................................................................................................................ 52

Andre Thomas
Rewind.......................................................................................................................................
...........................................................................
.....43
433
Football .....................................................................................................................................
..........
................................................................................ 45
Mychael Thomas
Remember ..................................................................................................................................
........
... ............
.. ......
.................................... ......................... .......
..... ...... 21
Lakeisha Thompson
Time ............................................................................................................................................
.............
...............
.......
........................................................44
E.T. ..............................................................................................................................................
........................
.. ......
......
............
.. ..............................55
Angela Thorne
My Body In Conversation ..........................................................................................................26......................................
.................
..............................
...
....
............
........ 26
2James Tindle
Seeing Red Curtains ..................................................................................................................
................ ......... ............ ......................................
.... .....
.............. 40
4Antonio Todd
I Was Raised By Women ............................................................................................................18..................................................
...... ....................... 188
Triony Valdivia
Favorite Color: Red ...................................................................................................................20.....................................................
.
. ........20
20
Jaynise Vandervort
Remember .................................................................................................................................. 24
Cer’cia Wallace
D.O.A ........................................................................................................................................ 11
Should I ..................................................................................................................................... 12
Favorite Color: Black ................................................................................................................21
Last Time ................................................................................................................................... 28
The Trail .................................................................................................................................... 29
I’m Not Your Friend ...................................................................................................................31
Aneshia Whitney
Unshackled ................................................................................................................................45
Aaron Williams
Free............................................................................................................................................ 45
The Burning............................................................................................................................... 53
Rasheen Williams
Remember .................................................................................................................................. 22
Poetry Should Have a Family ....................................................................................................23
Renita Williams
The Last Walk Home in the Dark ..............................................................................................26
Caught in the Moment ............................................................................................................... 30
As a Young Girl .........................................................................................................................33
Tajia Williams
I Was Raised By ......................................................................................................................... 14
Sequan Wilson
Raised ........................................................................................................................................ 30
Untitled ..................................................................................................................................... 35

My Old House
Old house,
I rememberthat old cherry tree.
I rememberthat beach where we used to go.
I rememberthat window I would look out
when I was in trouble,
that branch where I used to swing.
It was so high I could hear
the birds singing.
That house
was such a thrill.
I could always take time out
to chill,and
I rememberthat old wooden floor
that used to creak
when someone walked in.
I remember
the old rocking chairthat rocked back and forth.
I don’t know why,
but it always faced North.
Muhammad Ali

Da

v id

Mc
I nt yre

The Difference
She has blonde hair;mine is black as licorice.
Her skin is white as clouds in a winter storm;mine is many shades of brown.
She is thin, I am thick.
Her voice is as soft as velvet,
while mine is calm as a still lake.
There was a game called love
we played, two very unlike people.
He was to choose:the game has started
the rules are set.
I begin to take my turn—
She cheats,
she throws the dagger;
I trip up, I lose.
Tears swell up in my eyes.
They walk away.
I guess I wasn’t good enough.
Traanna Sitton2Dancing, Singing and Rap
Dancing, singing and rap—That’s the job for me.
Ever since I was a little kid
I’ve wanted to be a big star.
Dancing, singing and rap—
They’re all I know about.
I want to be the biggest
star in the world,
so when I’m goneeveryone will remember the icon.
Sharri Barnes

I Was Raised By Women
I was raisedby fried chicken
on a Friday nightwith a side of mac & cheeseand string beans
type of lady
Brown, thick hair
the body thatmake men stare
light skin, beautiful
type of lady
Some Kool Aidand Pepsi-sippin’
sit back and watch TVwith her children
type of lady

Ra

sh
a

dR

osen
b

oro

Say it loudand proud how
she feelsalways keepin’ it realtype of lady
I was raisedby my mother.
JoVante Hall3

I Know You (Who Am I?)
I know you
I know your every move
I can sense your thoughts
I know what you did
It’s my job to.
I can find your darkest
secrets by your habits
I can tell if you’re lying
or telling the truth.
No, I’m not your friend
No, I’m not your parent
Nor a gossiper or stalker.
I know you
I know your mind
I know it because I amthat little voice in your headcalled doubt.
I haunt you in your dreams
and once I get a warrant
for your arrest
you’ll knowthat I am more than a cop.
I creep into the unknown
and bring the dark to the lights.
I know you
Hired for personal reasons
Is he cheating?
Where did she go after work?
There are no secrets
except my job
Who am I?
Cristal Sandoval

4

Ma
rce
l Mc
Wane

Time
Tick-tock
As the time passes
I’m ready to kill.
As I hear the sizzle of my creation
the pressure, the noise
I’m ready to kill my creationand let it die.
In my memory
I have no mercy and wear no pain
Lakeisha Thompson

E.T.
You’re an extra-terrestrial.
You’re also a criminal
because you stole somethingimportant to me: my heart.
While we were watching the moon
while aiming rocks at birds
and eating dessert
we stole from my mother.
She’ll be mad, but I don’t careat the moment.
Swimming at the beachchasing fish underwater
as we watch the sun rise.
We plan on going on a killing spree
together, as we change our identities.
You’re foreign to me
and you bring out the best in me
Lakeisha Thompson

The last time I gaveTake,take, selfishness;being greedy has become a habit,
giving hurts.
I can’t take any more
so now I steal,
but each time I do, iteats away at my soul,
The guilt
til there’s nothing left.
Myron Jones

M
ar

yu
mA

bdullah5Cornbread
Cut it nicely.
Bite it.
Enjoy it with some Kool-aid.
Slap it with some butter.
Taste the sweetness in the bread.
Cornbread, you’re so delicious
I can eat you all day.
You can use your fingers,
no utensils needed.
Cornbread, I hate it
when you’re dry as hay.
But make sure you don’t
don’t drop a piece of it,
cause it’s really good.

Unexpectedin the voice of a hit and run witness
This scene I witnessed
was a tragic thing.
A car flew by
while a man was in the street.
Not stopping or looking,the car hit and went.
I was coming from the store
with my groceries in hand.
He fell to the street
without pause or blink.

I love you when you’re moist.
You are just as sweet as can be
and when I see cornbread,
I can keep you all for me.

Didn’t know what to do
except dial the phone.

Samara Smith

They came, I left
to go home alone.
Knowing a soul may be gone tonight,
I won’t forget my feelings—scared with fright.
That sound—Crash!—in my headpoor young man who won’t be in his bed.
Abigail Bibb

6

Not Now
Walking through the heat,
unbearable as a fire on the stove.
Can’t figure out what to doabout this sweat I can’t shake free.
Stuck, sticky, moist
on my head to my feet.
Kids run to the pool.
Parents shade with umbrellas.

Si
tto
n

l-r
:

Ra

sha
d

R os endnboro, Shaona Bra

on

l
,A

on

te

Broken Sun
The broken sun is oneof the darkest days,
but I know how to stop this.
The broken sun is what I can pass
like a hall pass to get out of class.
The broken sun is dark,
but it bakes my Hart.
Sterling Smith

All that could be done—to go inside, turn on the vent.
Not going out again,
maybe not tomorrow.
Waiting for another day
to bear and enjoy.
Abigail Bibb

7

Too FarWe always laughed.
We always cried,
never did I think it would come.
The crack in the holethat spread between us.
Never did I think it would run.

Her

One little argumentthat grew like trees.
Never did I think it mattered.

ma

nS
tokes

Forgive me, sister.
I’ll forgive you, too.
Never will we go too far.
Abigail Bibb

Dehydrated-Dehydration
Drenched in my own sweat,
I still thirst for an iced tea with lots of ice.
No need for cold water. The heat is as hot
as the devil’s toes. Heat waves break out.
Pools are packed because it’s summer.
The more people there are, the hotter it gets.
My mouth is as dry as salt.
It’s boiling out here.
It feels as though the world is a pot,
and our sweat is the water,
and the sun is the fire.
Until I get my iced tea, I’m holding a grudge
against the dehydrating heat monster.
Amira Bean

8

Not Today
I still look the same.
Still short.
Why did they laugh at me?
The two kids I saw that morning,
walking to my father’s job.
I still look the same.
Still light skin.
They wanted my forgivenessafter I told themnot to talk to me anymore.
Once friends, we stopped talking.
I still look the same, shortand light. Get out of my life!
I never saw them again.

The Only Thing Left to Do
Was run away and cry.
Forgive me,
MB, for all the times
I was mean to you.
You once told me my motherwould never let me wear thatand I see the rags you wear
and repeat those words.

Brandi Ennis
Forgive mefor talking about your hairstyles,
for talking about you to others
and telling you something else.
Forgive mefor being the wrong kind of friend,for being someone pretending
to be your friend.
Forgive me

r
Ma

cu

sA

lle

n

for the time you tried
to commit suicide
for your depression.
I’m sorry for everything.
Forgive me.
Monique Simpson

9

I Didn’t Mean To
Forgive me for when I didn’t
listen and follow directions.
Forgive me for rolling my eyes
when you yelled at me and
I deserved it.

M
on

ae

Forgive me for slamming doors
around the house.

SmithForgive me for writing about you
in my diary, saying how I
wanted to leave that house.
All I want is for you to comeback and I promise I willbe the BEST child there is.
I miss when you drove
us to the store at night,
dropping my sister off at
the airport to take a flight,
but it’s all good because I
know that where you are,you’re alright.

Harvested

Arnché Owens

Just take one bite.

The crunch I make from my salad,you dread. Glazed donuts
sweet like the sunset.
Just take one bite.
A dozen roses shot from the stem,
my red blood strawberries.

It’s as bitter as green apples.
We have no fear, so goodbye.
Just take one bite.
Death is as strongas gingersnap cookies.
Davina McKinnon

10

A Hot Sunny Day
A hot sunny day.
Never so hot like this in years.
People are trying to bear the pains,
but can’t wait any longer.
We are all sweating boiling water,then the sun starts laughing at us.
We can barely bear it. The heatmakes it so we can’t recognize each other.
Babies crying everywhere.
No one to take care of them because everyone
Is looking for a way to get
an air conditioner for their kids and home.
What a hot sunny day!
Adewale Oluwakemi

D.O.A.
I used to want to be somebody,used to be a kid with dreams,
hopes, wanted to be a lawyer,
but now I’m an empty soda can,kicked down the street.
I’m a pile of rags,
but I’m at peace with my rages,
at peace in my cardboard castle
with my concrete yard
and my invisible fences.
I was at peace,then the big man came on downwith his gun in my face.
Wanted me to dance.
I said, “If you want a show
go to the movies.”
He gave me a firework show—
Pop, pop went the bullet.
I turned cold and deadand I didn’t have nobody

r
My

on

Jon

es

to cry for me
when the cops came.
They checked my pulse
and said, “It’s dead on arrival.”
Cer’cia Wallace

11

Should I
Should I, I can’t decidecause fire still burns inside.
Forgiveness is hard, it takes time
and that’s something I don’t have.
I used to wallow in self-consciousness
And to forgive, I had to be a butterfly oflove, but forgiveness is hard, hair pulled,
teeth punched out, I think when I try to forgive,choking on self-hate.
To forgive is to forget and I
can’t forget, cause what happened herechanged me. My demons areburied now, they tore down the wrong one
and got you a bullet for breakfast,a knife for lunch
and a deadly desire,but I can forgive, but shallnot forget.
Cer’cia Wallace

Becoming
She comes frombroken glass and broken faces,
all over superficiality in her neighborhood.
From a mother who lost inspiration
and a father whose corruption glows
inside and out.
The spotlight shines on the wealthy,rich and significant,transparent to the loneliness withina cityof lost dreams
lost hope,lost imagination.
She screams for change
beyond herself,unchangeable,with locks on laws that control society.
She feels herself emptying
as the pressure point ofguns becoming the new voice,students cheated of education,
and war as a symbol of strength
pushes itself to destruction.
She is becoming
what she’s always asked for:fake authority
over people who will always want,
but can never have.
America,
we are becoming.
Kiana Murphy

12

Ce
r’c

ia W
allaceScorching
Poetry Should . . .
Poetry should be silent
Comforting the lonely
Nurturing the sickBut so quiet and quick
It’s like a flash before your eyes.
Poetry should be creepy
Stalking behind you
Making you turn aroundTo see if you’re safe and sound.

It feels like 200 degrees,
like I just got out of the pooland water is runningeverywhere. Sweat.
Give me a ton of ice creamor ice. Give me something
before I melt out of my clothes.
Kaitlyn Bowman

Poetry should be deadly
Cutting across you like a knife
Spitting out words of hate and love
Before death creeps up and takes you above.
Poetry should be eternal;
Coming back to life
Bringing peace to the world
Restoring nature
Poetry should be bliss.
Rene Frangel13

I Was Raised By . . .
I was raised by
Macaroni and cheese
Collard greens cooking
kind of women
a
mi
To
l-r:

A thick hair
I would smack you in your face‘cause you need to try harderkind of women

He
nr
y,

Sha
o

na Bran ndo

Got muscles, cursing
Didn’t have manners or needa man type of women.
Some glasses wearing“Men ain’t nothing”
kind of women.
I was raised by women.
Tajia Williams

My Friend
Laughing at everything
Not harshly not weirdly
But the deep deep
down laughter potential it has.
Turning tears to rain
Turning smiles to sunshine
She can make anything
grow to reach its dream.
She’s not a scientist ora genie, but a poeta transformer of words
that turns into beauty and life.
To show imagery in
Letters and stanzas
Poetry. Cer’cia.
She makes poetry
what it isher poems are the creationof flowers blooming andlingering on every magical word.
She is poetry.
She is my friend.
Cristal Sandoval

14

My Unknown
What comes out of your mouth
is not thought through or even thoughtful.
You stand out even when you
Are sitting alone. Brag about what you have
And don’t have.
Loud as a siren (if tempted)
Laughter heard ten miles away
Hands never kept to self
Even if it’s to harm or embrace.
No limit when it comes to sports.
Your endgame.
He has something that belongs to me
and he don’t even know.
Allyssa Hester

Raised By Women
I was raised by
kitchen cooking
bread popping
greens boiling“wash your hands before you
eat”
kind of women
Big boned
Keep nails done
Fashionista
Always standing up for what’s right“It’s better to be alone than withbad company”
Type of womenHeels wearing
Hips switching
Go shopping
Color beaming“Always matter no matter what
you wear”
Type of women

Rob

Jon
in

es

Not artistic
Cigarette smoking
Liquor drinking
Always partying“Who buying the bottles”
type of women.
I was raised by women.
Alexis Avery

15

Raised By Women
I was raised by God fearing
Independent, everybody get together
For the holidays, type of women
The “who you talkin’ to, respect
your elders”
The “don’t touch it unless you
gonna pay for it”
The “get up so we can go to
Church”

R ay mo n d St i t t

The “not believing in not disciplining”
type of women.
The French vanilla, just got done cooking ribs
and burgers and hot dogs and chicken and mac-n-cheese and sweet potatoes and potato salad
smelling
kind of women.
The nice suit and formal dresses
type of women.
The “ooh grandma what’s that” typeof women.

I am The Book:
I know who you love and who you hate.
I know the comments you keep to yourself.
I know the truth.

The long curly, pretty hair, the thick natural,and the thick wavy type of women.
The wise and wondrous encouraging
type of women.

You told me you didn’t really like the shirt
Dad gave you for your birthday.
You told me who really smelled bad.
I know the truth.

I was raised by women.
Yunique O’Neil

You told me how you really didn’t like thatgirl’s hair.
You told me about that F you got in class.
I know the truth.
Mariah Parmely

16

I Was Raised By
I grew up with
“You gonna sitat that table andfinish your food!”Type of women.
“Wash those dishes”
Kind of women.
“Don’t come home stupid after school”
Type of women.
I was raised by, “Change yourlittle sister and brother’s diapers”
Type of women.
I was raised by a woman.
Kiyon Robles

What ForAt two I lived for toys:
The dolls with the Jeep cars
Rubber made Polly Pockets
Bratz mannequin heads
Cinderella dress up shoes
and every Dora The Explorer toy made.
I lived for movies and TV shows
Mighty Joe Young, the movie
that always made me cry. Dorathe Explorer, the show I
always watched.
I lived for games.
Me and Daja playing
Power Puff girls on theplayground and a goodgame of house.
I lived for second grade.
Shaukeria Reese

De

re
Ar
n

Da
wk
in s

17

5 Mothers
I was raised by“girl get your butt
over here” type of women.
I was raised by“remember your heritage,
you ain’t a hood rat, you’rea black princess” type of women.
I was raised by
you na, better na,
hope na I na don’t na
tell na about na that na
little boy and you na smirking
type of sister.
I was raised by“fight for your life”“kick him high and low”
“Get mad”“Church on Sunday”“Church on Wednesday”“You better thank God”
type of women.
I was raised by women.

I Was Raised By Women
I was raised
By hard working
Independent
Good looking
Good cooking
Women.
Spiritual women.
I was raised by women.
Antonio Todd

For My Peoplez
For my peoplez everywhere helping me
do me and you
do you.
For my peoplez who push me on andHelp me succeed no matter what
Obstacles.

Traanna Sitton
For my peoplez who write poems
And songs about everyday life
And cold winter hearts
For my peoplz who love to singand dance and express themselves
through anything they touch or do.
For my peoplez who cherish theThought of us being besties forever.
For my peoplez who are my peoplez,
Who’ll stay my peoplez, because
I love my peoplez and my peoplez love me.
Cristal Sandoval18

I Was Raised
I was raised byGoing hard
Taking nothing from nobody
kind of women.
Long haired
Caramel skinned
Droopy curl stylingkind of women.
Throw downHigh heels stuntin
Hip shaking“Can’t nobody compare to me”
kind of women.

l-r: David McIntyre, Lakeisha Thompson,
Bruce Gibson, Abdull Ali, Daiquon Felder,
Steven Reed, Aaron Brooks,
Maria Watkins

Colors: Black
Covering the world with your dark embrace
When everything’s wrong and out of place
You’re depressing to someHappy to others
You search the world for vindictive lovers
I love you. You’re my favorite color.
Ta’Qiya Stroman

Baked chicken
Mash potatoes
Broccoli & Cheese
Making type of women.
I was raised by women.
CheYonne Dickens and Mary Lewis

19

SwitchLip stick skirt short
Talking like a G
Joning on my past friends
Attitudes everywhere
Mixing myself with my lie
Switch home.
Long jeans, loose shirts
Dancing in the living room
Liking both worlds
while song writing
Switch classroom
Quiet proper talking
Writing creatively
Being an innocent
while others arethought to lie
Always on honor roll
Switch? I ain’t havin it.
Cocky Crazy girlIf you touch me
you’ll get beat twice
in one hit.
Come check me.
Switch.
Cristal Sandoval

Ni
col
is M
onro

e

I am
I am meI am loyal to others
I am mePlaying my games
Waking up in my boxers
Eating cold pizza
I am me.
Deamonte Gibson

Favorite Color: Red
A perfect color for a Ferrari.
The wheels spinning in flames like a
Campfire.
The rising sun in the morning.
One of the colors in the rainbow aftera rainy day.
Triony Valdivia

20

Favorite Color . . . Guess
The trustworthiness border.
The book with four white lines
with the pencil, pen, and ruler.
The strike of power.
Be respectful, I lurk everywhere
even in the sky on a beautiful day.
The A and C in teaching.
The sparkle in her bracelet
You embrace my eyes.
How I love the shades you make.
Kaitlyn Bowman

Favorite Color: Green
You taste fresh
The ring on my finger
Some may call you plain
You’re the color of nature
All around in the woods
People use you for purchase.
I am in the world.
Abigail Bibb

RememberRemember the namethe laugh, the smile.
Always remember
the friendship.
Remember the voice
Remember the caring.
Remember the legacy.
Mychael Thomas

Favorite Color: BlackI am the color of a break up
I taste as bitter as my bite
I am sour, not sweet
The color of absence, color of a beaten eye
The color of the TV off
The color of blues.
The color of the motherland
The color of an empty box of fries
A rainbow of many
The color of deathOf life
Of nothing.
Cer’cia Wallace

Aa

n
ro

W

il l

ia m

s

21

Remember
Remember the day that thepool opened. Remember thechlorine that burned my eyes as I dived in?
Remember the day when
I was hungry and got some of Mom’s spicy
chicken.
e
Jam

Remember the day I hopped
on that plane and my stomach dropped.
Remember when we stayed in thatfancy hotel in Orlando. Remember goingto Ocean City and watching the heavy sun
burn us as we sat on the beach. Remember
we enjoyed life.

sT

ind

le

Rasheen Williams

Poetry Should Be Loud and Bold
Poetry should eat hamburgers
every time they go to McDonalds,
chase the cat down the street with a mouse in its mouth.
Put on its leather jacket and go to the movies.
Poetry should yell at her granddaughter and tell her to know everything!
Poetry should do cartwheels in gym class,run down the school hallway, and toilet paper the school lawn.
Poetry should play double dutch in the bathroom.
Poetry should lie and say she didn’t cheat on her test, andsing old blues songs during happy hour, drink orange juice in the shower,
and poetry should eat meatloaf with cereal.
Poetry should be loud and bold!
Traanna Sitton

22

Poetry Should Have a Family
Poetry should have a family.
Poetry should have two kids with Non-Fiction, named
Hip-Hop and Jazz.
But the next day, Non-Fiction
was cheating on Poetry.
Poetry caught her and Non-Fiction was guilty.
Poetry should have moved on.
But he didn’t.
Poetry could have left but he stayed.
Poetry kept his family under control but still
Lived happily ever after.
Rasheen Williams

Body of Atlanta
There is always something to see
inside me. My heart is the Atlanta Dome,the crowd is always pumping.
There is always something to see.
My organs are the CNN Building,working together, breaking the news down.
In my body there are always
places to see.
Russell Rountree

Se
lee
n

Ford

23

Godmother
My Godmother
Short with the horse legs and theWide, mile long hips.
Typical genius, very fancy, you’llCatch her in a dress and heels, she stays
In the nice four wheels.
Her gloss is poppin, Lil’ Mama don’t
Got nothing on her lips.
Goes to church on Sunday morning
Comes home jonin then getsConvicted next Sunday.
Though she goes to church
Don’t mess with the gospel gangster.

Bright Lights: My Body
As A Crime Scene
The white cell gang ran up
in my heart. Red Blood cells
carjacked my lungs.
White blood cells jumped
an infection. The orange juice
ran through me, as if criminals
running from the feds.
Tyric Saunders

Her hair may say she’s Mustafah in the morning and Beyoncé by night.
She has to keep her curls tight.
In her house she may talk to herself
But she’s my Godmother the crazy,
psycho, silly, Rachelle.
Yunique O’Neil

RememberRemember the inner voice that spoke
in a sound of quiet and no spotlight
Remember the DESA girl who
dreamed of this since she could talk.
Remember the quiet drama queen
that spent most of her time with dumb drummers.
Remember me as the prodigy of Joshua.
Remember the voice inside a soulof bittersweet music that branches fora bigger spotlight than the middle school stage.
Remember Me.
Jaynise Vandervort

24

The Last TimeI wake up in an empty holeNakia
cold, dark, and all alone
Be tter
no pulse, no inner thoughts
no life inside of me to help me breathe.
As I get up, I see a light in the corner.
In that light, my heart lies there in pieces
I try to fix it, a piece is missing
I look and look, it cannot be found.
Sometimes I wonder why myTears began to fall, I can’t love anymore.
stomach growls and how.
I hear footsteps, closer and closer they get
I have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
I wonder how my fingers move
As they approach me, they have no name, no face
and what type of muscles are inside me,
but they have the missing piece in my heart.
I can’t touch, can’t feel, only see them.
what makes up half of my body.
A face appears, one I used to love
one that used to love me, the one that hurt me
I really want to know
the last time I was with him
what goes on
was the last time I loved.
once the lights are out.
Robin Jones
Brittany Jenifer

InsidePoetry Should
Poetry should be a language.
Poetry should curse his boss out afterNot getting a raise and say things like
“Why in the FREEVERSE didn’t I get a RAISE!?”And “What the HAIKU is wrong with you!?”
Poetry should be like a dance and know all the latest moves.
Poetry should be something else to add to this poem.
Ivory Quarles

25

The Last Walk Home in the Dark

Renita Williamsua

I like that, she says to herself.
But all he did was walk past her
Phew, she said
She gets to her door,
looks through her window,
and says that’s the last time
I’m walking home in the dark.

h
Jos
l-r:

As I was walking
it was the night of the living deadFriday.
Fog covers her ankles as she walks
clenching her purse
close to her bodyas she panics with the fearthat a silhouette is following her.
Giggles from cars
driving past, she feels threatened and nervous.
As a man approaches her
she thinks to herself how her punch combo
gonna go down if he tries something.
Right jab, left hook,
uppercut and straight.
Yeah!

Du

nm
ore

, Ch

auncey Minor

My Body In Conversation
When my lungs talk, they breatheheavily. Tell me to stop running.
I was going up and down the steps.
They said, We’re tired and hurt.
After writing all day, my hands
said, Slow down. You’re done.
Your teacher won’t care if you stop.
I got mad. Told them to shut up,
but didn’t know who I was talking to.
When I tried to write again, my handpushed the paper away. Leaving me
to wonder what was happening.
Angela Thorne

26

My Body’s A Large Amusement Park
My organs are rides. My heartis the best one. My veinsare large roller coasters
the blood rides like passengers.
Once they reach the heart,they become something different.
My large and small intestines
are kiddy rides for new foods.
They don’t stay long.
The vitamins stay and help out.
They work the rides. Sometimes
I wonder what is happening inside of me;well, at least in the summer.
Monique Simpson

My Body as a Football Stadium
Would be loud.
Lots of people; thousandsof them like little ants.
The game would be fun—White blood cells vs. red blood cells.
The game would go welland be enjoyable.

naJoh

But wait! White cells
are in the lead. No, hold up!
Red cells came back. The crowd
goes wild amid the smellof hotdogs and hamburgers.

tha

n

Le

wi

s

At the end of the game, white cells
would be declared the winner: 17 to 10.
David McIntyre27

Body Town
The body is a town.
Different things and activities.
R e n i t a W il l

The thumping of the heart,a building being built.

ia ms

Breathing in and out,
the wind swishing through trees.
A runner speeding bylike the tongue that never stops.
In the stomach’s depths
goods are mixed with horrible wastes.
The body could always use repair,but it has to be a commitment.
Take care of it so it so it can last
as long as it can.
Abigail Bibb

Last Time
Hold uplet me go backback to the last time I criedback to when my eyes were a waterfall
and my heart sang the sweet blues
when I wandered aimlessly to nameless curbs.
Back to whimpers and tears
back to when I cried for movies
back to Tuesday, when Peaches diedback to age five, when blankey was killed.
The last time I cried,
I was a child, now I am grown
went through a metamorphosisof my own and became stronger,
better, never ever cry,yes, cause the last time I cried,the old me died.
Cer’cia Wallace28

To Beckon Her
I need sage, saffron, pumpkin, thyme,
and the flame of the rainy eclipse night
to beckon her.
I need the wiccans of my past
to burst through the windows
to beckon her.
I need to see her silhouette.
Someone had to sacrifice
I didn’t know it would be me;
I didn’t know it would
take this much just to conjure,just to beckon.
But now I am one of the wiccans
who burst through the windows.
I am in the box
I was the ultimate sacrifice.
Traanna Sitton

The Trail
Dripping with sweat
the river winding down my backcollecting in my shoes
sticky hair clinging to my face
as if afraid to let go.
The heat did thisthe heat, a snail
making its way down my bodyleaving behind a trail of slime
green gooey stuff
that comes at this time of year.
A shower kills slime
it’s rain in the desert
longingly anticipated, highly praisedreal hot, but getting coolsummer is so mean.
Cer’cia Wallace

Da

i qu

on F
elder

29

RaisedI was raised by commands,
by people who swore to God
that they had the upper hand;Yelling, screaming, at the highest volume
to make necessary emotional scars,
telling the middle-born child,
You don’t look as if you’ll get far.
Crying causes bodily harm;
Expressing anger deprives me of
my well-deserved freedom.
Expecting so much, but
the one time you don’t get what you want,
you begin your infamous tirade,talking all the time, but you never listen.
Criticize my every move, day after day after day.
Then for a second, you show a shred of hopeand I forget who you really are.
Under these conditions,
there must be something special for me
if I came this far.
And then I’ll show you what you wanted me to be;
Maybe this is just your way of preparing me.
Sequan Wilson

Caught in the Moment
Passenger seat confronts my body
strapped safely by the seat belt
knowing nothing would happen to me.
Traffic slows
because of the big red fire truck
but no sirens singing their tone.
We move closer to the scene,
I see a man lying face down, not moving
my first thought, oh man,the cops got him pressed out for something.
Then I notice blood upon his chin
Oh no
The paramedic is trying to revive him
but I think their clench to his heart
isn’t strong enough.
The closing of his eyes
repeats in my mind
which makes me shudder in shock
blurs all over my memory
flickers my nerve.
Being safe in this car
didn’t know I would get caught
in this moment.
Renita Williams

30

Sh
ar
ri

Ba
r

ne

s

I’m Not Your Friend
Hit and Run
Pain, pain shatters through my veins
my will, slowly withering away
like my life, like my day.
I want to be put out,
put out of my misery.
Why? Why couldn’t they just…
Just stop to think of me
how I, just a homeless being
feel, or if my life mattersto those in the ambulance
who care nothing for me
as though I am nothing,nothing but a waste of skin.
Even my mind withers,
withers away
but now I see,
I see truth, I see love
What is it?
It’s too bright
It is light.

We ain’t cool.
We are two tectonic plates
moving farther and farther apart.
We used to laugh, now we’re silent.
Our friendship flower used to bloom
now it withers away,
used to be solid, but now we’re melted.
Now we’re gone, like last night’s meal.
I ain’t your girl; ain’t your home girl,
girl, ain’t your friend.
We done; we don’t exist.
Leave me alone.
Cer’cia Wallace

Cristal Sandoval

31

Same Difference

Du

or

ua

32

h
Jos

James Saundersl-r:

Understand your element
Your power…
I’m still mastering mine, I’m still coping with it.
That might make me like everyone else.
My fragrance, my fragrance
Obscene and well-kept.
MTV did it!
(In my mother’s voice)She forgives MTV.
My soil is fertile and fine
The rate at which a plant in my mind can prosper!
Nourished by vivid visions of the past
That plant will become a vine
A divine vine predestined to inundate this temple
That is my body.
And it is my choice to desecrate this temple
And it is fate
And it is fineI have a knife
In my possession
I am willing to use this blade to cut a slice
Of my struggle and feast with you, my brotherI insist.
The fat of this struggle keeps me full
The bad fat
I have more than enough to divide with you
Resistance.
Eclyptic shade.
It seems as though I’m the only one with
An appetite for destruction
I’m the righteous one
Born on the path of righteousness, without a choice
So I never chose to be different
I just was.
So, while entranced in your thoughts withYour plate full in front of you
Wondering if you’re different, realize
How many before you have asked the sky the same
Question.
You are like everyone else.

nm
ore

, Mi

chael Johnson, Cha

ey
unc

in
M

The Difference
The difference between me and youis the threat of a past amnesia, of ancestors
who forgot their place,the taste of a castaway.
Only difference between me and you
is I’m mocha and you’re a splash
and a puddle away from being vanilla.
This flight is historic,that satire of you can’t do thisbecause you’re this color of the rainbow
or what we eat for dinneris what society calls different.
Just the memory of lying under the train tracks
at dusk, chasing faux roller coasters,
You’re my favorite outcast
holding hands, mixing some expensive coffee.
My dear Skipper, the only difference isthe narrator of my life is Morgan Freeman
and yours is Slash.
Maryum AbdullahAs a Young GirlAs a young girl she was an outcast.
Being the last one out of the classroom,
She stayed to herself, and never really had
the popularity attitude.
One day at school she was getting picked onby all the more light-skinned girls:
How she was boney, black and unpretty.
None of them liked her at all.
She cried all the time because of how she looked
Hey! There goes that boney girl, ha ha ha
She didn’t hit puberty
Leave me alone, she said, but they wouldn’t.
The next day she made a friend—
This might surprise you, but it was one of the pickers
That young girl didn’t really want to be her friend
but the way she was raised, she gave her a chance.
Her skin was light and mine was brownwhich means we’re different. She held my handtight and stopped them from messing with me
And we’ve been best friends ever since.
Renita Williams

Neighbor
Why you hang with him?
He no punk
He my mans
He cool
And you tryin’ to beat him.

:l-rYour friend can hear you
He’s scared
He should have gone
But then, you say something
Then you both are fightin’Your mind becomes more strong
No mere ebonics.

e
An

sh
ia

Wh
it

ney,

Imani Glass

Myron Jones

33

Unwanted
I am nothing,
Gravel that rests underneath your feet.
My tears are the rain
You block out with umbrellas.
Fingers, my fingers
Stutter out against the pavement
My feet blur, jumpy
Eyes twitch, avoiding oblivious gazes.
Fleeing my chores, house watch
The sheep shift away
Distancing themselves from the wicked wolf
I dance around the cracks on the sidewalk.
I am a bug, dodging the soles
Scatter to the street, unwanted.
On the crowded road,I find my place.

l-r
:

Ke
nya
He

re
lmo
nry, Saquan Pa

Difference

Nichell Kee
Chilling on my porch, watching cars go to and fro
My neighbor pulls up in her Impala and says
“Can you help me with these groceries?”
I get up and help. She says “Thanks a lot,” and gives me ten dollars.
My dad finally comes out of the house, “Are you ready?”
I give him a straight face to ask if he’s serious
We get in the car and go to my aunt’s house
I cut the radio up and fall asleep.
After 25 minutes, I wake up at my aunt’s in Richmond
I feel like I’m on another planet
I get out of the car and the lady walking past clutches her purse tight
You can tell by the look on her face, she doesn’t trust me.
Where I live, dreads and big coats are common
Out here, people watch my every move like a criminal
I went from helpful neighbor to common threat,
Average person to an outcast—Boy, what a difference!
Michael Johnson

34

Untitled
You look at him as if you know it all,As if you know what caused his downfall,Prejudging before even reviewing the case,
Reaching a verdict before visiting the scene of the crime.
Staring because you don’t understand,
Laughing for quick demand,
Recounting mindless self-indulgence intoa mind chock full of denial,
Having no choice but to put on an act,
Without even thinking of another’s pain,
And all for pointless personal gain.
Shame is associated with those willing to repent,
But I bet you don’t even regret the thunder
you’ve stricken on this man,
I hope you’re content with that waste you call a life.
By the way, I just gave you an ultimatum,
So a simple “thank you” could suffice.
Sequan Wilson

I’m doneDead to me
Abusive
Also ripped apart
Guess who it is?
My soulWhy do I feellike this? I feel trappedin a needle stack
Should I die?
The question is, should I not.
People don’t carethey don’t like me
Why the freak
I feel animatedGoodbye.
Rashad Rosenboro

y
ke
Mic

B

ut
le r

35

Wasted LifeThe events of the past,running on replay
Standing, wanting something more,
help even. Someone who cared

Mirror Image/
The Beautiful Similarities

Living out this box of lies and shame
Asking for change as if they owed me that much

Staring at my grandmother’s phototrying to spark a narrative
as to what her life was like

Then in a blurry vision
death upon impact, like it was intended

Back in the day.

They didn’t care, the time I wasted
getting here seems like an illusion

She’s standing in the dusk of nightstars outcasting her felt-tipped afro,
lapels flapping in the windbell bottoms pleasing the groundplatforms, hoop earrings, lipstick.

But it’s too late for half-hearted regrets

She was foxy and fly in her day.

Greg Kyo Edelin

Staring in the mirror
into my grandmother’s eyestryn’a do things to make surethere is no difference.

My last seconds of life, my killer runs off
Me, nothing but a lost soul of society

In my dayPosing proudly on her front steps
sun threatening to bakemy tresses, so cotton-likecollar taking flight in the windjeans dragging slightly behind me
canvas shoes, hoop earrings, Chapstick.
I’m a historical puddle of her essence:
looking at me, she will never catch a caseof amnesia.
Jessica Carpenter

36

ar
W

d

l-r
:

DifferentMate’o

Branch, Antoin

Differences in a lot of this world
and a person like me has been through things
In my life, when I see things
I think of differences all the time
but being in the world is so hard.
A lot of people have a lot of differences
but it’s at every different level
It’s fun doing things in the world
seeing everybody every day
and doing a lot of things every day
But you keep doing it, it gets boring.
I see lots of people
trying to do as many things as they can
Me, I try many times
but I can’t do it sometimes
A lot of people call that multitasking
and that’s a difference to me.
Being on the planet makes a whole lot of difference
but people have to go there every day
and now it is a new year and differences follow people
everywhere they go, which is kind of cool
But people have lost their lives and their souls
to something that is pure evil on the streets
and that’s why it’s a difference in this world
But you know that it will be life on the streets.

rry
, Te
e
c
i
eR

alone
Cold and hungry
cuts on my hands
There’s no reason
to tryThere’s no help
or chance
I cry and ask for help.
They laugh at me
She is the reason
I crywondering if she knows
who I amand can she feel
my pain?
Daiquon Felder

Marcus Barnes

37Cry for Help
I walked down the street
crying for help to the lost soulAb

I cried in pain,
watched the lost soul cry
for help,

d

ul

lA
li

but thenthere was the lightso bright it called forthe lost souland it was saved
Michael Parker

Hit Me and Run
To the medics, I am nothing
but a poor homeless wound,breathingtrash.
To them, I am likea wrapper they don’t wantthat floats through the wind.
Fire trucks never comethe man just stares
he doesn’t do anything.
I got splattered like a malletthe cops still won’t help me
Everybody doesn’t carethey just drive by.
Abudull Ali

38

Can You Hear My Soul?
Hey you!
Hey you, can you hear my soul?
From the bottom of my soul,it’s people that know
I’m still in the sky
in my mind, all whiteflying high, real.
I always wish
that I was deadPeople laughing
making jokes, now
it feels like I’m shot in the head.
Sharri Barnes

Non-Progressing LifeAs I lay in my trash-filled
alley, I saw that I
shunned life, thinking to myself
what have I ever got
by being alive. Society
clenches at my throat
with no mercy.
While I was drinking
a warmed bottleof vodka, I began to walk
into the street to end
my pitiful non-progressing life.

Kir
p
ur
kM

As soon as I got in
the middle of the street
I became a terrified frozen hopelessshell that couldn’t move, until
I was struck by a cold iron beast
moving at a quick paceand I came to my senses
noticing that I was in grave painfrom being hit by a car.

hy

At that very instant,
I wanted to make something of myself
instead of shunning the world
for my stupidity.
Steven Brown

39

Seeing Red Curtains
He crumpled in an academy-winning performancefour blocks from Broadway,
where all the A-listers are
his ensemble
unwilling and lazy,
still wrapped in their hangovers
scared of bad reviews

James Tindlelaay

His blood-red climax
showcased four blocks from Broadway
merged in a sad flicker of high operatingmachineryand bad timing
set and filmed on the other side of New Yorkescaping the clutches of mainstream mediak
Ma

In this metaphysical jigsaw
where all the pieces fit perfectly,
including the wind-blown pipes
and the pretty blue blender of debris
I tripped and fell from my townhouse doorstep
into their melodramatic plot
like an unmatching puzzle piecebeing shoved into the place of another

Ab

ath
y

Bus Ride to School
Vibrating seats, shaken voices
Give off a false sense of fear.
Tense atmosphere, bursting lungs
Stale air, raised guards
Rolling wheels don’t stop the flowing anger.
Disturbed environment, it makes a sound.
Wide expressive eyes
Fists connecting with moving targets
Two more join the party
Thunder rolls through the bus.
Footsteps, unsure, scatter like roaches
Young eyes turn on like a faucet
Yelling Mom through the tears.
What could any of us do?
My stop was coming up.
Nichell Kee

40

er n

Single Leaf

On the Bus
I ride the bus.
All I see is my game,then a bunch of boys
attack an elderly man.
The elderly man went on an overload
and beat the other man.
Someone said stop,and it was me.
Abdull Ali

A single leafin the middleof two white lines
not expecting
a gust of wind
to take it awayin this star-flecked night;
A single soultaking its last
unraveling breath;But before it all ended
somewhere it began,like an overripe piece of fruit;
The blur of animated lights
coming for her, seconds
only seconds before
that bomb detonates;
The click-clack of her shoes
hitting the ground
only a memory of where
she used to stand;
Her teeth clenched
to brace herself for impact
as if a mallet were
hitting her big toe, pain;
The last stutter of breath
escapes her mouth
as the orchestra’s music
ends. Diagnosis: death.
Jessica Carpenter

Marcus Bar nes

41

On the bus
Doors open,
W6 Garfield-Anacostia Loop
I put my fare on the box (beep)
the direction the bus goescauses a forward jolt.
(bing) Next stop please.
People get off, people get on
oh great, the big, drunk guy
smelling of gin is cursing
out the cute bus driver.
Lady gets on the bus
bus currently in a stateof overload. Wails pierce
my ears as the bus stops
No more room! scream many.
Elderly woman says, “Sir,can you move your bag
so I can sit?” Ignorance commences
Big, drunk guy swings, I get hit
Guy swings, he hits the window
I squint, angered I get
off at the Salvation Army a known
landmark (bing, stop requested)
Doors open,
W6 Garfield-Anacostia Loop.
Jessica Carpenter

Unraveling the Truth
For the first time in my life
I’m homeless
It was all a blur to me
My mom was crying
It was terrible
but people helped us,
like my cousin and my grandma.
It was wicked for me,
my mom had to find somewhere
for us to live fast
Then she found a shelter,
we went; on the first day it was roughBut after a few days passed,
it started to get easier.
I met a lot of people
I made friends, it was fun
My mom was still crying
she was saying it was her fault
Sooner or later she was diagnosed
with a sinus infection
from all the smoke, it was sad.
But now it is all a memory.
I’m glad, but we are still homelessto this day
but people are helping us
I never want to go backthere again.
Seleen Ford42l-r: D
eAr

ren
Da

wk
i

One Stop

ns

,M
ich

a el Jo hn s o nWalking down Silver Hill Road
smelling chicken and fries
it widens my eyes,
Popeye’s on the left
Census Bureau on the rightsun comes from behinda cloud and it gets real bright.
I put money on my SmartTrip
then I pay my farethen I notice this girland she starts to stare.
What is she looking at? I really don’t care.
I walk down the steps on the righton the track, I notice an elder laid on his back.
I’m thinking of what happened to the girlthought it was funny, till these boys
knock her down, running with money.

RewindI told them to forget the past:
the time in classthe memory of me
making reference to TV.
I told the teacher,“U can’t C me.”So can we rewind
to before that time
when life was cooland I wasn’t a fool?
Andre Thomas

The man gets up, chasing them up the stairs
then my train pulls up I get in my seat,some lady speaks,“That was ignorant, the way that man got beat”
I get off the train, dreads wet like a mop
now it’s raining
all that in one stop.
Michael Johnson43Remember
I remember when I was with you
made me feel special
You made me who I am today
It’s like déjà vu.

nna
Tra a
t
Sit

But you are good,
you cared about me
you call me when you can
I can’t forget you, you aren’t in the past.

on

I have lots of memories of you
when I was a baby
and until now, I still do
You were a father I never had.
Well, he is alive and you aren’t either
I wish I could rewind backand spend time with you
like we used to.
I can’t wait to see you again
when you come back from jailI hope you’re taking care of yourself
I miss you.
Seleen Ford

The Last Football GameThis may be the last time
I giggle at defenders
who can’t catch me,
the last time I sacrifice my bodyfor a team that loses
every year in the playoffs,
the last time I feel the blues
for trying my hardest.
I’m having a metamorphosis
into a person I can’t understand—looking out a window of pain
into a random peace,
no longer having to sprint
never-ending laps
feeling like the wind
was punched out of my lungs.
Thrown into life:
a game stranger than UFOs.
Michael Johnson

44Unshackled
The last time I went with a boy
I was very happy at first
but when it got later into the relationshipit became unhappy for me;
It felt like I was handcuffed to him forever
It was like there was no way outof the darkness that I was in
My friend tried to bring me back to reality.
I was fighting for my life
But I had lost the war
and had to be a slave to his power
But finallly when I let go
and he did too
I jumped out of my shackles
and became a goddess.

FootballWhen I played the game
My skills were a flame
Showing fools how they’re lame
Dodging left and rightYour friends a sacrifice
To the lord of the night
Move like a shadow, even in the light
Making people fall:This is football
Andre Thomas

I could never go backto that black hole of darkness
I have freedom and I will never go back!
Aneshia WhitneyFree
People sacrifice life
because of fear
When you let go
you go through a metamorphosis
Windows are chances to fly,the feeling of freedom,
the flame of life, it will growNomads have no handcuffs
to hold them down.
chNiAaron Williams

e ll

Ke
e

45

A Terrible Job
Every time I go to work
I hate it
Sometimes I see a new face,a new voicethat might hear society again
They look like caged animals
behind bars
They wish they could cross over
but they can’t cuz society is rejecting themThis is a mythic curse
an unworthy heaventhat should have never been madeWhen I leave those doors
I feel free
but I’m depressed because
the others couldn’t leave with me
Johnathan Lewis

l-r: Mia Davis, Q
ua’
Sh
ai
Br

ley
ad

Archaeology
I study the remains of past human life,
the materials of fossils,
artifacts, humans, dinosaurs.
I also study the remains of
the culture of people,
dig up graves of ancient people
scuffing my salt brush,
scratching the desert pavement.
Rocks black as tar
Sunrise is glimmering
Blinding eyes of nature
beneath my feet
Snakes on the groundslithering for water
Ground looking thirsty
and the desert is sore.
Shadajah Groone

46

The Worst Job Ever
I get called on the spot;
Moment of silence,
Looking at this page of unlimited words,
The teacher says “Read or I’m calling your mom
for disruptions in class, fighting, and everything else
you didn’t do.”My heart begins to go at a drumline pace.
I take a deep breath.
I go to speak these unfamiliar words
on this slim piece of trees…
…No words are coming out
Come on! What’s happening?
Then, after a good ten seconds,
the only thing that comes out isan outrageous blast of stinky air
out of my rear end.
Ugh! So embarrassing!
This is the worst job a kid can have.
Kirk Murphy

The Worst Job
The worst job
is being in love
All that heart-achingpain
Why can’t it justgo away?
You tell someone
you love themand get an “I don’t knowwhat to say” back.
You thought
you were in heaven
but the lovegate slammed in your face
One last freedom kissfrom the one who doesn’t hurt
makes you feel likeyou’re in paradise.

M
vin
Ke

or
to

n

This job is hardso don’t do it
Don’t stresscuz those love doors
will open once again
Just believe in that heart
and trustthey’ll be there.
Nakia Better

47

Heat
The Crazy Heat!
Still standing in the heat
Not able to breathe or talk
Only able to concentrate on the heat
that’s on my faceAs I dream of fresh air one day,Being able to move as I still sit there
Days and days pass by
as I sit and watch the blazing sky
Wondering what I want to eat
as I sit right there in this crazy heat
Trying to think of air balloons
think now I’ll see you soon
Nyelle MarshallOn this one hot day
it brings all that nature isthat shows like summer times.
Navigation of soft winds
navigation of soft river streams
with sounds of that time and season
the summertime, so sweet.
Shadajah Groone

Fever DreamAs I was walking down the street
I was navigating the whole street
and I could feel my knuckles hurting
like I was punching some kind of wall.
I looked up to the sky
I could see balloons spiraling over my head
and I could feel the blindness
from the hot burning sun.
As daybreak drifted toward me
I was feeling very lighthearted
and my wings made it very hardfor me to see outside.
I tried to control myself
from being this hot and I looked up once more
to see a flock of starlings, birds
flying above my head
and at the end of the day
I had taken a long nap all day.
Marcus Barnes

48

teven Brown, Jr., Jes
sical-r: S

Ca
rp

en

er

t

BlazingCan’t Stand It
The heat is like a crematorium
It beats us with such force
It bakes us like a fiery torch
I despise the sun
I despise the heat
I despise the fire
It makes me freak

Why this heat?
It’s baked me likecooked meat.
Why this heat?
It knocks me
off my feet.
And it is hard to finda nice cold treat.
Muhammad Ali

The heat hugs me tightso I can’t even breathe
I’m allergic to the heat
It makes me sneeze
I’d rather prefer the cold
It has such a pleasant breeze
Ta’Qiya Stroman49Summer
One hot summer day,
I was thirsty, it was too hot
We were trying to swing to get some air
I went outside to cooland get a popsicle, but it melted.
Kia

na
ur

M

The house was hot
So I went back outsidewhen twilight came, there was too much grief
My friend felt lightheaded, she was going in spirals
I got to get used to summer.

phySeleen Ford

I Can’t Take the Heat
When it’s hot, sometimes I try to stay outsideand sometimes I have to get a fan to cool myself down.
I know I could open the window for some air
but that won’t work.
I sweat all the time, so my feet stink.
My underarm is funky and sometimes I
put on some deodorant tokick the funk from my underarm.
Sometimes I will splash myself with some cold water;
I have to take a shower with cold water, not hot.
I hate when it’s hot in the house and outside.
I wish God could make it cold outside;
I wish God would make it snow.
Joshua Dunmore

50

The Heat and Immunity
Man it’s hot!
I stay in the shadewhere the cool breeze is;I stay in the shade
like a scared animal wondering
where this ray of light is,
and why it’s so hot.
I watch little kids running with popsicles:
They’re immune to it
but it feels hot, like it’ll burn my flesh
I use a wet towel to makea quick door to where it’s cool.
I get in the room, it’s like a glacier
my towel like a desert
and body looking like hot bacon.
Johnathan Lewis

Changes
I am unpredictable as lightning
No one knows what’s next
I will cause damage
I roar like a lion
I soar like an eagle
flying from danger
I am as quiet
as a mouse
I burn on the hatred
I am a knife causing pain
I am the pain that you feel
And your pain, I feel

St
el

ita

Bet
te

r

I am the ocean
controlled by the wind
I am the cheetah
running to hide
I shoot like a star
yet I’m blowing into
something different
Michael Parker

51

The Last TimeThe last time the vampire bit,
his fangs were fierce
his heart still thirsts
his anger sang
his eyes insane
taking the neckfilling it with pain
screams of terror filling his ears
last breath getting near.

or y
Greg
e
Ed
li n

Now the ritual’s done
and you’re one too
following his ways
Now he bids you adieu
you’re on your own,transforming others too.
Ta’Qiya Stroman

Dang, It’s Hot!
It’s so hot outside
I don’t know what to do.
I want to go to Alaska, but
What’s the point?
I need to die anyway
How many people feel like me?
I wish I could see these people
How many times have you heard people say what I say?
Can you find my soul?
No you can’t,
Under all this heat.
Rashad Rosenboro

52

The Burning

Ta
’Q

iya

Stro
m

The heat,the sun beating
like an angry mother.
But here comes water
the pool, my lifeline in the heat.
First I find my trunks
which are my keys to the pool.
The heat has mugged my joy
I feel lightheaded,navigate to the promised land.
Now I am set adrift.

an

Aaron Williams

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