Before she could speak she pointed.
grabbed my hand and sat me on a stone wall.
tugged her mothers shirt and pointed beside me.
sat between us and smiled, kicking her feet.

I just met her that morning, but she knew.
bright little girl
maybe that's why her mother named her after the sun
Soleil.

fond of "No". that was a big one.
and "elsa" of course.
and every night when you tucked her in she'd list everyone she knew and ask if they were home.
"papa home?"
yes, papa is home
"numnum home?"
yes, numnum is home.
"Dada home"?

I can only imagine she does the same.
an I imagine it... so often.
I wonder what they tell her.

"I love your words."
That's the last thing she told me.
and the first.

I love her words too.
I still hear her, whenever I say them.

"Blue"
"Three"
"Venom"
We played Lego Marvel together, and I told her venom was Daddys favorite, so naturally she always wanted to play him when you asked
"who do you wanna be?"
"Venom. BIG Venom"
There's different kinds of venom in lego marvel, cause he can like,
turn hulk size and do hulk stuff, or turn spiderman size and do spiderman stuff?
I liked him because he was super versatile,
but I'm pretty sure she picked him because he's my favorite.

"Elza"
"let it go"
she could sing the whole song before she could even make full sentences.
and her mom would make her stop because she wasn't good at it.
but I thought her voice was beautiful and always told her
"I love your voice"

I don't know very well the relationship between love and memory
but I heard once that the key was repetition
and if for nothing else, just to hear her in my head forever I say them over and over to myself

"I love your words"
"Let it go, Let it go"
"No."

The continuum of existence,
The constant push and pull.
No time left for actual learning,
Just dying undercover,
We're just trying to keep our cool.
So next time you actually think,
Existence is something more than a series of points
Plotted on a paper graph,
Remember this, my child,
Life is shit,
It's just waiting for us to quit.

idk its finals week
skyler 6d

Childhood is supposed to be blissful. Kids are supposed to be innocent. Children are supposed to be learning how to face the world, not fighting it head on. I look left and right and see kids with as much pain and fear in their eyes as soldiers coming home from war with half of their limbs blown off. These children have been fighting since day one; some of them thrown to the curb before their eyes even open. They're supposed to have a family they can go home to, but instead they're getting shoved into homes with strangers or family members trying to pick up the slack because mommy and daddy are falling apart and their broken pieces are laying all over the house waiting to cut you open and drain your insides. There are kids who know more about drug abuse than the average adult because they've grown up watching their family stick needles in their arms. There are little girls and boys who flinch at any sudden movement or sound because the only thing they can picture is fists flying at them and pinning them to the ground. There are children who look at trauma and pain as if it's just another day because they've been dealing with drama since the day they left their momma or maybe their momma left them. There are kids you can't touch without them weeping because they've had hands on them creeping to places they scream you can not go but some people just don't understand the word no. There are adolescents that don't flinch at gunfire because they heard the same sound in the bedroom next to theirs before their sibling’s funeral. There are babies with bruises and kids with cuts just because mommy and daddy don't seem to love them enough. Childhood is supposed to be blissful, but instead there's kids taking fistfuls of pills to wash away the pain that shouldn't have been there in the first place. Kids are supposed to be innocent, but instead their lives don't make sense and they grow up to be numb like fog covers their brains all because their upbringing was outright insane.

s.s

MeanAileen Dec 8

Oh how I hate
this time of year,
with the stupid songs
and holiday cheer...
Annoying bell ringers
outside the store,
and the tacky wreaths
hanging on the door.
Cardboard calendars
filled with waxy treats,
ice and snow making
death traps of streets.
Frazzled parents
spending more then they should
on ungrateful kids
who are far from good.
Fake smiles & wishes
in the "spirit" of it all,
the bloated prices-
the crowds at the mall.
The hour long line
to see Santa the phony
who falsely promises
an x-box or a pony.
Having to gather
with family who annoy,
gifting another cheap
Chinese-made toy.
Fire hazards
strung with tinsel and lights,
tensions leading
to fun Christmas fights!
Secret Santas-
holiday parties for work,
ugly sweaters
making you look like a jerk.
The stress of having
an enormous list
and a tiny budget
just makes me pissed!
No, nothing seems
jolly or merry or bright...
Oh how I can't wait
till post-Christmas night!

My ode to the holidays!!
And no, I'm not a TOTAL Grinch, I just play one in November and December!!
Samantha Dec 5

Kids just don't fall in love
It would fly right away, just like a dove.
Every single day, on the Net,
I see love poems, but I haven't yet
Fallen in love, for that is a task
That kids do not do, as it never lasts.

I am far too young to simply quit
For I am just a kid, that's it.

When I was just little, in sixth grade,
Something happened to me that made me seem played.
I was just waiting, outside of math class
When by me, this weird boy walked past.
"Sam," he said to me straight-faced,
"I like you." he exclaimed with no disgrace.
How could it be, I wondered from shock.
I can't be liked, to myself I would mock.
I looked him straight, right in the eye,
"Okay." I just said, without any lie.

I never loved him one little bit
For I am just a kid, that's it.

One day, I may hope to grow up
Like an adult dog, not like a pup
So I can finally find love
The big change will be like a shove.
But it will sure be worth it at the end
I'll make a new pal who's more than a friend.

It'll be like falling into a big pit
For I am just a kid, that's it.

I decided to write my first poem about love, and my first poem where I tried a repeated line! How awesome is that?
grace snoddy Dec 3

in the light of pure adolescence;
we see.
and in the air of willful disobedience;
we breathe.
our actions fuel off of the energy
of the violent sunsets.
and we find our individual tranquility
in the nights in which we wander.
not only do we wander, but we wonder.

the playful range of shades the sky possesses makes us wonder and wander.
looking past on the identities
we were told to portray, we create our own full of vibrancy and reason.
this identity gives us a powerful passion

a powerful passion that thrives off of
the rays of the sun.
a passion that gives us the motivation to continue on this messy road of colors.
to continue on our ephemeral yet indelible adventures throughout  the course of life.

Brianna Love Dec 1

Thanksgiving is over
Christmas is coming,
the calendar clock
is off and running.

Planning must begin
lists must be made,
before we can begin
the shopping parade.

We search for ideas
as we scan the ads,
for something different
for moms and dads.

They’ve already got everything
that we see to give,
and their wants are fewer
the longer they live.

But the young ones make lists
that are long and spendy,
they love those weird games
and clothes that are trendy.

We then look in our checkbooks
and count the bills in our purse,
just shrugging our shoulders
thinking…. it could be worse.
~

Liz Carlson Dec 1

starry skies
and sad eyes.
growing old
on memories we hold.
never want to leave.
never want to stay.

Tiana Marie Nov 28

There is a monster
And it's under her bed
Beneath her pillow
Where she rests her head

It has claws like sharp blades
That pierce her skin
It's eyes are dark
And they let no light in

It has a tongue of venom
That licks her ear
And whispers the things
She does not wish to hear

"Your pants are too tight.
Your stomach's too chubby.
Your eyes are too crossed.
You will never have beauty."

It whispers these a lot
For its how it moves to her head
From the small place it's hiding
Beneath her bed.

She believes him completely
Though every word is a lie
She's now tucked in her bed
Where she starts to cry

"Your pants are too tight.
Your stomach's too chubby.
Your eyes are too crossed.
You will never have beauty."

She only heard rumors
And she only heard myths
She never thought the monster
Would be in her midst

"Your pants are too tight.
Your stomach's too chubby.
Your eyes are too crossed.
You will never have beauty."

The kids down at school
Say the monster's not real
But that's just not true
They can't feel what she feels

She's gone off hiding
She's tries to keep it away
She's praying it won't find her
Afraid of the things it might say

"Your pants are too tight.
Your stomach's too chubby.
Your eyes are too crossed.
You will never have beauty."

Now the monster had moved
from the bed to the shelf.
Staring up at it now,
She realizes it's herself.

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