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All posts tagged in poetry

  • September 25, 2017By Marie Isabela

    I’ll admit, it was hard to find a proper way to explain this poem. I’d found motivation to write this when writing about a wildhearted character who doesn’t necessarily have a story yet. When writing this girl, I realized that I can connect with her in this wildhearted way, and it brought me back to

  • September 18, 2017By Gabrielle Mendoza

    It’s so easy to pass judgment on someone you haven’t met; it’s even easier when you hear them speak except they’re not talking with you — at you. However, there are those instances wherein someone actually converses with you and you’re so fascinated and excited from the rush conversation brings that, along the way, you become one

  • August 27, 2017By Paola Fernandez

    This poem describes that feeling when you are slowly transitioning to adulthood with all its baggage and missing your youthful days of being happy. You get into relationships, you realize you have roles to fulfill. It gets exhausting.   I miss sleeping next to my mother I wish this sinking feeling could stop But isn’t

  • August 27, 2017By Jasmine Cui

    “Every medical student, at some point in their training, will take a class in which they are assigned a cadaver to take apart. It is done as a means of offering students “hands on,” experiential learning. “I have a friend who is taking this class – “Gross Anatomy” – and he said this: ‘You get

  • August 27, 2017By Vriddhi Vinay

    As someone with major depressive disorder, I absolutely loathe how it controls me day to day and sucks the life out of every possible action. As a Hindu, Deepavali, or our festival of lights, has always been a cause for celebration; it becomes hard to celebrate when that light dims and starts looming ahead you.

  • August 24, 2017By Gabrielle Mendoza

    Scrolling through Twitter is just about the only thing I do aside from schoolwork. Part of the reason is because of the stories that I come across on my timeline. Someone will be posting about their family reunion, their best friend or their heartbreak and it’s interesting to be able to see life with another

  • August 22, 2017By Jalen M. Brown

    As I continuously say, poetry is very subjective and interpreted differently from person to person. For some, this poem could be about the love a person has for their lover, and how the stillness of hot summer nights can feel like eternity when they’re next to them. For others, there could be another hidden message.

  • August 19, 2017By Dominique Durden

    This poem was inspired by the riots in Charlottesville, and the attacks on black and brown bodies all over the world. If I am to die tonight, Cradle me in the arms of the angels. Where all is good and pure. Where the air is clean, and the soil is fertile. When I die, bury

  • August 14, 2017By Gabrielle Mendoza

    For some reason, I’ve never been an expressive or affectionate person, especially towards my parents. It’s always been easier for me to send the message through my actions or through my writing—this poem is just one of many examples. I’ve always had these thoughts, but have never felt so strongly that I had to put

  • August 13, 2017By Beth Haze

    Do you remember the first time you fell for someone? How everything seemed endless? Fast paced? Just a simple rush that you never wanted to end but also slow, confusing and scary. Filled you up inside with giddiness and happiness but making you overreact and analyze everything. Incredibly contradictory. Not even the endless possibilities that

  • August 8, 2017By Dominique Durden

    This poem was inspired by my own personal struggles with religion and finding my own path, and growing through it all.   I. I only know God in the context of teacher. Answer question after question and doesn’t get mad when I ask the same one about the same thing over and over again. Take

  • August 7, 2017By Gabrielle Mendoza

    Five months ago, I went to my junior prom entitled “Avenoir.” That night, I felt content with my dress, my date and the dance; in fact, at two a.m., I was still reeling at the events that made my night and the events that — for the lack of a better word — ruined me the days

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