the dreamed winter the storks sitting meekly in Africa the butterfly frozen in the marvellous pond mice write a gorgeous myth a rural boy longs for the moonglow witch apollonianly bewitched a stunning world in a moony way I am full of druidic wizardries You are like a dragonfly We are singing
the dream-like spring the storks are coming home so tenderly the butterfly awoken in glory but sitting mice write ovidian songs a rural girl yearns for afterglow in addition hex enchanted a dazzling world in a starlit way I am shrouded in this cool mystery You are such a firefly We are trilling
the dreamy summer the storks are nesting mayhap peacefully the butterfly flying over becharmed garden mice write Dionysian ode an auntie is bent upon blue hours the enchantress is conjured amusing world in a starry way I wrapped in plethora of sorcery You are Dionysian spider We are chanting
the dreamful autumn the storks are going to fly off musing the butterfly dreaming just before coming death mice write Apollo’s hymn an uncle muses about cool star the sorceress enraptured such a cute world in a moonlit way I stay under a spell of tenderness You are like a charmful bee We caroling
Paweł Markiewicz was born 1983 in Siemiatycze in Poland. He is poet who lives in Bielsk Podlaski and writes tender poems, haiku as well as long poems. Paweł has published his poetries in many magazines. He writes in English and German.
You can find more of Paweł’s work here on Ink Pantry.
when I think love, I think crosswalks. crosswalks at an intersection. intersections folding into home. bakeries. picking up sourdough at a le pain asser. crosswalks folding crisply like the crackling of sourdough starter. I think rich. downed & drunk on awkward street signs. korean spelled to sound like fancy french. out-of-business oscar motels. napkins bunched under rolled-up pasta. poor imitations of gelato. restaurants dedicated entirely to seaweed soup. restaurants that live. restaurants that forgot to live. overhyped soba noodles & udon. people. visiting from other intersections. people standing in line for cheap coffee. people overcompensating richness with cold yogurt blends. mothers with their children. children with convenience store rice triangles & unauthentic yellow banana milk. mothers with half-assed plastic cup white wine. crossing a crosswalk. at night: unlived underground karaoke bars. sweaty men slapping backs & smoking through tobacco teeth. I think love in day & night. intersections licking corners with stray cat piss stains. a dog barking somewhere a streetlamp lives. women enjoying unadulterated drunkenness. businessmen that kill neon streetlights. children in bed. adults slipping into each breath. the people of montmartre; in this moment they are everywhere all at once. we wander like strays. I am born as a stranger in a new intersection everyday.
Flower Language
Gone, I whisper and walk towards the bed of belladonnas, close enough to listen to their gentle
inquisitive conversation. I listen to their arms fan widely above and over their mystery fruits:
magnolias, singing. They indulge in noiseless chatter while I swaddle in dahlias overwinter crisp
newspaper. The children have made a home out of miniature sunflowers— only ones that could afford real blooms
instead of the silk imitations sold in the supermarket. The wind praises the gray foliage and the knee-length weeds.
Lavender: the height of a spine and the way it tickles the sky on a whim grounds the stalks into more purple
than they are. The pine with hipbone steps turns enwrapped in a fragrance— breathe. The garden is nothing concrete
but a moment all at once. I bury my nails in clay ripples thoroughly spoiling myself
with Earth.
Praise
Praise the stories. Praise the stories I read and tell, subtly.
Praise the night. Praise the night beneath little black shell bodies.
Praise the waters under the caps of my shoulders, under consciousness.
Wrap real rain around my finger, let it sluice down the sidewalk.
Praise the parting of eyes and the turning of the sea, they are altering
my world.
Yoon Park is a dynamic high school student enrolled at Seoul Academy in Seoul, South Korea. She channels her creative energy into writing and visual art and finds joy in expressing herself through these mediums. Additionally, she has a passion for music and spends her spare time playing the piano or the guitar. Her dedication to her craft has earned her recognition and admission into the prestigious Iowa Young Writers Studio, the Adroit Journal Summer Mentorship Program, and Kenyon Review Young Writers Workshop.
To bestow beauty and lambency For he will continually lust And be doomed to regress Living dignity may dawn anew
Perfection
To bestow grace and purity For he will continually lust And be doomed to regress Living perfection may dawn anew
Fly
The feathers, they fell with starlight Baptizing them one with grace and disorder With the lambency of your final flight You leave behind love in your wake
Fear not the earth and sea beneath you For you shall fear only fear itself And though your wings may be clipped Even Icarus flew in his last moments
Be christened in the chime of your Final hour, the shine of your Blood sweat and tears may christen you Human, even as the vestiges of life leave
A celebration of life is not true Without the clouds of finality on the horizon Remember your fortune, as you wander the skies For one can only live for having died
Seungmin Kim is a diligent scholar who is enrolled in an international school in Hong Kong. He is meticulously curating his compilation of written works to fortify his candidacy for admission to esteemed academic institutions.
I am atop a wispy golden plain with a colourful ombré pattern
But that time is so short. There is danger, too.
Enduring loneliness and cruelty. A dangerous domino effect of consequences will be set off.
Pulled In
Maroon red, lilac purple, amber gold. Aurora colours on the swooping wings Of fragile butterflies. It jumps from leaf To leaf and flashes its grand wings to watchers. A beautiful bright view, the watchers say.
If only their eyes shifted to the side: A moth with dull greyed wings sits on a wall. It is the dark sky—twinkling stars surround it. It is the canvas on which butterflies shine.
Its eyes spot flickering red flames on candles With shining vivid shades like sunset glow. Dull wings take flight, petite feet land on the Melting wax stand. It tiptoes closer, then Too close.
Flame touches, then spreads, then envelopes it. Fire eats its wings, thus forming deadly sheens. Fire steals its limbs in a colossal blur. Remains then sprinkle down as smoky ash. A startling bright view as it fully burns.
Now, I approach the dark tight alley that May be my flame. My mind is on fire, and My daring burns away. But people flutter Around me, mingling, giggling, and make me A shadow like dull grey smoked ashes, yet I am pulled in.
Sea of Sharks
The hallways are crowded, my mind is filled My hand twists the knob, my eyes take in the view The sea of sharks awaits me in their seats All giggling and whispering—most likely at me
I spot the rainbow outside the window, Nothing like the storm inside Both the classroom and my head As I long to run and hide
Grace Lee, a high school student in Seoul, South Korea, is passionate about words. Whether crafting stories or poems, she blends her unique perspective with the vibrant culture of Seoul. Excited to contribute to the literary landscape, Grace’s writing reflects the universal themes of adolescence in a big city.
You will never be lonely You’re the one that I can’t deny with my heart Got you stuck up in my heavy head Cheers to the precious moment we met Cheers to the earnest wish you were here Every hour, every minute, every second, I’ll think of you
Enchanted Forest
I was able to see tree branches making a shelter above me The comfy grass gave me a mattress to sleep
Bright sunshine was rising up to the sky the atmosphere filling up with light on the forest, giving a beautiful glow
Then my eyes met the birds flying in the sky Flying towards me, leaving rainbow trails behind They stood on my shoulder, their colourful fur glowing
A Celestial Journey
running with a useless white suit adding weight lasers were passing right by
I’ve seen the hope empire falls, and the new world forms rest with my fellow friends
run and run until I am out of energy what was the rumble Thought the world was in peace
The Neighbourhood
This is where I played with my friends Chasing each other with bicycles Where I ran into my friends without a blink
This is where my friend lived Our imagination playing together The large house granting us a smile Those were the good old days filed with grins
This is where I lost my fellow bicycle A bicycle which afforded me freedom The place where I wasn’t allowed to play
This is where I lost myself All that was misery Eventually finding the way back home
This is where I first opened my eyes The time was full of mystery All I could do was cry Now I can do a whole lot more
This is where all the goods are sold I bought a bunch But it would disappear with someone’s munch
This is where I suffered The culprit of multiplying -1 to my life The infinite loop of studying All I learned is the pain of education
This is where I got my happiness The place I was free The place I could only release my stress The place I could meet my friends far away
This is the place where I bought my second happiness of life The grey glossy figure The apple on its top After, my life started to change once again in the positive way
This is where I will play again Allowing me go back to the past When it was the good old days
This is where I will study Works are harder and harsher All I wanted was freedom from studying But all I got was more restrictions
This is where I wanted to stay The price was high The money I couldn’t earn until I die I gave it all up all with a sigh
This is where I will die The perfect place for death I would imagine the after life This is the same place where I was born
Dongeon Kim is currently in 6th grade and attends an international school in Seoul, South Korea. He likes to read both graphic novels and chapter books. He also likes to play games and socialize with his friends.
Every human being has something of value, Bonded with
An opaque screen that’s a couple inches in front of our eyes Dangling and gradually sinking
resorted to an intricate string of false and misleading claims, But staying safe with
some sort of deflector shield As if dropped into some dead space in your brain
Your dreams
I’m so gifted at finding Finding your dreams come true
Any time I count sheep That’s the only time I wake
I put my hand on the stove Blunt pain was everything I felt
It was all a dream
917
This where all the lights are broken down Into pieces.
This where the colour grey gives hope to a man. This is where the concrete silver bleaches him white. This where nothing is served cooked; but raw. This where men can say what they want, it’s their cry, not the clash of metals.
This where fairness kills a man, But allows the equity of fancying. I think I wondered Here, but not now. This where a glimpse of a night turns real. This is where too sweet for adults to eat. This where the thoughts are the most innocent But the dirtiest.
I was short, standing there.
This where the sun never drops, Doesn’t matter if it’s shaped by us. This where I built my signpost. This is where I return.
This is where I saw a seal in the middle of green. This where it swam, and danced.
Jin-Woo Ahn is a student at an international school in Seoul, where he explores the intersections of culture, identity, and language through poetry. Drawing inspiration from his multicultural upbringing, Jin-Woo’s work reflects a deep appreciation for the universal human experiences that connect us all. As an emerging poet, he is passionate about fostering community and collaboration within the literary world.
In a new garden I have the biggest hands rusted deer will dream, and they will envy it Those are my summers
i’d wanted to be seventeen that month in the garden In that garden, branches swing high It talks and builds with me
I guess i own this garden some hours in the playground it became dirty to me
What about an unafraid tree? reckless used to slide with a fantasy times with my sister used to always fly
we needed to plant more scared about fading on my own All i see is a stain while seeing my grandparents climb
The cherry could believe it has already bloomed I begged to ride and I couldn’t imagine Could my apartment see these verses?
our grandpa wants to see flowers and visit me My grandma swears she read the bible all house no garden
a cherry plant that never blooms
The garden has a swing set with elephants on them It is rusted and old, The colour is fading away.
The garden has a cherry plant that never blooms My grandpa swears that he saw a flower on it once. I don’t think anyone believes him.
The garden has a dirty slide. I used to ride it with my sister Now I’m afraid that the dirt will stain my clothes.
There is a tree in the garden. It was always taller than me as a child, It was even taller than my parents I would climb it, seeing how high I could go Weaving in and out of the branches, being reckless Unafraid.
Now whenever I climb the tree, The bugs bother me I get soil on my hands I don’t want my clothes to spoil.
A couple times a month my grandma sends me pictures of deer That she saw in the garden She sends me bible verses with them.
As a child, I envied the garden. I begged my parents to let us move to a house with a yard. I could not imagine being stuck in an apartment My dream house became a house with the largest garden I could plant my own flowers, have my own pets, Build my own playground I wanted to be just like my grandpa
Once in a few summers I go visit the garden Nine hours on a plane is all it takes to meet my grandparents All my grandma talks about is the garden. All my grandpa talks about is the new flower on the side.
I don’t envy the garden anymore, though I think i’d be fine with living in an apartment I don’t need the biggest garden or seventeen dogs I guess the garden in my mind was a fantasy. Temporary.
invincible flower
The cold kills Slicing through my veins and Crashing into my skin Tears stain the floor
The cold hurts, Scrape your knee on the snow and it will bleed White snow flooded with red, Traces of murder, And you wonder, what died here?
In the coldest of winters Blooms the most beautiful flowers
Winter is over now, And i’ve found that My tears have become seeds—- Planted in the ground, Ready to flourish Ready to blossom into the warm spring air
The blood is now a red flower It does not die easily It lives through storms It can go without being watered
In the most extreme conditions, My flower can thrive She can flourish, grow faster than any other flower
When winter comes again I don’t need to be Scared Because when the cold kills When it hurts and it bleeds, I know that out of it i will get an invincible flower
Elisa Min is a seventh-grade student with a passion for poetry. She discovered her love for writing at a young age and enjoys exploring themes of nature, identity, and the human experience through her poetry. When she’s not writing, she can be found reading voraciously or spending time outdoors, drawing inspiration from the world around her. She is excited about the possibility of sharing her work with a wider audience.
In three simple words, life’s tale is told, “In three words,” says the poet, “I’ve learned life’s song.” A timeless tune: “It goes on.”
Through sunlight and starless night, The world keeps on turning, Constantly singing life’s song: “It goes on.”
When hope seems dashed and lost The dawn will still bring new dawns, Always singing life’s tune: “It goes on.”
When the late nights get too late, I look to the sunrise, Being reminded that “Life goes on.”
Voices of Nature
Whispers of the breeze Carry secrets into the night Moonlight softly sings.
Morning whispers glow, Dewdrops on the meadow’s breath, Sunrise paints the sky.
Whispers in the trees, Leaves converse in the silence, Nature’s gentle voice.
Winter’s chilly song. Snowflakes dance to its whispers. Stars blink, watching them.
A Disk Around the Sun
Whichever you choose, the route is equally rewarding?
everyone was smiling or laughing
Are we on the cusp of a genuine breakthrough?
Is it a battle for recognition
This dorm was once a madhouse
But that life was too short
Raided and now cornered
I’m still a believer but I don’t know why
Even when you wanna die
Vincent Bae is a student attending an international school in Incheon, South Korea, where he explores themes of identity, tradition, and human connection in his writing. Inspired by the multicultural environment of South Korea, Vincent is passionate about sharing stories that resonate with readers on a profound level. With a commitment to honing his craft, Vincent actively participates in writing workshops and literary events.
I envy the leaves that grow from the trees They’re all so carefree through the seasons, unaware of the fall
How evergreen our group of friends don’t think we’ll say that word again
And I don’t mind bleeding I’m glad we crashed and burned I’ll pack my memories and go The lies you sold me all saw the light of day
You broke me first
bulldozer fish
bulldozers hanging over them like vultures. you can see dying fish, flopping on the dirt ground and drowning in air. they say the world is chaos, others say it is dying. perhaps they are one and the same. drain our air and watch us drown.
a garden in a shoe closet
honey yellow scent of warm potted soil around packed cracking kitchen
murmuring flowers streaming back onto the shoe racks from humming pots
split plants rusted in green sun carved in the coloured tray
stems blossoming through scattered tiny air chatter
petals haphazardly watering the floor wild sweet dirt hanging off dark shoes and cigarettes
tattooed stains of leafy walnut water shimmering stars in the window
Regina Kim is a high school student in Seoul with a fervent love for literature and creative writing. She draws inspiration from her cultural surroundings and personal experiences to craft narratives that resonate with authenticity and emotional depth. Regina’s writing explores themes of identity, belonging, and the human condition, reflecting her curiosity about the world and her desire to connect with others through storytelling. When she’s not writing, Regina enjoys reading classic literature and exploring new cafes in her vibrant city.
I remember It was a sunny bright day and I wore a yellow shirt with princess Belle imprinted on it.
“Catch me if you can!” “Vroom Vroom” “CRASH”
“Rinse with water!”
She screamed in pain. “Be quiet, don’t tell mom! It’s going to be ok.” She held back her tears.
Blood showered the bathroom sink. I tried to rinse it off but the splattered blood dried Gravity pulled hard on my chest.
“I don’t know what to do.” “Can you resist the pain?” She shrieked as the water pricked her scars
The ambulance came. All eyes glared at me. What have I done?
Now I have outgrown my yellow Belle shirt But that stain of blood on it, had not been erased.
The contract says: Perhaps in the future we will all be one
When you come, bring your brown -ness so we can be sure to please The publishers.
Share and pass on the stories from the griots. Be sure to reminisce and remember what had happened. Don’t forget.
Will they tell us stories that make us feel Uncomfortable? Will they value something That we have never heard of?
Almost like a black hole. Their thoughts are unclear. Thoughts are filtered. Thoughts are dragged into darkness by the force of gravity.
Wish we could drop a mouse into their poems See the way it probes his way out. Wish we could know more about their maze of thoughts.
There’s more to learn. There always will be. But now, inquiry fades away and people became reluctant to learn.
Perhaps in the future, diversity is acknowledged and valued Perhaps in the future, We will all be one.
Ah-young Dana Park is a creative seventh grader who loves to bring her imagination to life through both writing and art. This is her first submission to a literary magazine, marking the beginning of what she hopes will be a lifelong journey in the creative arts.
