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.
A rose In hollow plains Bristling the wind Whispering to horizon
A rose listens Charming tingles it feels Waiting for the man Flourishes towards horizon
A rose listens and hums Fluttering on each rhythm Following the footsteps Notes float on horizon
A rose listens Bleeds from herself Gazing at the man Covered in horizon
A rose In hollow plains The warmth she felt Remembers in the thorn
Lost in Blue
Remember life
You used to be so blue
Satisfied if I play along
First embrace I shared with you
Above us, only sky
I can paint the world
It was all just make believe
Moving Further
This is where the race begins
With all might they pedal and climb
Until they let go and stride with the wind
This is where they build
The more, the better
The bigger, the better
This is where a child wonders
On pirate ships,
Afraid of touching the lava
This is where she hides
Laughter surrounds
Until the name is called
This is where a girl cannot go
Tries to reach,
Moves further away
Jian Yeo is a student of poetry based in Massachusetts, where the changing seasons and scenic landscapes serve as a constant source of inspiration for her work. She is currently a student, balancing her academic pursuits with her passion for writing.
When your heart starts beatin’ It’s no wonder that its’ love
Your blood is Pressing your advantage Of your creed
Fear Is crystal clear.
Gardens
and gardens hummingbirds head for Bees plants come from your sides the fruits nectar is the life creating as when Looking and when fruit pleasantly falls too a buzzing bounces of the skin an apple which was way too beautiful also falls we digest their unintentionally taste surrounding sugar With bees A beautiful sad space Gardens, sunflowers and tree
I’ve Never Seen a Governor Shoot a Pup Before
I expected sweet and somewhat kind
But Kristi Noem my master was not that refined
She acted strange, and then did more,
I’ve never seen a lady shoot a pup before
It’s time to hunt. She knows what’s up…
But she’s not hunting for some deer, she’ll shoot a pup!
A puppy’s dead, at her front door,
I wonder why nobody saw it there before
Sean Kim is a high school student living in California who finds joy in the written word. Sean Kim’s writing has been recognized in local competitions, and he is eager to share his voice with a broader audience.
Life is absurd In the world of spinning electrons and quantum states Boredom reproduced with creativity is a way to say who you are silently Opens the new generasion To allow human civilization to function under a masquerade of “normalcy”
Envy
Leave all the viridis madness Green with envy like vegetables Lift off, past the moon wearin’ my truth call me carpet Why so serious
Unknown
This is where the childhood summer memories are Fountain water splashed across the ground under my pink crocs no longer runs
This is where winter strikes first cold, but not quite alone
This is a place for the ones in red to rest til green Strong against light, but weak against water
This is where predictions were made might be slightly certain, as time drifts away
This is where all the burdens were to be unloaded temporary, but hopeful An oasis
This is where I believed in the beauty of unknown turned out to be known, never to be re-unknown
Lauren Kim is a high school student with a fervent love for both poetry and visual art. Her work delves into the intricacies of identity, the nuances of nature, and the emotional currents of teenage life. Through her poems and mixed media artwork, Lauren seeks to capture and convey the beauty in moments of introspection and everyday experiences. When she’s not writing or creating art, she enjoys exploring the outdoors, reading contemporary poetry, and experimenting with new artistic techniques. Lauren’s work has been influenced by her diverse cultural background and her deep connection to the natural world. She aspires to continue growing as an artist and a writer, sharing her unique perspective with others.
A seamstress working from home in the 90s I barely know this wall, so new wood dust drifts to the ground with each chatter from the machine on the other side. I rub my hand on plywood, rough like miners’ calloused fingers.
I creep through to that room at the back of the garage, ironclad with cold, daylight forcing through a window, grazing only walls, cobwebs and bags brimming with hosiery.
Gripping the door handle, I watch— glasses on the bridge of her nose, hands steady in fingerless gloves, breath billowing like clouds of steam— until her red-rimmed eyes meet mine.
Robert Cutillo is a writer who explores dysfunctional relationships, family, childhood, loss, grief, loneliness, bullying, power and work life. His short story Blacksticks blue was recently published at Literally Stories. Robert also recently completed his MA in Creative Writing at the University of Derby. In his dissertation, he explored the negative effects neoliberalism is having on charities and the people they support, drawing on his own experiences of having worked in the sector.
1961 – the wall has been built once sixty-one stars glowed over the native land the East Germany rife with butterflies sparkled in the night the Western Germany full of west wood garlics glinted in the evening the fall of the Berlin Wall was an indulgence then shooting stars fell down at the moonglow the night reveals the policies with the most amazing dreams the dream about roses from 1935 was killed forever by the murkiness of comets that never could be blazing fiercely the night crawled the German Bundestag was light-filled by all kinds of lights of the new wizardry thousands of laws are glistering at the stars-shine the myth of Germany is an ancient legend from the emperor Otto the Great the history is a night rainbow awakened in some dreameries of a dazzling thinker Hitler wants to be forgotten forever and for sempiternity of a night sorcery
(glister –glitter)
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.
