“That Red Balloon” by Lela

It was a grey evening.
Fall was beginning and the coldness lurked around our
town like a big heavy blanket.
The trees shook while the wind blew my hair all
over my face. I looked up at those dark clouds
covering the sky. The moon peeked out from
behind one. It was so reliable. Always
there. Just as you left it.
Then, I saw it. That red balloon.
It was just floating. Going
so high, swaying in whatever
direction the wind took
it, but always going
up. Always, always, going
up. Getting higher, getting
more free, getting away.
That red balloon, flying
so free. I wish I could
be just like that red
balloon, swaying in the wind
but always going up — until
it popped. It would pop
on a tree branch in the
way, blocking its path
to freedom. Blocking it from going to where it felt it
belonged.

“Me” by Atticus Elsass

The crickets croak like dying dogs
I sit alone.
Nothing to help me
I was nothing.
Nobody believed me when I said I was
normal,
That I thought the same way
I turn on the lights
I am exposed.
I am me.
Then I am shamed and shunned.
Until I decide
that hiding me is for the better.
And I know what I have to
do.
I tried and tried to ignore,
Hate, and fights galore
I am pushed around
as I hear that cricket sound.
I am not alone.
But that doesn’t change anything.
In fact, it makes it
worse.
Knowing that others are facing the
same.
I must hide
Until the crickets recede
And I can be free
as who I am.
I turn off the lights
and curl up and wait…

Untitled by Anonymous

I was meant to be happy
Most of all jolly
Every leaf represented me
One day
A girl came
She leaned on me
and took my angry leaf.
I couldn’t get mad at her
Another day
An old lady came
She said, “Ooh, what a beautiful purple leaf.”
And took my disgust leaf.
I couldn’t be disgusted by her
The next day
A little boy came
He sat near me
And took my fear leaf
I couldn’t be fearful for the rest of my leaves
The week after
A man came
He talked to me
And took my sadness lead
I couldn’t be sad that he took my leaf
A month after
A woman came and sang to me
She took my joy leaf
I couldn’t be jolly anymore
After that I felt no emotions
I felt nothing.

*Inspired by Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree.

“Expression” by Anonymous

I am a grenade ready to explode
through the invisible glass barrier
they keep me in. Whenever I stand
tall , and strong, they always put a
hot hand on my head and shrink
me. Clasping me into the small flower
seed that worked so hard to grow
out of.

This place needs expression, this place
needs to let petals of color unfurl
in the wind and grasp the plain
things that stealthily bore this place.

I try to help. I walk on the gray
cobblestones, letting my feet splatter
paint on them. I try to shine, shine
brighter than the veneer they spread on
wood floors.

But everyone worries. And that
worry blinds them, it blinds them
from seeing past the plainness.
That’s why they shrink me.

Untitled by Anonymous

I stand next to a house,
Large and made of glass
I see that there are people inside
But I’m fated to never go in
I’m still, watching idly
Their movements, expressions, emotions
Yet though I listen, no sound comes through
I’m fated to never go in
The glass is pristine, not a spot to be seen,
But to touch it’s fire on my flesh
I have nowhere to go, I must stare at this house
That I’m fated to never go in
I try to scream, no stir from inside
They don’t see me, they’re laughing along
I’m watching them, they can’t see me,
It seems I just can’t win.
So here I stand, waiting, longing,
In perpetual loneliness, seems I’m stuck
Outside that big glass house
Still fated to never go in.

“Song to Myself” by Stella Gleitsman

Song to myself.
Sweet song to all of the parts of me that make me wince in the dark.
Lullaby to my bad and blurry memory
Sonnet to all of the times I have woken at 5pm and treated it like morning,
My heart’s houses and rooms are full of lonely people staring very solemnly at the wall. The walls are white and clinical. They smell like hospital soap and the starchy taste of a pill.
In the back of the house there is a love song shrieking from of a stereo that sounds like bones rattling, sounds like pouring sugar into cuts to make them taste sweet, what goes between the cracks on the sidewalk, all the gum and dirt and clues of life that live between those small and unexplored walls of cement.
At the edge of my lungs contains a warm shallow pond that sits stagnant. It is not familiar with enveloped or kissing flesh.
I am a poet of the Body and I am a poet of the Soul.
I tear apart the body like a wolf until I think I see a soul peeking out from within the guts.
Turns out it is all just dead air down there.

*Inspired by Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself.

“Lonely Boy” by Gio Lee

The lonely boy is lonesome, no doubt
That should be rather obvious, to a fault
The lonely boy is lonesome, but in exactly what way?
Is he just really lonely? Or does he push people away?

The lonely boy watches while the people walk along
With their fancy little dresses, on their way to a prom
He longs for it and envies them, for he will always know
That no one will ever love him. At least, not enough to show

The lonely boy is lonesome, and though he wishes it weren’t so
He just can’t help but love it, pushing people about
To push them in and away, an endless game to play
Forever ruining the life he just longs for himself.

The lonely boy cries while the people walk along
With their judgy little thoughts, on their way to and from
He does not care for it and hates them, for he will always know
That no matter how many people say no, he’ll always be alone

“I Dreamed a Dream” by Anonymous

As my eyes droop, ready for sleep
My head is filled, with my heart’s desire
I want to grow old, with someone deep
To spend my life next to one I admire
I fear the one will never arrive
A setting sun that has not shone
Across the river I see him stride
Will I float in the water chilled to the bone                                                                          Or swim with grace to the other side
To meet the one and build a home
And to never, ever be alone.

“Waiting on a Text Back” by Anonymous

three dots, appear and disappear.
anticipation builds
you’re typing a paragraph — maybe a love song or a sonnet
(i’m a sucker for well-done iambic pentameter)

“lol” “yeah” “ha”
“k”

it’s funny how one letter can make you feel like someone ripped out your organs
(not to be dramatic, or anything)

the dots are back!

gone again. probably you were writing out a poem describing how he loses his breath and his train of thought every time i walk in the room until you got too self-conscious to send it. probably

you probably hate me

this is so stupid!
stupidstupidstupid who cares if you don’t write me back right away or at all because it’s not like it matters or anything because i have better things to do because i’m honestly a very busy pers-

“see you tmrw :)”
the smiley-face emoticon lights up my screen and my heart
dumb, stupid smile
“see you”