Poetry Essay/Prose
Short Story

Those words severed the chain
that bound me to the earth.
They set me free,
a caged eagle,
Dying to spread my wings and fly high.
High above the confined world below,
Climbing to new altitudes of liberation,
Throwing all pain and affection away.

Words that were meant to bring such pain,
Instead brought so much release.

I am never to be captured again.

11th grader
Bowling Green, Ohio
About the author of "Bound". This is dedicated to MW with the hope that someday I can truly feel that release. Also to CT whose work inspires me everyday to become a better poet. This is my fourth poem published on TeenLit and I still can't believe it. Thank God I'm talented at something. --Halley
Truth or You

In dreams I live,
In truth I die.
Therefore I dream,
Therefore I lie.
Myself alone I do deceive.
What is a dream,
I shall perceive as truth,
Yet dream the more.
For truth I hate,
And you I adore.

11th grader
Canton, Massachusetts

HOnk HOnk

o’ soundless moving
time o’er time
to move & run go

to move & feel breathing

deep breathless beauty

dear to me & marvelousness
is in those clouds

how they roll & turn
& color swap as
so desired & designd

such beauty is in that sky
my sky
that I see

It can move o’er eternity

Chesterfield, VA
About The Author:
Im 18
I love music
My band is called Angel Mine
my favorite author/poet is Jack Kerouac
So Perfect

I looked at you and you smiled at me,
From that moment, I knew we were meant to be.
We went out that Friday night,
The stars were dancing and the moon shined bright.
Everything about you was just so fine,
I was up in heaven, cloud number nine.
What could I do, what could I say,
You made it perfect, that beautiful day.
I thought it was impossible
there could exist someone so wonderful.
But I guess it's true,
'cause there is you.

9th grader
New York, New York
About The Author:
well, i'm a 15 yr old nyc grl. i love writing, although poetry is pretty new to me. this poem expresses that special intoxicated feeling of being in love...:-)
Stumbling Upon My Savior

Sitting on a hammock
Swinging from a tree
I know where I can find you
That's where you'll always be

Lying in a vacant field
I found you there one day
I was running from my problems
And you didn't run away

It seemed that you looked lonely
So I came to see your face
But I found I was the lonley one
Seated by your grace

And I will run again one day
And you will always stay
Right where I first found you
A glimpse of heaven far away

Sitting on a hammock
Swinging from a tree
I can find you everywhere
That's where you'll always be

10th grader
About the author of Stumbling upon my Savior
 This is my first entry to teenlit, and this is my only poem that
symbolizes my feelings and relationships, my soul, quite so well. It is dedicated to my savior, of whose love I am so unworthy.
Beauty:  My definition of

I think of myself in shoes that shift. In shoes that
never know how to say:
I love you.

I don't understand the simple mathematics of beauty --
the adding and subtracting that trees and flowers grasp so easily.
I fumble the equation around,
mistaking two's for three's and shiny hair for dull strands.

I think beauty is the perfect girl holding onto the perfect life,
clutching a white mansion cluttered with
white appliances that never break down;
a family that can never break down.

I want a beauty that says:
look at me boys and girls; I am mother nature incarnate.
Or: Look at me,
I am heaven with my eyes that glitter
and my guitar that sings. I am amazing with my words that scream,

whisper, and run up the leg of your pants.
I am so far beyond you with my intelligence that your feeble mind
can never catch me, not even the sleeve of my shirt.

You'll glance behind your shoulder, and you'll
see the silhouette of my beauty -- distorted and vague.

I am told that I don't know the definition of true ugly --
fire burn ugly or glass shatter ugly, scar ugly or bruise ugly,
but I do know plain.

I grow plain in a garden that weeps at night
and says: Give us the chance to come out.
Give us the sunlight and oh, we'll bloom like nursery rhymes to your ears,
sweet sounding and twisting into ballet leotards.

I walk plain in the hips of my jeans,
the way my stomach bulges there
but never curves where it counts
I pat my plain on everyday I do my makeup,
slapping on the mascara,
making those eyelashes one stroke longer
and those eyes one sparkle brighter.
I know plain like a best friend
that gossips behind my back to all
of the other much prettier girls.

I listen to you sing the lyrics to "cops" like there your anthem in life.
I hum it along as your head bobbles to the television screen.
Your face is blue from the lighting
while mine is orange from my hiccups and streaked makeup that
I couldn't quite repair.
Finally, I turn my head away
because my mind is blurred between sleeping and waking.
But how I jump for slumber;
how I jump for white sheets.

My dreams say to me:
Hey wait girl, you can't be pretty, you silly one.
You can't always get the punchline right.
The lines I write say to me:
Girl, you are perfect the way you can control your friends
and your heart-shaped face appearing in the next soap opera romance.
You be Layla and I'll be your boyfriend
and we will be happy like happy never knew how to be.
You can be called beautiful and I'll be your best friend, Libby.
We can laugh all of the time
and make all the others jealous.

I could read my days into hard cover fiction stories,
ballads of turmoil and girls in daisy print dresses.
My two's and three's could switch places for a while
and my eyes could be wide as though all-American glow bugs.

My mind cannot understand things,
like the separation between reality and me,
like why I can't hug her face,
wrapped up in the loud piano and the soft b flats
or why I can't hug myself for that matter.

11th grader
About the author of Beauty; My deffinition of.
I am a sixteen year old girl. I wrote this a long time ago, it's one of my favorite pieces.  My friends told me I should try to get it published, so here goes nothing(everything?)
This Crazy Head Of Mine

Endless nights spent;
Trying to point out the virus in me
The devil forgotten
The demon that alters my mind
Mainly gearing towards her,
Like last night,
It deliberately kept me from holding her hand long enough
And later,
>From calling her the second I got home
It's even gone so far
As to mess with my memories
The fiend took away my recollections
Of when I've actually done such things
So you see
That's why I have to go
I can't point him out
And it’s getting worse
So she says
He's becoming me
But I'm not scared
I think he's always been there
I'm a scary demon
She better get used to it

10th grader
Stanhope, New Jersey
About The Author:
Umm, I'm not a poet or anything. I just like writing down stuff. I like to write songs and stories too.
When the lights go out

Love, how can you describe it?
It's soft and breathtaking,
it caresses your soul,
warms you on cool nights,
holds your hand when you're alone,
takes you to places you only dream,
makes you think of someone else before yourself,
Rocks you gently to sleep
it's as amazing as miracles, or the sky full of stars,
more beautiful than a sunset,
more preciuos than a diamond,
It always gives second chances,
but it is as fragile a glass sculpture,
if you don't treasure it, it disappears,
it becomes nothing but tears, sleepless nights, heartbreak and betrayal,
it can be like night and day,
it may turn out to be the most wonderful thing to happen,
or the most regretful.

11th grader
Overland Park, Kansas
About the author of Love. I am a junior at Shawnee Mission East in Kansas City. In the last 3 years I have loved one person more than any other in the world. He taught me about what I never thought possible to learn about at such a young age. No he has decided after waiting for me for 2 years he needs more time away from me. Which hurts more than any words can explain but I know it will turn around. Hold on tightly to the one you love.

As the evening fell across the mountain
like an evening falling across a mountain
I stood in the shadow of the mountain,
and while,
the sun created a halo for the mountain
and the songbirds flew to the top of the mountain
and the trees blew in the wind from the mountain,
I realized my beauty was in my littleness.

12th grader
Richfield, Maine
About The Author:
Benjamin is seventeen and has been writing poetry for the last four years.  He is currently working on a novel
Bathed in Tears 

As I am bathed in tears
 I am submersed in emotion.
I find myself,
 Through humility.
As I am bathed in tears
 I am washed with courage.
I look at myself,
 Through new eyes.
As I am bathed in tears
 I am cleansed with new hope.
I will trust myself,
 Through these times.
As I am bathed in tears
 I am born again.
I will ready myself,
 Through my struggle.

8th grader
Poway, California
Wishing Well

As I look out my window,
I see a bright and sunny day.
Everything is optimistic and cheerful.
There is life out there,
And yet I remain inside.
It's amazing-
Only yesterday there was a storm,
But today all is peaceful.
I wish I could sit on that cloud up there
And watch life go by.
It looks so serene up above-
Clouds drifting slowly,
And the sky a beautiful blue.
I wish I could get over a storm
As easily as the sky does.
But I do not have a penny
And I do not have a wishing well.

10th grader
Westfield, New Jersey
About the author of Wishing Well. I wrote this poem after being frustrated about constant change.
would you?

When you were still in my midst
I could tell you anything
I could dream
I could smile
I would be full of content
Now that you are gone
I hide everything
Because I am ashamed
If you were here now
Would you still love me?
And be there for me?
And hug me when
everything has gone wrong?
Would you be proud
To call me your daughter?
Would you?

11th grader
Collingwood, ON, Canada
The Fall of a Sparrow

Naked closed eyes each begotten from fools
"Séjour a fermé!" they scream in fear, and they do
A queen of shreds and patches,
I sit and wait and wonder, my task only to sit and hope
I spit upon those merry men who seem so noble
So worthy to crash me down, and they do
Those phantasmic dragons take no stand in the marble of pity
But deem to set fire to my every effort,
So very often do I watch the mortal creations burn
As is their right they say and no one says otherwise
In my knowledge, my every deed an apple,
Bitten so secretly yet known so well,
But still I seem to be left behind in incoherent darkness
I say there seems to be a divinity that shapes our ends
Yet my homemade candle cannot illuminate the crossroad
Nor can I find my lamp that I thought I lost, but never had
I sit and wait in a countenance more in sorrow than anger
Though ambivalent emotion froths forth from the depths
And chaos sprays a shout of vile, corrupt wisdom upon my thought
A thousand misguided arrows point to the wrong ending,
Misjudgment I can see creeping behind my unstable cogitation
And every second I watch it swipe away a little more of my sanity
Little chimeras prance from here to here,
Slowly spewing one reality into the next until they mingle
Sending hopes, fears, thought into infinite snarls
I ponder and harass my chaotic thoughts, yet
They always gather that any darkness is as welcome as the one already come
Though nothing is left for me to ponder, nor to deem it darkness
I wander and wonder and still find nothing worth my effort
I know time is out of joint, Horatio lies beside Yorick
So I find myself the predestined rogue and slave
That my whipping was deserved of
Nothing gained, nor lost for that matter,
For nothing lived before nothing itself
The other side beckons me, drives me unto madness
Until life becomes a meaningless welt, driven by hunger
My aching words form symbol, symbol form words, until all blurs
And I am left with nothing but a mass of shriveled mess
I've stood too long as my own weary traveler
I sit and wait, but nothing but reality is recalled
Ancient iron from a midnight ramble, now a mass of rust
My canvas is dry and the paint crusted, it flitters away in the wind
Veterans Boulevard takes its last sweltering gasp
And now I can take my one final laugh

11th grader
About the author of The Fall of a Sparrow:
I wrote this one for me
A Lost Shadow

A shadow walking in the night
not knowing where to go.
A lost soul without a mind
to tell what it needs to know.
It walks amelessly around
supported by the night.
While it looks ahead
to a world full of fright.

A shadow walking in the night
with no one by its side.
It watches all the pain
with nothing to sheild its eyes.
Its lonely suffering
stays in its mind.
Until the day when the darkness dies
and the shadow can see the light.

9th grader
Phillipsburg, New Jersey
About the author of A Lost Shadow. my name is Jessi and I have writing since I was in 4th grade. My biggest love in the world is writing. This is my first real publication and I hope not the last.

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