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Join us for our first annual create-a-thon fundraiser!
Join us for an interactive evening of adult fun through creating!
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Lago Su Bella
Big red letters arch over my head as I walk through the front doors under the “Lago Su Bella” sign.
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Tulips
By Jordan Muscal, 17, Texas INT. GROCERY STORE, MORNING The automatic doors of a grocery store open. The AC buzzes loudly. Through the speakers, a country radio station blasts. A…
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Desired
By Malakhi Tanner, 17, Michigan I wanted so dearly to run forward, to steal myself a purpose, but feared grasping at hanging, tawdry fruit—rotten produce, neglected offspring of the tree.…
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Dear Mother
By Amanda Reid, 15, Illinois Dear Mother, You pushed me to do stuff I didn’t know I could do, Believing in me when no one else did, Always having faith…
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Drowning
Men are born at the bottom of the mountain, impoverished and indigent; they are told to climb the cliffs and that they will die alone...
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Comparison
Emily Biwer, 17, Wisconsin I stand facing this person, all I can see are her flaws. Comparing every bit of unattractiveness of her features. Her face, the reddening of acne…
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What Is This Feeling
Maybe it's Monachopsis, The feeling of being out of place. Or Athazagoraphobia, The fear of being left or abandoned.
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From Book Nerd to Gym Girlie
I was an asthmatic child, prone to wheezing and walking instead of running laps around the gymnasium during P.E.
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Intense Emotions
being abandoned feels like mourning a death
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Why Does Poetry Matter?
Our eyes see it. Our brain longs for it. For a connection.
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Her Skirt (a trio of vignettes)
A bit of pink. A bit of tulle. A bit of floof. I grab the fabric as it poofs up from the yellow cover of the bouncy bed.
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Sunlight and Trees
Birds and I sing together, I dance with grass – I climb the trees.
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The Flip Side
If only you saw the flipside The other side of the me that you see.
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Study For My Dream
Morpheus always shows me the same thing when I go with him. Just a window.
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At Ease
At six months old I started to pick out my own clothes. My face would light up when my mom opened my closet for me. She would hold me up…
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Treading History
The darkest days of history begin not with pestilence and paper-burning
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Collection of Sijo Poetry
Sijo is a Korean traditional form of poetry. Sijo is written in three lines, each with four groups of 1-5 syllables with a total of 14-16 syllables per line.
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Demystifying networking in undergrad: a failure and a success
When I heard the term “networking” growing up, it conjured images of men in suits playing pool in a cigar smoke-filled back room of a dingy bar.
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Metamorphosis
Can you hear the crisp pull of skin peeling off my lips? My eyelids? My wrist?
