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by Alexis Tolkkinen Once there was a flower so jealous of a tree she wondered to herself, “why can’t that be me?”. And once there was a tree so jealous of a vine he wondered to himself “why can’t those leaves be mine?. The tree stood tall through ages and the flower brightened eyes, the branches cast a cool shadow and the flower pollen feeds butterflies. Though they both are truly lovely they want to be something they are not the fact of life is even fair roses wish They were a river rock. Alexis is a writer from xenia, Ohio.

by Kaleb Scope rubies sapphires gold silver but there’s always one that stands out to me the one colored like envy and jealousy, the one that stands at the forefront of worshipped monarchs and hated dictators alike, the one incredibly precious stone, that brought me so much joy and happiness when i was a child: emeralds. Kaleb Scope is a young writers who enjoys having creative discussions, to worldbuilding, to collaborations, and more with various writers. She believes that connection is crucial to live a meaningful life

by Elena Ferrari after the Buddhist “Parable of the Mustard Seeds” let’s look again for mustard seeds to glue to our cheeks the way no one else could: brushed down to the jaw and under. there wasn’t light and we weren’t supposed to be crying. (it is possible to stifle desire like an under-oxygenated candle). you raveled out the wires of our sweaters from brambles and we knew good things couldn’t come to us. with every second we plummeted from the path Elena Ferrari is a junior and attends a high school on the East Coast. She has been writing poetry for as long as she can remember, trying to jot down the microscopic and sweeping pieces of the world around her on stray napkins and scrap paper. She greatly appreciates the freedom and abstractness poetry involves as the art of endeavoring to capture fractured moments in countless different modes. She has been recognized regionally and nationally by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards and Smith College and is published or forthcoming in The WEIGHT Journal, Blue Marble Review, and others.

by Morouje Sherif Snap her wrists into flowers and drown her in the Mississippi River. Protocol unheard, gashing out some blood tinted yellow. Poor thing. Where the eye meets the eye, a girl dives into the trough head-first, dirtying her overalls. The blisters on her palms like popcorn ruptured skin. Every morning the same big and little words spill out like desire. Mother’s in the kitchen and I can barely see time on the counter. I want applesauce. Like I always want more. Like the embryos are rattling soil-deep to be freed. She said Get out of the yard! So I went to take a look-see and found Mojave in the face. Shaking my head, I let her go on. I apologized, and went back to sleep feeding myself princess stories and lead. Morouje Sherif is an Egyptian-Canadian writer and artist. Growing up in the Mediterranean, she has a vicarious thrill for feel-good compositions and the traverse of truth. Her work has appeared in The Poetry Society of the U.K., Foyle Young Poets of the Year, the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, Subnivean, The Fish Barrel Review, Plum Tree Tavern, INKSOUNDS, Outlander Magazine, among others. In her free time, she enjoys gazing at the horizon.

by Audrey Wang Wind swallowed mud and whipped my hair across my face I wonder why, under this sky the rainbow is the color of dirt - a crusty texture of soil as if it vomited out all its color and decided to choke down autumn dried leaves instead of boiling them into tea Naughty specks of rain stained my white top. The rain tasted of dirt. “Foreign beliefs shall not sink into my skull,” I whispered as I rubbed my temples with tiger balm and tried to scratch out every memory that clung on My feet felt like pudding as it dragged along the blades of grass, walking for days and nights until I reached the end of the rainbow, and - sitting there, was a bonsai tree tender, malachite leaves that glowed even in the rainy weather Veins of the trunk a story of a thousand years its shape miniature yet sturdy and deeply rooted, never old Audrey Wang is high school sophomore who has a strong passion for writing poetry. She lives in Shanghai, China and goes to international school. Audrey is a member of her school’s literary magazine club and a member of the National English Honor Society, and has participated in the Kenyon Review Workshop this winter. Apart from creative writing, she enjoys reading romantic fiction, playing the violin, and video editing.

by Emily Chen He commands, Don’t even need to talk; With a simple gesture, He can mobilize an entire army, have an entire symphony orchestra play for him, have the table covered with sumptuous dishes, have ministers and knights kneeling at his feet, have women serve him. Everyone wants to become him, No pains, no worries, no hunger Everything. I am the most gracious among the people, I am the highest in the country; “Majesty” they called me; They get down on one knee, They put their right hand on their chest, They kiss the back of my hand. But where is love? Where are the love, intimacy, and family that I longed for from the day I sit on the throne and take the crown? I could not feel any of them, but coldness, but interest, but hypocrisy; I am an island, Above but apart from the rest of the world. Everyone wants to become me except me. A machine, an institution. Emily Chen is a 10th grader from Shanghai, China. Her interests span literature, gender studies, and economics. She is committed to promoting gender equality and has posted some book reviews and creative writing through social networks. She likes to travel, listen to music, and paint pictures. She is extremely excited to join this writing community, writing poems, reading poems, and doing graphic design for the poems!

by Hasini Peyyala For the poinsettias The land is desolate The cold creeps in from every angle Like dull sand from the beach It's all so bleak And lifeless Untethered, untethered There's a gap in the space between the grass and the first snowfall It's masked by the white whole But exposed by the snow angels and the track prints Three snowflakes left the clouds To settle a half-dead tree To the heavens they never returned, But made dew on the leaves And a poinsettia was born Hasini is a current junior in high school. She is an avid reader. She enjoys writing and playingh board ghames in her free time.

written by Taya Boyless

Explore the limitless expression of creativity through poetry Intro to YOUR POETRY WRITIE POET is a community aiming to provide people with opportunities to express themselves through writing poetry. In spite of not having limits to creativity, having the opportunity to share your creativity is limited. YOUR POETRY is a step towards change. A short poem/quote you’ve written or found in the middle of a sleepless night or after a long tiring day of work can move someone’s emotions. You will never know how those poems/quotes can impact a person unless you start sharing them! Anyone’s poems/quotes can be shared through our website or social media platforms as long as the poem/quote has a passionate meaning. We hope that writers can get to realize the importance of connecting with other people and the importance of continuing to create! If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to email us! Enjoy writing! Read. Write. Share. Change. writiepoet@gmail.com

Explore the limitless expression of creativity through poetry Intro to our Poetry Magazine WRITIE POET is a community aiming to provide people with opportunities to express themselves through writing poetry. Poetry Magazine will contain a poem and a long specific description of an event or a meaning the poem is trying to give out. Believing that there is no limit to creativity, various poems are published. Outstanding poems are selected and published on our website and literary magazine through writers’ submissions. Readers will be able to interact with a variety of articles and get inspired by our writings. All selected poems will be credited to the writers. If you are a writer who is interested in publishing poems for our magazine, please don’t hesitate to submit a writing! Enjoy reading and writing! Read. Write. Share. Change. writiepoet@gmail.com

written by anonymous