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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    It's shadow eyes, And screen lit nights for these kids The days begin Or end at 2, 3, 4 AM sleeping hours traded like pokemon cards between classes Yielding binders like shields, hair behind ears, backs bent with words on too many pages with too many pen -stained, sore, sleepi...
  • Fiction > Historical Fiction
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    I used to think that houses grew like trees. Reaching, stretching, expanding. Never stopping. I told myself that was why some families had big houses and other families had small ones. For me, that was why in Cuba our house was big with marble floors and glass windows. But here, in America, we had a...
  • Fiction > All Fiction
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    A maiden with white hands and rose touched ivory cheeks wipes a small blue handkerchief across her face. Her sun-kissed blonde ringlets line the soft edges of her young face. Her piercing blue eyes dart about. She sits in a frill-drenched dress on the edge of the park. At exactly half past nine she ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Mary’s outfit isn’t matching It is a cover broken Does she care? Mary sighs a symphony It sings Like a lark Does she know? Mary walks a one-way street Over air Alone Can she stop? Mary is fading Into the wind In a dark sky Is she invisible yet? Mary is gone. Did you know?...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The child lies in the middle Of an open road Empty hands lie limp Shirt torn Skin smeared with the dirt Of a man less fortunate This child is waiting The world Playing a game of uneven give and take he doesn’t know what fairness feels like Then as the light drifts through The cle...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    In every story there is A leader In every song A soloist In every race A winner But what about The one who followed Who sat by the step of ambition And was lead by others Where is he? Who caught the Leader When he stumbled Who questioned Making the leader develop Opinions When the...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I am me. You are you. You can’t tell me what to Do Or say My soul won’t listen Anyway My soul is the wind Which cannot Stop Cannot be controlled Some may say I am Stubborn. But I say I am me....
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    It takes someone special to change your life, and Mary changed mine. I met Mary the summer before fourth grade. Mary came up to me with the same exuberance that you use to meet an old friend that you haven’t seen in a while. “Hello,” she said, “My name is Mary and I don’t wanna be your ...

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