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  • Hot Topics > Bullying
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    Sam, I met you in the first grade. I wonder if you remember, as vividly as I do, when I came into your class as the new kid in October and the first thing you did was share your Cheetos with me. Although I was just a foreign boy whom you had just met, you showed me so much kindness on my first da...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Hide my passions from wandering eyes, And be the lone holder of these secrets of mine. We’ll speak in whispers as I fade at night, ‘Cause this is a tale between only you and I. But it can’t be long until I confess these lies. This trust, these hints, too much just to hide. I tug the fa...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    You said no flowers, but I am the gardener. The artist of Eden who draws in wrapped sheets. The mosaic maker. The portrait painter. The creative thinker behind this masterpiece. This art is for the receiver. For you, the gardener has gone to work. You’re the medium. You’re the theme. I ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The artist’s life is short and sweet, And as I lay dying, I wished to brush these, Burdens off my chest, of secrets I’ve kept. To brush them on you, who smiled as I slept. And as death drew close, I drew you closer, In hopes that I’d bethink your fugitive face, And as I lay dying, I cr...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Hilltops mask the horizon’s smile. Blank-paged poems dot the fields ahead. Held by hands that cannot be held, The road is bleak with no trace of the start. Lose my eyes borne in thorns of rose, And write away the trees steadfast. Hearty minds grasp fleeting goals, As the wind blows toward...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    If love wrote in pencil I could have erased, But love writes in pen and I couldn’t save face. Now reduced to a monologue in this endless dialogue; A mindless soliloquy in a heartless love song. Fell for love once and fell in love thrice, But should’ve thought twice before I rolled cup...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I’d like to tame you, my wild horse, and feed you golden wheat. I’d like to sew wings to your silver back and ride you through the clouds, soar, high up yonder into the sun where Apollo is sleeping. I’d like to sing you a lullaby as soft as the unturned earth beneath your feet – Mother...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    So thrice it's come to pass, an annual phenomenon it seems. A bittersweet ending to an incomplete romance, and seldom does it mimic a dream. Although the sands still quietly trickle, the grains, they look like ashes to me, so stagnant and concrete, like stone, as if the beach broke its prom...

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