Student Poems
Jalyn Brewington
Rogers High School Senior
inspired by Thanksgiving images
I held it all inside of my heart.
I held the pain, I held the anger, I held the grief.
I pushed everyone away who tried to help me.
I became a walking time bomb, always releasing the bitterness on the wrong person.
My heart had been chained, hidden from anyone to read.
I wanted to explode, someone to hold it for me, but I was alone in the end.
I started to lose it all.
I started to make people hate me before they realized what a mess I was,
how destructive I had become.
All I wanted was freedom.
Freedom from the pain, freedom from being hurt, freedom from holding it all in.
No one can hold so much before blowing up, and then after everyone I hurt.
I realized, maybe destroying myself will bring a bit of peace.
Then, in the ashes, there will be a tiny flame looking out, looking for comfort.
If I pick the flame up and hold it to my heart, I can finally see the edge.
I could build another version of the same person
I could throw away the pain and the grief.
I could finally be free of torment.
I could live my life with no regrets.
But how do I tell myself, that the pain is who I am?
And what if I don’t want to change?
Then I’m just a bomb, stuck in a loop,
constantly deciding if I should remake myself or suffer through who I am.
Josie Quick
Toledo Technology Academy
Grade Ten
04/16/21
Where Do I Belong?
Sometimes I sit and wonder about how I came to be
I think and I think about who the world wants me to be
It seems as though everyone has this ideology
Ideology of me
Telling me what I’m meant to be;
But none of them, not a single one, can tell me the truth
The truth behind all of it
The truth of my youth;
You see
My father left me when I was a child
For years now he’s been gone
But it did leave me questioning, where do I belong?
If my own father did not want me
Is there anyone who ever will?;
It’s this pain that leaves me yearning for a friend
As desperate as I am, I just want to fit in
I tried to be cool, I tried to be funny
I tried to fit in, I really did
There are these neat little boxes with everyone in their place
Where’s my box, you ask
Oh, it’s right over there
There in the corner, dark and alone
I sit inside of it, for I have no other home
I fit nowhere else, so I have a box all to my own
I decorate it to my liking
It’s weird and it’s exotic
It reflects my personality, though no one seems to notice;
At night I lay awake
I stare up at my ceiling
I wonder when I am to begin my healing
My healing of the pain
The pain I hide behind my smile
I smile and I laugh
Yes, this is true
But don’t be fooled by my charm
On the inside I am breaking
Crumbling
Ripping
I smile as I wait
Wait for the moment I tear
Tear at the seems so everyone can see
See I’m broken and filled with anxiety
When will I have my next panic attack?
Will it be at school?
See I’m filled with depression
Why do I hurt myself?
Why do I cause myself to bleed?;
But I keep this all inside
I have no one to tell
This is because I do not belong here
Nor do I belong over there
Don’t you get it?
I do not belong anywhere;
Amariano Williams
Rogers High School Junior
Inspired by Mari Evans poem
Power is a Woman
In her stance is a confidence, power is a woman. In her face there is a story, a journey in her eyes, depth to every breath her nose releases. Her ears have taken in with every lesson learned and wisdom received, she is power. Power is a woman. The way she loves, teaches, nurses, and embraces her people. There is power.
Libby Barnett
Bowling Green High School Freshman
inspired by the folktale, The People Could Fly
Clarity
From an early age our teachers tell us things we know are true.
1+1=2,
Don’t throw food,
Raise your hand,
Use and inside voice.
We follow along unquestioning, muddled, and happy.
But it is when we look out the window that we realize,
What we know is nothing.
War,
Famine,
Pollution,
Death,
Our minds are overwhelmed.
“Go back!” we scream,
“Turn away!”
“Leave the anguish behind!”
1+1=2,
2+2=4,
We chant, we repeat,
We are chained.
We cannot turn away,
For the world is calling,
Uncensored and unafraid.
We step into the light, cautious, but now sure,
Into a new world,
Of clarity.
Mishty Woof
Bowling Green High School Freshman
Inspired by images provided by Ohio Writers Project about COVID
Another day spent being useless, another day without noticing the clock moving faster. Another day where the desire to be distracted overcome any sense of sanity. Time slips away from me as the fresh flowers in the crystal vase on my desk did. Once offering a feeling of content, they used to branch out of their jar, their stems green, young and cold. The flowers chatter amongst themselves. always plastered with a smile, busting with color. Lost in thought, caught up in wild imagination. I blink once again, look up once again, take in bright colors once again. Blink. The flowers are gone, the clock has moved, the day has changed. Blink. Friendships gone. Blink. I can’t let more time deteriorate. Blink. This will forever be a burden I carry. All I want to achieve. Relationships I want to strengthen and pursue. Plans for the future. My plans for the future. How can I do this when I never have enough- Blink. Another day, no more time. No more time.
Antonio Pino
Early College Freshman
True friends
Many people, say they have many friends,
Feel so quick to, treat them like the new trend,
But what is a friend really,
The ones who are with you until the very end,
Or the ones who let you talk about your feelings,
The ones who are their when your wed,
Or the ones who help you the most when the hurt leaves you reeling,
The ones who, never pretend,
The real friends, they think of you in the middle of the night,
When you get hurt, they help you feel alright,
They don’t just, say it’ll be just fine,
When you fall, they’ll drop everything and help you everytime,
They’ll heal you, they’ll doubtlessly try,
They stand with you, till the day they die,
They would want you, to stay away from the fire,
They would support you, they would do it every time,
If you fell in one, they would help you win the fight,
Even with a cobra, they would take the bite,
Real friends,
They would never let you, go it alone,
If time is money, they would give their loan,
They would heal you, even when their heart is beating slow,
They would laugh, at your every joke,
They would never hang up the phone,
They would help you, even when their broke,
They would truly, be, your friend.
They would hold you, when you needed them the most,
They would stay with you, when it gets cold,
Their friends would have been told,
That their heart’s, already been sold,
They would be strong for you, so you’d never fold,
They would never leave you even when they’re old,
When things got rough for you, they would do more than hope,
They would give you, their hand to hold,
They would truly, be, your friend
But real friends,
They would never let you, go it alone,
If time is money, they would give you a loan,
They would heal you, even when their heart is beating slow,
They would laugh at, your every joke,
They would never, hang up the phone,
They would help you, even when their broke,
Even if they’re love, remains untold,
If you tried, hard enough to look close,
You would realize then you would know,
That they give you, their heart, to hold.
Real friends,
They would never let you, go it alone,
If time is money, they would give their loan,
They would heal you, even when their heart is beating slow,
They would laugh, at your every joke,
They would never hang up the phone,
They would help you, even when their broke,
Deja Lewis
Early College Freshman
Inspired by Winter images
Little white star – Jan 15
There is nothing better
Than the feeling of the snow
with it gently falls on your face
And the breeze tickle the fur on your coat
There is nothing better
Than the cold blue sky
And the thick white layer of snow
On the ground it lies
Photos by Sarah Burns are published in the quint 12.1 Dec 2020
Click to access The%20Quint%20v12.1.pdf
Artwork by Tim Sanderson and Jerald Natal were featured in the Fearless Writers exhibit at the Human Trafficking and Social Justice Conference 2020.
Fearless Writers Toledo 