Poems by Teens

Anonymous, 2025

“My favorite color is Yellow!”

“Yellow is the color of the sun,

It shines so bright and feels like fun.

It’s in my crayon, so bold and bright,

So much happiness in my sight!”

 

What an odd color to be the favorite of a child,

But I couldn’t help but have smiled.

For in her hands, that yellow hue,

Turned all her dreams anew.

 

A simple shade, yet so pure and true,

She had a world of joy in yellow’s view.

In her excitement, I could see

How bright the world can be,

 

By what this child has yearned,

Only then I have truly learned

Yellow is joy without a sound,

a secret reason to smile that we’ve all somehow found.

 

 

by Makayla Harder, 2025

In shadows deep where whispers lie,
A child within begins to cry.
Her tears are soft, but full of pain,
Like gentle drops in autumn rain.

Her tiny hands, they reach and seek,
For love that feels so far, so weak.
A hollow ache inside her chest,
A silent wound that never rests.

She calls for help, but none will hear,
The cries that linger, raw with fear.
A broken heart, a shattered dream,
She floats alone, a silent scream.

Oh, little one, with eyes so wide,
Whose innocence the world denied,
Please know your tears are not in vain—
You’ll find your voice beyond the pain.

The storm will pass, the sun will rise,
And healing hands will dry your eyes.
The world may hurt, but you are strong,
A child within who’ll carry on.

by Anonymous, 2025

Love tiptoes in,

not with thunder, but a hush

a glance held too long,

a breath caught in a rush

 

It speaks in coffee spoons

and tangled bedsheets,

in Sunday silence,

in heartbeats

 

It stumbles sometimes,

awkward, unsure

but lingers like sunlight

on a hardwood floor.

 

It isn’t always fireworks

it’s often just staying.

choosing eachother

without even saying.

by Anonymous, 2025

The ocean sighs beneath the moon,

its breath a lullaby, soft and soon.

a whisper rolling on the sand,

reaching out with salted hand.

 

It keeps old secrets in its chest,

and rocks the wrecked and lost to rest.

It laughs in storms, it weeps in rain,

a soul of joy, a heart of pain.

 

Not wild, not tame, just ever true,

a mirror deep of me and you.

Anonymous, 2025

Peeling Grapes

In my familiar kitchen, sunlight creeps,

My beautiful mother stands as the microwave beeps.

Paying no mind, her fingers are gentle as whispered grace,

They begin the strenuous task of peeling grapes.

 

No rush in her rhythm, she has no need to race,

Just love for me in this period of time and space.

The fruit beneath, translucent, bare,

Like the silly truths she used to share.

 

She cradles each grape with so much care,

Whilst uncovering each one with a simple tear.

As her practiced hands and patient eyes move,

There’s an urge that I have something to prove.

 

She peels away the bitter skin,

Leaving only the tender inside to give to her kin.

A labor small, unnoticed, sweet,

Leaving me to vow to always keep her on her feet.

 

Each peeled grape is a lullaby,

A mother’s love you can’t outgrow or buy.

Therefore, I will always love and care,

And by that I swear.

by Logan Boemper, 2025

Soft, quiet snowflakes

Dancing across the branches

The white sheet they lay

 

by Alexis Ebanks, 2025

Pageants, many believe, are for the vain,

Where beauty is showcased, absent of brain.

Hungry eyes gawk, judging from afar,

“This is unfeministic,” critics say with disregard.

 

Are pageants—outdated, something of the past?

Can we rewrite this narrative—receive acceptance at last?

We take the stage to create impact, our causes unite,

Showcasing advocacy in a brand-new light.

 

In private interviews, we share our voice,

On stage, we compete in talents of our choice.

We demonstrate strength in the fitness phase,

Then step into gowns designed to shock and amaze.

 

Behind the curtains, unseen by eyes,

The bond we form together, as we rise.

Eloquent speeches, these skills we refine,

Presenting confidence and philanthropy, perfectly aligned.

 

We lift each other, regardless of who wins the prize,

For the true win… our strength actualized.

In the spotlight, we break an old-fashioned mold,

A new vision of pageant women, beautiful and bold.

by Mia Tsaktsirlis, 2024

Mia is her name,

Known as “T” in the game.

She has long brown hair and is very tall,

Her favorite sports are basketball and volleyball.

She is an athletic girl standing at five foot nine,

With a tan skinned face and piercing brown eyes.

She loves to drink refreshers and iced tea,

And can probably find her wearing a graphic tee.

She loves a home cooked meal, totally a foodie,

And especially likes to cuddle up in a hoodie.

She has two cats, naturally is an animal lover

With a love for the beach during the hot summer

A big homebody at heart,

But for coffee, she’ll definitely depart.

In her heart, family holds a cherished part,

Her rational mind sets her apart.

She loves to have a good time with her friends,

You could say that is where most of her happiness depends.

Anonymous, 2024

Fishes of colors
A sea of many wonders
Out in the ocean

Anonymous, 2024

My Baseball Dream

 

The risky path to becoming a College baseball player

The smell of the fresh green grass

The feeling of being up at the plate

Bright shining lights up in the sky

Crowds and teammates screaming your name

Everyone says you won’t make it

The injuries you will face on the way

Teammates chanting your name when you’re up on the plate

The dark sky, eating up the baseball

The ball falling from the sky like a falling meteor

The feeling of making contact

Having a catch with your teammates and friends

Coaches yelling across the field

 This is the path to my future of making it big