Poems submitted in 2024

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

by Maria F Rojas, 2024

Smile 

Trying to be the only smile around 

Radiating sparks from my pearly whites, 

receiving nothing but frowns 

Standing in a crowd of a hundred 

on the subway car 

Madness inspired by frustration drives people 

One train car containing nothing 

but stories full of pain 

The daily cortisol

of rushing down the stairs 

Probability of falling: high 

The need to catch the next train 

surpasses the risk 

Different lives packed together, 

not one familiar but tightly squeezed 

All random strangers with ongoing thoughts 

Closed by the border of their mouths 

They see, think, 

then quiet down out of fear of society

Many facades, 

only locals detect sincerity 

The fear when a homeless person walks by

yelling, 

reminds me of the police report on the news last night 

about five stabbings in the train 

chills in my body 

Constantly investigating body gestures, 

seeing if my car will be the next victim

No other choice but to take that same system 

because it’s 2.90

The innocent questions of a baby New Yorker, 

“Where is the 6?” 

Compared to “Where is Port Authority?” 

From the pickpocketer 

with angry expressions

The face tells a story, 

the words deceive

One learns to differentiate 

with the scars of scares 

The inaudible words murmured across my seat 

Unable to pinpoint a face, 

none to see, looking down, 

typing away their souls

A phone takes away the power of talk 

No social interaction, 

so we befriend technology 

No hellos, no sweet asks, 

no, please, and thank you 

When walking into the subway, 

reality hits

The hidden truth opens up 

when the subway doors unlock 

A new future at every stop, 

walking in to meet what lies ahead 

The wave of regret strikes 

when there’s an emergency stop 

and my mind remembers my fight with my mom 

last night

Flashes before my eyes 

I’m suffocating with strangers in a metal box 

No way out, no touching the third rail, 

no oxygen 

Too many rules

to remember when a disaster strikes

I’m trapped 

I’m living in a nightmare 

I’m just trying to get to school 

I have a math test next period 

I’m running late, 

cutting it too close to that first bell 

My mind forgets s=rθ, 

occupied with escaping a possible end 

The agonizing moment 

of being left under the Earth 

with people who aim to hurt 

I need to yell 

but I must hold my composure to save my life

I want to hold onto someone 

and not this cold pole

Someone who can comfort me, 

but who are these people? 

Their eyes full of sorrow, 

overwhelmed by deadlines and schedules 

No one seems to care until death is facing them

One turns their attention to the tiny red light, 

ignored until it’s the last sign of hope 

A red button can’t save a life 

It can dictate to others when it’s about to be taken away

But, yet again 

this is a regular 8 AM routine

*The unfortunate adrenaline* 

What has life become? 

The mysteries of the NYC subway are held in my mind, 

all close deaths 

none successful at taking my life in a breath.

by Maria F Rojas, 2024

The Mask

I’m afraid.

All I am is a girl 

who has the world in her hands.

Is that real or a phrase to drain the life from me?

I have pains. 

No one asks them.

They ask for my prettiness in foul moments.

They ask for my gentleness in a rough world. 

They ask for my calmness during a storm.  

I weep after seeing the bloody sight of living,

and what humanity must put up with.

The world is melting 

and it’s fiery hell is burning my soul,

reducing the level of me in my body and

creating an abyss in my thick bones.

Using people’s influences as my band-aid. 

Stepping into the wrong path.

Taking the pill of freedom.

She said it would only inflict ecstasy.

“I thought it would ease my pain.” 

The doctors say, 

I now need a soul cleansing from the euphoria. 

It was deadly fun. 

I’m just a girl with mistakes as her past. 

Setting foot in reality.

I’m back to the routine of 

being under pressure to be a red diamond.

Shiny, 

reflecting on what I see and am: 

Seeing the bloody wails of my mother and I 

being made up of a red heart and insides 

stand a chance. 

But I thought diamonds were precious and rare.

I see a future with my coat as dark as my life.

Opaque in its brilliance, not radiating light, and 

afflicting gloom on others.

My friends, too, black in their shine, 

all influenced by the outside.

No longer feeling unique am I?

Coping and pasting.

Still urging to be as red as the sea.

Confused in my thinking: 

Am I made of flesh or standards?

Two opposite wholes I must wear.

Working until midnight, 

fixing my masks in the mirror to pass life standards. 

Seeing much to be erased:

Cleaning up my mistakes, 

picking up my self-esteem, 

adding on a shiny smile, 

pulling out thoughts and

wiping away my fats.

I know perfection is all that defines me. 

But life is a straight line

and I can’t be messing it up with my zig-zag ways.

I heard tales as a child of life as love,

not feeling dead because of it. 

The injustices all go through. I could change them. 

Would life allow me to correct the wrong?

Or would it treat me as an error for pursuing the “impossible?”

I’m a part of a system that plots to kill me.

My purple eye bags show my endurance.

Suppose to

take the screams and frustration of the world,

but it can’t take mine. 

Instead, it silences my cries for a breath 

while drowning in rejections.

The thought of opening my jaw to speak burns my mind. 

Too much work.

I’m not lazy. I’m just putting up with what some say is life. 

Urging to be back in my euphoria when it gets hard:

I want to speed 100 on the highway and feel the privilege of being alive. 

I want to go to the top of the Empire State Building and see how little life is.

I want to climb Everest and understand how valuable oxygen is.

I want to run a marathon and thank my body for being perfect in its mechanism. 

I want to travel the world and see the beauty of my home, which I take for granted. 

But how could I risk it again? 

I should distract myself by 

checking off the strength of my disguise.

I can’t be seen.

If breathing were not natural, 

my exhaustion would have chosen to give it up.