Tag Archives: poetry

Run

By Chris Cooper, author and poet, New Jersey.

The scariest thing about life is that there is no finish line,
so you never really know where or how far you have to go.
Living out each day, assessing the past and present while eyeing the future,
we choose directions based on impulse and prudence, decisions that guide the run.

And it starts out like a sprint with fast-twitch ambition and energized strides,
until fatigue sets in, forcing a recalculation,
an adjustment to the race; a realization that it’s actually a marathon,
requiring both stamina and endurance, a steadier pace.

And subconsciously, we’re convinced tomorrow is expected,
assuming there’s always another day, more time to catch up.
But you never really know if there’s a lifetime ahead,
another mile to go, or if you’re experiencing your last conscious breaths,
and maybe that’s the beauty of it all.

—Chris Cooper is the author of the 2024 debut novel Crazy by Conscious from Anxiety Press. He writes, “I created this poem to convey different aspects of the human condition with varying linguistic elements. I hope to one day be content without feeling the existential need to constantly create.”

Unfinished Exit

I keep thinking
about the time in high school
when you drew
me
a map of the city,
I still have it somewhere.
It was so easy
to get lost
in a place where all the trees
look the same.
And now
every time I see
a missing person’s poster
stapled to a pole,
all I can think is
that could have been me.
Missing,
disappeared.

But there are no
posters for people
who just never came back
from vacation, from college,
from life.
You haven’t killed yourself
because you’d have to commit to a
single exit.
What you wouldn’t give to be your cousin Catherine,
who you watched
twice in one weekend get strangled nude
in a bathtub onstage
by the actor who once
filled your mouth with quarters at
your mother’s funeral.
The curtains closed and opened again.
We applauded until
our hands were sore.

But you couldn’t shake the image of
her lifeless body,
the way she hung there like a
marionette with cut strings.
And now every time you try to write a poem,
it feels like a
eulogy.
A desperate attempt to
capture something that’s already
gone.
But maybe that’s why we keep writing,
keep searching for
the right words,
because in this world where everything is
temporary,
poetry is our only chance at
immortality.

So even though you haven’t
found the perfect ending yet,
you keep writing.
For Catherine, for yourself, for all the lost
souls
who never got their own
missing person’s poster.
Because as long as there are words on a page,
there is still hope for an unfinished exit
to find its proper
ending.

About the Poet:
Claudia Wysocky is a Polish poet based in New York, celebrated for her evocative creations that capture life’s essence through emotional depth and rich imagery. With over five years of experience in fiction writing, her poetry has appeared in various local newspapers and literary magazines. Wysocky believes in the transformative power of art and views writing as a vital force that inspires her daily. Her works blend personal reflections with universal themes, making them relatable to a broad audience. Actively engaging with her community on social media, she fosters a shared passion for poetry and creative expression.

Being Split

Being Split
By Preston Young, age 10, New York.

Illustration by Preston Young, 10, New York.

Being split,
Korean and Taiwanese,
I can’t process two different cultures,
It’s hard for me.

On Korean New Year,
I bow to elders and eat Duk Bok Ki (rice cakes).
On Chinese New Year,
I get red envelopes and eat dim sum with herbal tea.
I call my Korean grandparents Halmoni and Haraboji;
Ah ma, I call to my grandma who is Taiwanese.

The Taiwanese flag has red, white and blue.
The South Korean flag has those colors too.
The American flag has them too, oooh!

Being split,
Korean and Taiwanese,
Sometimes people don’t understand me.
When my friends talk about their one culture,
I want one of my other cultures to be unseen.

I try to tell my friends over and over;
I scream and I shout and whisper over their shoulder.
They never understand when I say,
I am both Korean and Taiwanese!
They look confused and annoyed like fleas.

Sometimes I wonder if being Korean and Taiwanese is right for me.
I sit there and think until I can finally see,
I am special with being multicultural,
Being Korean, Taiwanese, and American,
Can all fit in my soul.

Being split,
Korean, Taiwanese, and American is hard.
But the three cultures,
Are forever in my heart!

By Preston Young, age 10, New York. Preston adds: “My mom is Korean and my dad is Taiwanese. I was born in the USA. I speak English but I am learning how to write, read and speak Korean because my friends at school can speak fluently, and I want to be able to communicate with them. My dream is to become an author and entertain kids. I was inspired to write this poem because when I am in school people always assume that I am full Korean or full Taiwanese. Sometimes people think I’m Chinese but I always correct them. I wanted to express how I feel and what that makes me feel like. I made a collage out of construction paper and some magazine clippings with markers to show my feelings about being split in three different cultures.”

Stand OUT

Stand OUT

Smart
Smarter
Smartest
That’s all they care about in this test
Your Creativity doesn’t matter
Your Hardwork doesn’t matter
the Blood sweat and tears you put in doesn’t matter
It’s all about the score in the end
This toxic cycle of making us believe
Believe this is what we have to do to fit in
Fit in with society
Fit in with the crowd
Fit into the jigsaw puzzle
When you’re your very own work of art
For how long does this go on
For how long does this cycle go on
This cycle of blending us all together as one
Until we’re broken and bleeding pieces
Working together in blurred masses
Towards a goal that was never ours
Stop
Make it all stop
Stop making us believe we’re jigsaw pieces
Stop making us believe that we’ve got no choice
No voice
That we cannot be a counterpoise
That we’re nothing more than a mere small voice
Stop making us believe we aren’t our own masterpieces
Stop making us believe that we’ve got to fit in
When we were born to stand out

Likhita Makam is a 15-year-old Indo-American high school student living in India. She has been published in youth newspapers and literary magazines. She’s an avid reader and is up for a poetry discussion at all times. She hopes to inspire people of all ages with her words.

Colors of Ukraine

By Camille Campbell, age 17, Arizona.

With images flashing in my mind,

I lay out the billowing silk,

and begin to paint.

I trace the lines of my ancestry,

each brushstroke forming a branch

on my family’s ancestral tree.

With golden gutta, I outline my identity,

ready to color between the lines.

I splash on the colors of Ukraine—

the teal darkness of Odessa’s Black Sea,

the sun-lit golden domes of Kyiv,

the crimson autumn of Sofiyivka gardens,

the flaxen fields of sunflowers.

I dream of living within the painting,

strolling and dancing in the silken world.

The kaleidoscope of hues connects me

to my mother’s Land of Color.

**The Kaleidoscope of Dreams and The Vase of Joy**. *Art by Camille Campbell, age 17, Arizona.*

Camille writes:

In my poem, I write about the beautiful form of art called “silk painting” and how it connects me with my Ukrainian heritage.

For years, silk painting has captivated me. My mother, who moved from Ukraine to the United States, fondly talked of the colorful silk paintings made by artistic communities in Ukraine. Disappointed that this technique was not practiced much in the United States, I decided to change that: one brushstroke at a time. As I learned the intricate and complex process, each painting felt like a tribute to my mother’s country.

When art gallery owners expressed interest in my silk paintings, I assembled a collection of my work and was fortunate enough to receive representation by Derubeis Fine Art Gallery in Scottsdale, Arizona. With my silk paintings, I positively impacted my community by donating a few of them to the Make a Wish Foundation to raise money at their silent auctions.

When I’m doing a live art event, I always love to answer people’s questions about the process of silk painting and how it ties to my Ukrainian heritage.

Along with my poem “Colors of Ukraine,” I have included four of my silk paintings: The Kaleidoscope of Dreams, the Vase of Joy, Flickers of Autumn and Serenity. You can see more of my art at: www.artistcamillecampbell.com