Friday, November 29, 2019


As we close out the month of November, each of our poems have to do with vision, what we see and perceive in the world around us, and perhaps what the world around us perceives in us.  Keep playing with words, sketching, dreaming, and creating, and please share your endeavors with us at Sevenatenine.  We love hearing from readers both in the comments section and in our submission bin.  

I Never Stopped Watching

I never stopped watching
Snow hangs on my arms
Like a child on the monkey bars
Leaves crack as two students stomp
their feet barely the size of an acorn
Waiting for the bus

They played store in my branches,
Toys bought for free
Laser tag games
Hidden behind my trunk
He chases her until she is down to a single glowing life
But, because he is him
He didn’t fire again

Snow melts away
Boots forgotten in the closet
Children pick flowers
As they wait for Bus 624

She hid in my branches
Book in hand
Hidden from down below by my leaves
He kicked a ball at the curb
She slowly looks shorter
And shorter
Compared to the boy,
Who no longer needs to jump to touch my branches

The air smells of sunscreen
And flowers fully bloom
624 drops off its students for the last time
Excitement escapes the door
As the driver pulls his lever

An ice cream truck every other night
Ringing with bells and corny music
That to this day makes them both smile
Bonfires with extra s’mores
That remind them of their favorite trip as kids down toward the shore
Then, shopping for a new pencil case
And debating whose scissors are the brightest shade of blue

More leaves drift away
They rake piles and piles
Saving them to jump in when the time is right
But the bus pulls in before they can take the leap

Her Halloween decorations adorn the house
Yet his house stays bare of all colors
A monotone in their world of bright lights
One irrelevant Thursday,
Pumpkin seeds still on the ground from their carving
The truck pulls up
Bigger it seems, than the house itself
His whole world loaded into that truck

I watched them grow
Until I couldn’t
I’ll miss you.”

by Calli P., Grade 8

Artwork by Audra S., Grade 8

Beads in Sockets

Beads in sockets.
I stare at the bird in the mirror,
Its wings are moving rapidly.
Its cursed words come out only in strings, with a tapping at the mirror.

Beads in sockets.
I tap back, only for the eyes to disappear.
The rest melts away, and I am standing,
Staring at the empty reflection.
No more wings.

With a small whisper, my voice finds the cursed words that the bird was chanting.
"Who are you? Why are you here?"
Beads in sockets.

First my feet, and then my arms, my mind crawled into the mirror.
There I met the bird. It moved like me and breathed like me.
It spoke, "I am you."

Beads in sockets.
The eyes stared back at me.
Strings on a marionette,
It looked plastic.

I heard a faint phrase.
"You are me."

by Esme H., Grade 8

Artwork by Claire P., Grade 9