You may notice that this year on Sevenatenine, you are reading more than one poem by the same poet, and becoming familiar with the voice each individual poet brings to their body of work.
What are you noticing? Is there a certain poet whose work you would like to praise? Leave us a comment and share your thinking!
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| Artwork by Sjostjedt Z., Grade 9 |
The Colder Side of the Room
I step through the door
and greet a familiar issue.
I sit down, feeling rigid
it’s colder on this side of the room.
A drab and relentless breeze bombards my face
my shoulders shift in their icy prison
I start to lean away.
Away and away, to the inviting warmth that’s so close
it’s so close now, just like how this class is close to finished…
but I take a look back into their eyes and I find my body has been turned
to stone
I worry that if I return to the warmth
the ice I my veins will melt and all the words will come seeping out
I really don’t want that
I can’t just leave them alone here…
So I sigh with one last longing glance at the heat so irrefutably close,
my cracked and frostbitten lips curve into a smile.
I slide back
to the colder side of the room.
by Emma S., Grade 7
Artwork by Ibragamov, D., Grade 8
Little
Love Stories I Keep In My Journal To Daydream About On Later Occasions
I wrote about his
smile.
This one I want to
see in my dreams.
And now I’m afraid of
the words that I want to say.
Keep falling deeper
into the dimples—
I love dimples.
A tacenda between me
and me.
My fairy of perfume.
Spill the scent and
trap me in a misty haze.
Let me fall into the
complex profile, eager to learn more.
I can draw the limped
crescents of his eyes when he smiles.
Wrinkle for wrinkle.
Cheeks rosy and
puffed.
I should respect
myself as much as I respect him.
I love him as much as
I should love myself.
But for now, I’m
perfectly not so perfect at daydreaming about what we could be.
More so what I could
be.
Because our possible
love story I keep writing about is just me,
Falling in love with
myself through someone else.
Which is why I
continue to write these two little love stories for myself.
Because I deserve to
be loved just as much as every other person in the world.
Daydream or not.
by Jaime P., Grade 9
Artwork by Aubrey S., Grade 9
Not
Yesterday, Nor Tomorrow
Today.
Today, it’s awfully
sunny.
Yesterday wasn’t
and nobody can say
what tomorrow will be.
Today, it’s not too hot, or too cold
It’s just today.
Because it’s just today.
Not yesterday, nor
tomorrow
It’s just today.
Sometimes,
I hate today.
Sometimes,
I love today.
Sometimes,
it feels like
yesterday.
Sometimes,
tomorrow will feel
like today.
Sometimes,
the sun is too
bright.
And I just want to choke it with my
blanket, hiding myself.
I think I hide from today
often.
Today is terribly bright.
Today might rain.
But it doesn’t
matter, it’s just today.
Not yesterday, nor
tomorrow.
Just today.
Just Sunday, Monday,
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday.
Just today.
Just one day…
One day today will
end for me.
But for now,
it’s just today.
Just today.
by Ellana K., Grade 7
Artwork by Hannah S., Grade 9
Bored
thoughts of an unimaginable being
Get lost in the lines
Of those corduroy
pants
And follow the flare
Of that green plaid
sweater
Swallow the squeak
Of the brown leather
shoes
And cry at the body
attached
by Nia H., Grade 9
