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Teen Ink Magazine,
September 2005 :
Poetry Articles
Cycle of the Sea
by Lauren , Hopkinton, MA
A thousand grains of sand weave into a velvet blanket that ripples with each surge in the clear waters above. Smooth pebbles cascade through weightless blue, their faces shining as they reflect each ray of glinting sun.
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Drowning
by Michael F., Virginia Beach, VA
Bubbles like dreams dance to the surface Seeing the world for the first time, But my feet and hands are shackled to the abyss, Oh, these transparent and aqueous chains! Through the kaleidoscope and rippling surface I see hazy gulls soaring on drafts, Ballerinas in the ...
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Fallen
by Madeleine W., Hopkinton, MA
I let eternity slide by and then suddenly I tamed my timid thoughts reached for him and grabbed a handful of happiness from his worn and weathered hands and held it next to my heart.
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Home Calling
by Jennifer G., Kalispell, MT
Calls of a loon drift over the fog Waves lapping a soothing rhythm, Keeping beat for the song of the morning birds. I awake to a beam of light, Fighting its way Through the drawn curtains of the bunkhouse.
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Hunter’s Lane
by Allison B., Devon, PA
“don’t run into the street!” we were warned as children playing with pastel-colored chalk in the driveway or setting up lemonade stands on spring-green lawns’ edge but as we’ve grown older there’s something ...
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Lessons
by Ming Min H., E. Setauket, NY
I never found out whether or not the paint dried on the park bench outside my door.
There was a man who had sat there every day before they decided that green was better than gray.
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Mess
by Sarah F., Omaha, NE
Don’t untangle So pretty In the lamplight Wonderfully confused, Consumed Pulled under, so The hole gets deeper Don’t fill it There is beauty In distress There is grandeur In this mess You are beautiful in The melancholy light.
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Modification
by Tricia E., Gainesville, VA
she presses too hard and pencil scrapes white paper - writing apologies she tries to change everything back to the way it was.
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Out of the Cellar
by Jane W., Makanda, IL
In the cool, damp cellar Moisture condenses On old lead pipes. Old air doesn’t escape Through cracks In Bricks. Spaces simply allow The cold to chill.
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Oversized Novelty Head
by Jeremy F., New City, NY
Jutting out from an ostentatious periwinkle turtleneck, A great cranium protrudes into the world of pinheads, its summit Sprouting seeds now fully matured into luscious locks Of chestnut curls atop a saline, dripping brow, Bushy eyebrows crazily protruding in all directions, ...
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Papa, Remember Your Mia
by Minh T., Boca Raton, FL
Papa, as you sit and your eyes do not see me, Do you remember when you chased me through green grass? So thick it tickled our feet I ask you who I am And when you answer Yolaine I cry Yolaine is gone And you are gone Papa, do you remember When you taught me how to ...
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Perone Creek
by Peter L., Silverhill, AL
Golden light dances across the surface of the serene summer swimming hole. Hidden creek with its rocky bed and sandy banks shifting and changing with time and current, full of Indian war paint, clay and smooth driftwood.
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Summer Unsummered
by Katy S., Richmond, VA
A half-eaten ice pop bleeds into the aging wood, Melting under a dying sun, Springtime flowers bow to the summertime king, Wilting away, Guardian trees endure the heavy beating upon the top of their leaves, Fighting to ensure that shadow’s relief, Garden sprinklers ...
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Sunset
by Lindsey H., Mansfield, IL
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Un-forgetful
by Gregory B., Armonk, NY
A heavy bolt of lightning Struck against the barn Banging out its innocence A blanket of flames Covered the roof An intimidating sight To any hero’s eyes Surviving horses Galloped for several miles Escaping from the Ghastly place Their eyes ...
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Uniqueness
by Abigail D., Gainesville, VA
Lockers stretch down the hall, identical to one another. One cloned from the other, a never-ending cycle of similarity. Although, undo the lock, and each one is different.
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Untitled
by Megan B., Berkeley Heights, NJ
Nights came with the flicks of fireflies and on clear nights, mistaking the glow for stars was not uncommon.
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Untitled
by Alexandra W., Ligonier, PA
A stranger on a bench who would gladly give his life A day would come we’d sure remember A day that he would fight For the lives of men and women were at stake, innocent like any other Them, he’d not forsake A frightened American nation comforted by the ...
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Wednesday
by Caitlin S., Louisville, KY
here’s another drive home without language, and this music just doesn’t express what i wish i could tell you.
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What Is a Girl to Do?
by Kaity G., Union Mills, IN
Between the swooshing Of the respirator, Between the beeping Of those big machines, Between my family Sobbing, talking, sniffling. What is a girl to do?
You lie there dying, I sit here crying, You lie there wheezing, I sit here freezing.
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Poetry articles from the Teen Ink Archives
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