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Teen Ink Magazine,
February 2006 :
Poetry Articles
“Meninism”
by AJ C., Gilford, NH
Please, darling, lecture me more about how I never open the door for you. That’s how a real man should act. A real man.
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Convoluted
by Matt C., Beverly, MA
A caffeinated, turbulent, unstoppable warp-spasm of energy Explodes into rooms, knocking people over with embraces Screaming their names as she pulses with radiance, This perpetual firecracker spins out of control I hate her Fizzling out into coherence, her vibrant colors ...
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Echoes of Silence
by Jessie L., New City, NY
These forbidden words we are yearning to speak
Hinder our vocal chords Leaving vast tunnels of silence Echoing within us
As they struggle to break free Oh, how we wish these words could just Ease off the tips of our tongues Like slippery cherry ...
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Face
by Marie C., Caspar, CA
Day after day the faces slide by in a rush of light and color Everyone dashing by in masses of blurred humanity Their faces pale splotches of color amidst the multicolored swirl Streaming like a river down the streets and over North Bridge Flowing and merging as they dash up ...
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Freeze
by Carolyn C., Crown Point, IN
Someone calls out freeze And you’re sitting here by me On a cold black floor And our tennis shoes are touching
And I wring my shirtsleeves And I hold my breath Because I don’t want the Vibrations to escape
Someone calls out freeze And ...
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Gullible Girl
by Amber W., Sturgis, MI
Sweet, Silly, Gullible Girl
You thought you loved him But it wasn’t so. Sweet, Silly, Gullible Girl You thought he loved you But he broke your heart. Sweet, Silly, Gullible Girl You thought it was paradise But he played you for a fool.
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Hide and Seek
by Diana F., Scotch Plains, NJ
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10! Where are you? Are you in the closet of lies? Are you under the bed of loyalty? Are you behind the door of secrets? Where are you? Buried deep within the sheets of courage? Beneath the table of dishonesty? Where are you? Let’s ...
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Illusion
by Kimberly B., Hilton, NY
I never think of you I have no reason to Once, I almost thought of you then I remembered I don’t remember you.
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In Mr. Lincoln’s Footsteps
by Martin H., Cincinnati, OH
A backwoods in the remote forests of Kentucky,
Self-educated, a manifestation of humble beginnings Arabian Nights with a dash of Shakespeare and Robert Burns on the side, A bookworm after twelve and willing to oblige Ohio River flatboats man avoiding perilous ...
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Ode to My Heart
by Kensley H., Lebanon, MO
Hearts have been commercialized Made into chalky, pastel-colored candy Pasted on cards by the hands of small children Folded in half and dropped in a box Put on a stick and wrapped up in plastic But no matter how much you ask I will never give you mine
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Sequestered: On Three Separate Occasions
by Jeseka L., Conyers, GA
He sings summer in his voice green leaves and heat, and I can taste the last of spring on the tip of his finger, as he plays ballads with his weeping eyes tells me I’m beautiful without saying a word.
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Stare
by Stephanie P., Newark, DE
You stare at me with dreams breathing in and out of your nose like you are under water, You kick your legs, and I realize I’m wet too, and I’m wrapped in your arms, We sit on the beach and wonder what it’s all about, the sun rises and sets Just like ...
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The Beginning
by Sandra H., New City, NY
Locked in the bathroom with your best friend as a witness The words I dare you ringing in your ears I tried to look into your smirking blue eyes My gaze was directed elsewhere A strong hand on my tingling lower back pulling me close Head turned up as I went on tiptoes to ...
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The Converted
by Tara V., Brookline, MA
He is the converted, the father keeping faith through a season of layoffs at Red Cab and two, one and a half, three games behind the Yankees. Religion adopted and the mother doesn’t know whether fried bananas for hot dogs was as bad a trade as Babe Ruth.
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The Love (after Mary Oliver)
by Jake P., Califon, NJ
The first love I ever got Would not lie to me Softly she spoke but the love died at the doorstop when she left and cried in the pouring rain from the sky, later I realized that Was love and love Hurts.
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The Perfect Lie
by Alisha S., Chalfont, PA
Tick, tock, tick, tock ... I hear the clock as I watch the hours, Minutes and seconds drift through my fingertips As I wish to feel your fingers running through my hair, And your lips, I long to touch ...
3:27 in the morning ...
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Vioin Recital, May, 1994
by Victoria B., Brooklyn, NY
Sitting in a big white room - white walls, white ceiling, gray carpet A grand piano, slick like wet tar, spread out in the middle of the room. Mini violins on small laps, balancing dangerously on the edges of knees Little performers fiddling with their bows and cases and rosin.
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Wasted Freeze
by John S., Orrville, OH
Valentine’s Day It’s the same every year Friends walk the halls with gifts While I stare with jealousy Hiding my empty hands At the day’s end I give a blank stare As my windshield crackles in the bitter frost The same ice crystals That consumed ...
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Poetry articles from the Teen Ink Archives
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