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Ali Hassan Jun 3
The board lies still—eight ranks, eight files,
Each square a world, a thousand trials.
Its checkered face, both calm and cruel,
Waits quietly to play the fool.

The stage is set, the players stare,
Each move a hope, each glance a dare.
They chase the crown, a fleeting throne,
Yet play this game so not alone.

The pawns march on with hearts held tight,
Blind to edges of wrong and right.
The knights vault over doubts and ties,
Twisting through paths that mask disguise.

While bishops slide through shades between,
They blur the line of right and mean.
The rooks stand firm with rigid pride,
Their paths cut sharp, no step to slide.

The queen—so fierce, so fast, so grand—
Wields power none can understand.
The king just shuffles, slow and small,
Yet all would die to guard his fall.

But none ask why this prize they seek—
What worth has power if souls grow weak?
They fight for check, they fall for mate,
They crown the skill, yet praise the fate.

But when the game has run its thread,
All lie the same—still, cold, and dead.
No victor’s cheer, no mournful cries,
Just silent echoes, fading skies.

A silent watcher beyond the frame,
Eyes steady, untouched by fleeting game.
He watches rules with endless flight,
The fragile dance of truth and lies.

Unmoved by moves both thrill and blind,
He holds the truth the young can’t find—
That all their struggle, all their pain,
Is but a shadow, not the reign.
Elaine C May 30
turn me into text
perfect example of internal conflict
study me
for your exams
write an essay
"the author might be trying to say"
when you read my thoughts

i hope you pass
grade 9
tear apart my thoughts
analyse me
its so hard to be two people at once
ChrisV May 29
I would say,
“Where are you now,
While I am at my lowest?”
But I know you
could say the same.
So, here’s the
Difference.

You chose to go it alone.
I called for your support but
You were confused
And couldn’t tell the
Difference.

I used to be the one you
Could rely upon. But now
You choose no one,
And I see a
Difference.

You had shakes from withdrawal.
But mine are from fear and
Isolation.
Can you see the
Difference?

I wish I could have changed things then.
But you shut me out, cut contact,
Pushed me away.
So, what’s the
Difference?

You knew that I’d been struggling.
Everyone’s known, it’s not a secret.
But I work through my pain while you
Decide to eat it.
See the difference?
am May 28
My kindness is simply my atonement for my shame.

My goodness only exists to hide my selfishness.

You aren’t your thoughts, I know,

But why do I feel them inside of me?

Why are they crawling,

Dragging through my veins and leaving jagged marks?

Why are they nestling into the cracks of my bones?

I am not good,

But my love is real.

It may not be pure,

It may not be beautiful,

But if you’d let me,

I would rip my own heart from its strings to let you see it.

They would stretch until they were snapped stiff,

ringing out like the threads of a harp.

I’d bare myself to you in all that I am, and all that I am not.

And if knowledge is power,

If ignorance is bliss,

I’ll sink my fingers into my skull,

I’ll dig out my brain and fall to the floor,

I’ll offer it to you, and watch with lulled eyes as you hold it gently to your lips.

Yet I am terrified.

I am terrified that a little girl is watching me,

Silent,

Bearing witness to the monster in her skin.
The Calm May 25
Peace is something to die for
To dive for
Deep into uncomfortable waters where confrontations swim quickly with sharp teeth of yesteryears hurts, scars and disappointments
To wrestle against the currents of emotional immaturity and pride in the deep and dark abyss of normalcy.

Hiding hurt in plain sight, veiled, covered up like dirt under the carpet so that no one can see the harm that has been done but never reconciled.
The narcissist within you thinks you know the reason behind everything you see or feel, you’ve already figured out a story where you’re justified and as for me, you say I should let it go.
Life is too short to relive old pain.

Your peace is a false god.
Your peace has won no battles , your peace has no scars , your peace is nothing but a curtain that hides the ugliness of human condition that you are not emotionally mature enough to process.
Your peace is the absence of conflict.
My peace is its resolve.
To stitch the wound
To mend the heart
To soothe the soul
Again, to start
Anew, with you to know you deeply,
To love you deeply.
If life is so short, then why are we waiting
To start again
A poem, a prayer, a therapy session? Maybe all three. Praying for all of you that hope to love someone deeply and work through hurt and pain with them
Yusuf May 10
Here you are.
Running and running,
you stand here at a border.
One of vessel and mind.
  
Oh, mirrored child!
How you have grown!
Still...
too tame, too wild.

A paper without a pen.
A frown devoid of rage.
Your words are vibrant.
Your value is undefined.

Static as a variable,
dynamic as an organism.
You have friendly masks,
yet volatile insides.

A friend?
A foe?
Brutality or mercy?
It is time to choose.

Oh, my best friend...
my oldest enemy...
how do you do?
Mia J May 8
Something that needs more attention and convo.
I’ve known about it since a youngin’
But I didn’t understand it then.
Now that I do,  
there’s confliction.
I’m straddling the fence with this.
My husband is supposed to be the man with the  
key to my body.
I’m years from marriage plus  
my mind thinks of the act.
A lot.  
Apparently, this is wrong.  
I thought I was only human.
Don’t they understand *** is everywhere?
Isn’t the thought better than the action?
I made the decision to wait.
Not because of the past teachings.
This is my body, my choice.
I can’t bring myself to give away
my most cherished part
away so easily.
Is the choice easy?
Even in singleness, the thoughts
and temptation is everywhere.
I could find a guy.  
Any guy.
And have fun.
But would it mean more to me than him?
Is the choice fair?
I can’t argue with the Word.
But I have free will.  
The main thing I want to avoid is soul ties.  
Those can’t leave me as quick a bad
fun session.
Will my wait be worth it in the end?
I hope so.  
This may not be easy,
Let alone fair.  
But in my eyes, it’s right.
-Mia J
10-8-2019


© 2019 Mia J
This was composed in 2019
diamond star May 6
In a distant land, a city bright,
Where olive trees bathed in golden light.
Fields of oranges, ripe and sweet,
Where children’s laughter filled the streets.

The markets buzzed with joy and song,
With bread and sweets the day stretched long.
And in the air, so soft and near,
The call to prayer, both calm and clear.

A boy named Adil, young and free,
Kicked a ball beside the sea.
His laughter rang through ocean’s roar,
His joy, untouched, his spirit pure.

The sky, once bright, shattered apart,
A deafening BOOM that shook the tide.
The earth exploded, a deafening roar,
Shaking the heavens, tearing the floor.

Adil, still laughing, thought it was a game,
Chasing his cousin, calling his name.
But with each step, the world shook more,
And childhood crumbled to the floor.

His cousin’s grip was all he knew,
They ran, though neither understood.
“What game is this?” young Adil cried,
As they fled with nowhere to hide.

They ran through streets of bloodied cries,
Each corner echoing with broken skies.
Adil, with innocence in his chest,
Held his cousin’s hand, still thinking this was a test.

Where once stood a shop full of sweets,
Now rubble, fire, and twisted streets.
The joy he knew had turned to dust,
The city crumbled—lost to rust.

Still, Adil ran, his mind confused,
This had to be a game, he mused.
“Mama,” he whispered, wild with dread,
But this was not a game he had been led.

Through empty streets, they ran in vain,
Until cold metal came like rain.
A machine, massive, towering high,
Once seen in movies—now his sky.

Adil stood, still thinking it’s a race,
The terror too real, too much to face.
“Is this the game?” he thought in fear,
But the nightmare pressed far too near.
This poem reflects the innocence of childhood, and how quickly that innocence can be shattered by the horrors of war. It was inspired by the ongoing conflict in Gaza and the devastating impact on children caught in the crossfire. I wanted to show the heartbreaking reality that innocent souls, full of hope and joy, are forced to endure such unimaginable pain
Phia May 6
Everything is fine
Then one Sunday afternoon
The dam between your teeth
Starts to crack
And all my flaws
come pouring from your mouth
I wish you would say what’s bothering you sooner. Let’s talk about it rather than explode
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