You are yellow to me. Sunny, happy, bright. But sometimes, A little too bright. A little piercing. A little blinding. Yellow speaks of caution, To slow down. But sometimes, We see a yellow light And go even faster. A little too fast. In the right shades, In the right amounts, In the right places, You are calming. Reminding me of how real And vibrant everything is. Keeping me grounded In yellow. Yellow is beautiful. In the right light, You are golden, You are soft. In the right light, You are harsh, You are reflective Of everything I don't want to see In myself. You are a highlighter. Pointing out the information I need most. But sometimes I get a bit carried away With my highlighter. Sometimes I look down, And an entire page is yellow. You are overwhelming and Underwhelming and not A single bit Too yellow. Not A single bit Too much. Because you are you. You are yellow. And you are wonderful, And scary, And bright, And soft, And perfect. And I love you, And I thank you, For being yellow.
Olivia Weeden
I’m from Saratoga Springs NY and am a student at Saratoga Springs High School. I love to read and write, and music is also something I’m very passionate about. I love to play cello and am in a quartet and a youth symphony in addition to being a part of my school’s chamber orchestra.
I have also worked part time at a flower farm for the past two years. Writing is something I’ve loved for as long as I can remember, and I am often inspired by the people and places I hold dear. Although it is only a hobby for me at the moment, I hope I can use writing in a much greater capacity in my future.
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She walked right passed him. He who was a King. It hadn’t been intentional. And as he straightened his crown; flexing his pectorals. Hoping that the sun’s rays would hit his kingly. That this woman would see him. That she would fall to his feet. For he needed her to be his Queen. She might have been if he had come months sooner.
For in her a sea of intensity had raged. A hurricane of hunger surged through her. Its lightning and thunder awakened her. She could only see the very being she was striving to be. She was manifesting.
Dimensions she hadn’t seen. Dreams she hadn’t dreamt. She was inspired. She was ready to defy. She was ready to fly. She was manifesting. Her being had been rebooted. Schooled by knowledge that had been so empowering. She was manifesting.
She didn’t dress like a queen. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail; sweat running down her face. In her denim jeans were patches of dirt. That represented the business she was building. The degree she was completing The integrity she held on to. The book she was writing. She was manifesting.
There, etched into her black skin were jewels of her hard work. All the things her sweat, blood and tears had achieved. She was manifesting. The king went in search of her. Resting his crown. Putting on his boots. Running towards her Trying to catch traces of the beauty that lingered in the wind; gracing time and changing lives. She was manifesting
Shantae Gray
My name is Shantae Gray. A proud Jamaican and a graduate of The Caribbean Maritime University. I enjoy long hours at the beach, reading and singing.
I can’t say that writing is just a hobby. For me, it is far more than that. It has become a way of life. A God given talent that I appreciate each day.
It’s funny how my emotions and feelings are tied to my writing. If I can feel it, I can write it. I love that about my craft. It is my feelings and emotions on paper.
I am working on my first book of poetry and aspire to be a renowned self-published author.
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You will fail to find that passion you sparked in me when you lie with her, for she is the magnificent trees, but never a lush forest, and she is the ocean but never the surfer's waves, and she is the shoreline but never the dotted seabed, and she is the stars that light up for you, but never the sky that changes for you. And you, who wouldn't dare preserve and explore a forest, or ride the mighty waters, or drown inside the quicksand that I was, or push a little harder to reach the sky- I was too great in my being for you. It was not me that could not hold on to you, but it was you that could not hold on at all.
Zahra Zuhair
I write poems about mental health, identity, faith and relationships. My writing comes from my own personal experiences, and mental well-being; a place within me that reaches out to the world, wanting to confront issues that people need to talk about. I think my writing is a form of rebellion against systems which oppress through conformity rather than liberate the individual soul and mind. I am always ready to share my work and contribute to larger causes. It’s what drives me as a writer and a teacher. IG: @liminaling
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The little shed is painted blue with two old chairs for me and you We sit and talk till stars shine high Discuss wild dreams and sometimes cry The shed is dark and meant for tools but staged just right for dreaming fools One day we'll laugh and reminisce Having checked off goals from our shed dream list
If I could paint you a color I'd paint you the rainbow Then I'd mix it all up to make infinitely more colors I would need to start there and use up every one each splendid color to paint the masterpiece that is you
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