What is the point of friends? Are they supposed to make you laugh? Cry? Are they there for you? Are they kind? Hard-working? Do they give up? Do people like you just because you’re rich? Will you ever truly know why your friend is being your friend? Lydia Iliff, 10Sewickley, PA
Poetry-Friends-and-Family
I Am Me
Who am I? It depends if you are asking me. My peers know only a rendition of me. An aloof me. Do I even have friends? It depends if you are asking me. My peers know only a rendition of me. An aloof me, whose only friends are baubles and pens. What do I know? It depends if you are asking me. My peers know only a rendition of me. An aloof me whose only friends are baubles and pens, and who doesn’t know how to properly use her head. But what if you were to ask me? Who am I? I know not a rendition of me. I know a kind girl, with many friends, who knows to survive with only a pen. Lilly-June Gordon, 12New York, NY
Chipped
Closed casket Never can I see her again My heart chips My favorite song I will never hear again Another piece chips They try to take the casket to the car My sister can’t take it though She runs to the casket Screaming no no no I watch She doesn’t want to let go As they try to pry her off I chip again We get into the car Silently My heart chips They put her in the grave I know I won’t see her for a long time A big chip chips The gates close Behind the gates My heart hides Chipped and broken inside Scared to be broken again Scared to love Scared to come out But I live on Chipped I pushed people back Never showed love or feeling Only power, no pain No more love to show This myself now Broken in pain Do not fear I will be here again Powerful with feelings Showing myself Chipped And in pain I won’t care I will be here once again I ride back home My home Tuscaloosa I’m silent Watching the trees pass I see Mothers and daughters having fun I start to cry I suck up the tears I say to myself It will be okay Even though I know I won’t It’s been a week since the funeral I am home now Lying in my bed Repeating the poem I wrote during the funeral I look out my window My friend wants to hang out I say I can’t And shut the door Genesis Lee, 12Tuscaloosa, AL
