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AVC Mistry

6 Years Old

United Kingdom


Fuel cars go far and electric cars do too

Vehicles, vehicles

Why are they mixed?

Vehicles, vehicles

Why are they broken?

A bad planet is a sad planet too

Vehicles, vehicles

Why aren’t they fixed?

Vehicles, vehicles

Why aren’t we woken?



Anaiska Courtar

10 Years Old

Sint Maarten


Running to the end of the world

Running past trees

Running through forests

Climbing hills that are steep

Wanting to fly with eagles

Wanting to swim with sharks

Wanting to swim the seven seas

But it’s way too hard

Running with lions

Climbing jungle trees

There’s real beauty

Seeing them running free

Running with the sunset

Sitting by a tree

Running is a journey

Running to the end of the world



Amani van der Camp

11 Years Old

Sint Maarten


Peace is a wonderful thing, but not everyone seems to like it. When it comes to being around people who look, seem or act differently than they do, many people are small-minded. They think others are bad when they simply are the way they were born. Maybe those people are straight-up naive or just want to protect their ego somehow. In my opinion, everybody should be accepted for who we are, what we love and what we look like.


Right now, I’m reading a book called Other Words for Home, about a Muslim girl who wears a head scarf and gets treated horribly after moving to America. That little girl and thousands of people like her deserve better. When I grow up, I want to live in a world where you can be accepted no matter your skin color, gender or looks and absolutely not treated like you did something terrible just for being unique!



Andrea Hubert

10 Years Old

Sint Maarten


My ocean used to be so blue

The scent of salt was fresh and new

My ocean now is gray and sad

The smell of trash makes her so mad



Jolin Xue

9 Years Old

Sint Maarten


Peace is calm and lovely

Every prize should be love and harmony

A sunflower is a beauty from nature

Cats purring like whispers

Endless breeze on the beach



Aliyu Umar Muhammad

12 years old


In this broken piece,

I live to understand how poetry means /death - grief/ and / pain = beauty/

In this heavy cloud on my head,

No single soul caress at those nights revelation pours warmly on my bed

In this world alone,

No human lend you umbrella on those days poetry rain with shivers/ colds

Not in this world again,

Those who will turn to watch you die hand you a suicide note and pray you are happy 

Sometimes, poetry is called madness at dawn, I still love to lock myself up to watch all alone

Because you will have to live alive when there's no one to see you drown in pain

In this lone poem where living hates the will to live

A man's finding of the seven layers of heaven, I look for its ladder in the inn-poetry

In all these lines where no one wishes to see my face,

I mount a journey through the mirror of poetry where faith/ hope is the last verse that join crevices between / life/ and / death/

In this poem, I believe poetry is now a home.



Cecil Cone III

9 Years Old

Sint Maarten


Pink trees are so beautiful, so bright 

They make love hearts in our eyes

Pink trees shine just like the Sun

Pink trees grow for everyone



Ayaan Shahdadpuri

10 Years Old

Sint Maarten


Stop the wars 

We all need peace

Protect the environment

The trees that help us breathe

If we want to save the fish

We all better wish

No throwing plastic in the ocean 

Please spread the love 

That’s what the world needs more of

Thank you



Kjeld van der Meer

10 Years Old

Sint Maarten


P  eace begins with a smile.

E  ternity is how long love will last

A  nger is the ultimate enemy of your own peace

C  eremony is the way we show our manners

E  mpathy means showing love to people when they need it



Daniella Clifton

12 years old

United Kingdom


Glossy paper against my fingernails,

The rustling sound of a

gossip magazine page

As the words fill up my brain




Pointless words these are,

A tidal wave battling against the

gentle current of the important voices,

“What a scandal!” 

“How to have the perfect body!”

“How to be more like her!”

Are these the voices of tomorrow?

Are these the currents that are going to drown us?

Are these the manipulative voices that

drip, drip, drip into our brains until we overflow?

Well, no.

We are not going down like this,

We are not going to be shackled by the media,

Telling us how to dress,

How to act,

And how to live.

We are going to stand,

And live by our own terms.

To have the strength to swim 

against the raging tsunami of voices.



Parinaaz Bains

17 years old



The pathways oh so beautiful 

The ones that were long forbidden.

Always strewn with roses. 

Roses whose thorns were welcomed

for the masochistic pleasure 

that is life. 

But oh ! what ridicule

when the doors to heaven may open.

Heaven itself- the wonderful paradise 

is but a vacant room.

Are the doors better closed?



Luuk Vinke

10 Years Old

Sint Maarten


The Caribbean

A beautiful place where Sun


Always shines in peace



Rohan Rinker

8 Years Old

Sint Maarten


Humanity is what brings us together

Us people sharing peace

Making ways to fit in with others

Able to love even while some are not so good with each other

Nobody is the same -- everybody has unique abilities

Individuals have their own thoughts and want their opinions respected

The feeling of waking up knowing you can control your life

Your parents deserve respect as they are the reason you are alive



Evan Stankcov

10 Years Old

Sint Maarten


I give love to my mom, dad, sister, my dog and myself


I give peace to my mom, dad, sister, my dog and myself


And love




7 years old

Brighton, UK


Beautiful, green plants, 

They make me happy to see,

A mimosa pudica

Or a tall oak tree. 

They need water and nutrients, 

Don’t forget about the sun,

Watching them grow

For me is so much fun. 

In Autumn they turn yellow like the sun,

The leaves fall off like big rain drops, 

But soon they come back to life,

Their cycle never stops! 



Bakare Ridwan Gbolahan

(legendbard Great)


Let the Rain fall from above

And wash away my inner suffering

stoke the fires

To ignite my fervent longing

Send plenty of breeze.

To blow off my  worries into the thin air .

Send the moon and her rays 

To guide me through my worst hours.

Send stars to Earth

to be my spouse and to heal my scars

Let the sun's beams

Bring me hope, and shine a light on my gloomy path.

Allow the dove's flapping wings .

strengthen my wings to fly

Allow the dunes to favor my travels.

Allowing the ocean waves shows me the realm of greatness .

For at this speed

Failure may roar like a lion might.

Nevertheless, the fight is certain of triumph.



Markus Hassell

10 Years Old

Sint Maarten


People need love

End the wars

Add peace to this world

Cooperating with each other

Everyone needs peace



Femia Scholten

10 Years Old

Sint Maarten


he Earth has given us so much

But what did we give back

The Earth has given us a place to live

A place with beautiful trees and lots to eat

Living here is such a treat

But what did we give back

When you look in the sea

You see trash

The Earth is getting a rash

The Earth is trying to heal

And we need to help that happen




6 Years Old

United Kingdom


Mr Rabbit was a famous British Ninja. His weapons were unusual, he used carrots to fight! But not just normal carrots…


One day, Mr Rabbit had a disaster! He ran out of carrots. The only way Mr Rabbit could survive was to go to the shop and break the law.



Jessica Kwandou

15 Years Old

United States


EPIGRAPH: “Those who are young at heart may view the passage of time as an oppressor. When you're young, the loss of innocence is something to be celebrated, but it taints the truth when you're an adult. Thus, that realization is a necessary step toward ensuring your own self-preservation. The ups and downs of human existence can be compared to the four distinct seasons: summer, autumn, winter, and spring, altogether forming the ember days. This means that youth should consider how the beauty of essence might be best distilled.”

tick tock

     tick tock

          the clock strikes twelve


Auspicious June seventh two thousand seven 

The cake is on fire, flames embrace the soul from within

The candle burns as the heat swelters

Confetti falls from the sky like meteor showers

Flourishing in the same intricacy, pressed in the nature of exuberance

This balloon of excitement swells

Now, extravagance is the function of creation

But the candle is melting and my time is fleeting

A nightmare that makes my heart stop when our eyes meet

My day of birth is a hearty celebration of my mother’s pain and woe

Singing a song in lackluster harmony 

I act like nothing is wrong, but the world is unfathomably imperiling  


II. Autumnus

My summer is waning and fall befell upon me

Rude in its awakening

I have been lived by my starving youth 

Milestones? Double digits?

I finally understood that we are moral creatures

Monsters living in the vision of the creator’s cruel world

A world of disappointment

A world of desperation

A world of unfulfilled goals and unattainable dreams  

The thickets falter, sowing the air, so light and wild

They say, “Happy birthday. May your wishes come true.”

In reality, wishes can never become promises



Looking at my distant future, restlessness winter dawns upon us 

Another year twines away

Time accelerates

My heart holds the breath of youth

Not again so innocent

The pain of wisdom echoes in the beating of my chest 

That thrum for the hands of fate that never stop the tick tock

The harvest is in

The freezing wind lifts my bones to the glide of a flying crow

Cooling fingers pierce under the litter of sweet alyssum

When all the days are gray days

The sun rises south

Orion is left open to the zenith of the night

Gone is the warmth of the summer sun


IV.Quatuor tempora ann

I lost a child’s ability to dream

Now a word is not spoken when time shatters at my feet 

Hope flushes out of my sweltering tears

Bagaikan pungguk merindukan bulan, the owl yearns for the moon

The past is but a guest who came and went

No more looking ahead so I should be content

I am close to the finish line I say 

Death shall find me ready 

Free from the shackles of ember days


          tick tock

     tick tock

the clock strikes twelve

Another candle on the cake?

Will spring ever come?



Kathy Jo Bryant

United States

Voices of the past are fading

Now new voices are on the rise

Presently we need your voices

Opting to conceptualize

Future generations need us

To hold dear our destiny

Think it long and think it strong

Stand firmly like an old oak tree

What will happen if we dally

Waiting while the wrong decides?

Firm decisions we must tally

Save our future, turn the tides!



Najma Naseer Bhatti



Listen to my secret

He is aware of my every sound

Every style and idea

What I see today is the same sound tomorrow

Everyone is suffering from heartache

This is the situation of my village

Every eye is full of tears, all are displaced from their homes

Everyone went to their ancestral home

Now everyone is just waiting for tomorrow

The words of gratitude on the tongue flowing from the eyes

All the lights of the calf, the children's voices, the laughter, all scattered

Now there are only traces left

I still look forward to tomorrow

When we will all be together again

Those houses will be inhabited again

There will be a spring of happiness in everyone's yard

Everyone will be with happiness in every sorrow

And I am still waiting for the same tomorrow.



Julie A. Dickson

New Hampshire, USA



Tongue swollen, lips parched

to cracking, seeping blood 

tastes like nourishment, nectar

in vast desert where thirst rules



Down cheek rolls a single tear,

lasts only a moment , contradicts

in minute size, a magnitude 

of fear within large eyes



Murky puddle seems as gold, sought

after to drink, abate a need, diameter

of thirst grown past all warnings,

tainted pool will cause them ill 



Dewdrop clings to overhung branch,

a miniature flood, finally splashes

to ground, sucked in, not enough

to drink, scarcely a taste



Lies a barren sea, expanse wide,

empty, no water found here,

long ago dried up, left dusty

teardrops, blank eyes of fish



Gary Shulman, MS. Ed.


This child of mine you stare at so,

Please come closer so you will know

Just who my child is and what I see

when those sweet eyes stare back at me

I see no limits to my child’s life

Although I know

It will be filled with strife,

I’m hoping that doors will open each day

I’m praying that kindness

will come his way

You look frightened?

You tremble with fear?

Come, come closer

touch him my dear

Touch his cheek so soft

so sweet

Be one of those people

he needs to meet

Someone who will look

and hopefully see

The skill, the talent

The ability

Please come closer

You don’t have to speak

Come a little closer

Just touch his cheek

And when you do 

you will see

He is no different 

than you or me



Nolo Segundo

You think it a lie, seeing that

Old man in the mirror—some

Imposter taking your name,

Living in your house, calling

Out to your wife as though 

He had married her 40 years

Ago and not you… what can

The old fellow want of you,

You wonder, and would ask,

But your fear his laughter.

So you never speak with him,

And he runs the place just

As he sees fit: sleeping late,

Eating early, taking a nap

And going for brief walks

When you’d prefer a jog.

He also doesn’t care much

For taking those long drives

You love so much—too, too

Far away from comfy home.

A thousand carefree miles

Is but a dream to you,

While he shudders like

It’s climbing Mount Everest.


Worst of all, he is less

Patient with the myriad 

Fools of the world—so

He’ll rant and rave

When clerks misbehave!


Nolo Segundo

You think it a lie, seeing that

Old man in the mirror—some

Imposter taking your name,

Living in your house, calling

Out to your wife as though 

He had married her 40 years

Ago and not you… what can

The old fellow want of you,

You wonder, and would ask,

But your fear his laughter.

So you never speak with him,

And he runs the place just

As he sees fit: sleeping late,

Eating early, taking a nap

And going for brief walks

When you’d prefer a jog.

He also doesn’t care much

For taking those long drives

You love so much—too, too

Far away from comfy home.

A thousand carefree miles

Is but a dream to you,

While he shudders like

It’s climbing Mount Everest.


Worst of all, he is less

Patient with the myriad 

Fools of the world—so

He’ll rant and rave

When clerks misbehave!

And his politics! Right 

And right he feels,

Caring naught for the

Downtrodden masses.

Yet he is kinder than

You ever were, more

Thoughtful of others,

More giving, less taking.

He loves his friends and

Doesn’t screw women only

To leave them empty.

Best of all, the old man 

Loves God—he won’t

See belief as a folly,

For he has learned

The real illusion is

Mortality, so knows

Death is a door,

And not a wall.  

You could learn

From the old man

You share a life 

With, but you won’t.

You are young—

What are God and

Death and endless

Soul to you?



Carolyn Chilton Casas

United States


Sometimes in my daydream wanderings 

I see into the far away future,

or possibly not so far away.

We never can know. 

Another family lives here.

I see children playing

in the fields, climbing trees,

lobbing orchard fruit at one another,

like my children did so happily.


An inconvenient necessity—

these years scrolling by—

how everything morphs and changes,

comes to an end. And a new beginning

starts from there.


New hawks will hatch, 

fly air currents over different heads

as they gather, as we do now,

to sit under a canopy of elm.  

Perhaps they will appreciate 

the hand-painted tiles I chose, 

set carefully in the garden wall,

eat the fruit we planted—apricot, plum,

guava, fig, and pear.


There might be arguments, 

maybe some cross words, but

then reconciliations under this roof.  

I hope the words I love you

will be spoken often.

I want to be open to saying yes

to that sure thing, that fated                

certainty of someday.


Pratibha Savani

United Kingdom

So sweetly

I embrace her

So naturally it comes

Unconditional love

We bare as parents

We can't control ourselves

So beautifully

She speaks to me

In her little conversations

I'm there listening

How cutely she sounds

As my love deepens and grows

So elegantly

She role plays

On the phone

A mini adult

In the making

'A cup of tea for me?!'

'Oh thank you!'

As I watch her play


And love all the new things

She mimics gracefully

That she has learnt



Carl “Papa” Palmer

Washington, USA


Lying up under the car

on the floor of my garage

I see his little feet arrive,

the shadow of his head

bending down to ask,

“Whattaya want, Dad?”


“Hand me that number two Phillips

on the workbench over there, son.”


I watch him switch his weight

from one little foot to the other,

step away, start back, stop,

turn around and then

scamper back to the car,

leaning lower to ask,

“Dad, is the Phillips a plus or a minus?”



Kassie J Runyan

New York, USA

Outside the house, 

is there any other place

where you could go?

Across the street

that is paved with threats

and a life…


Oh, my dear girl,

take a step outside. 

You know the threats 

live only in your head. 

Oh, my brave girl,

one foot in front

and then the other. 

Lift your head up high

and make your own damn path. 

The unknown future

is the best part.



Kassie J Runyan

New York, USA

the future is ours

to take

and make


or break 


Melanie Haagman

United Kingdom


‘What is your superpower?’

Asked the little boy,

As he clutched on tightly

To his Spiderman toy.

‘To be kind always,’

Is what his teacher said,

But the young boy laughed 

And shook his tiny head. ‘

That’s not a superpower,’

He replied with a certain tone, ‘

‘Yes it is, my little friend, 

You’ll realise when you’re grown.’ 

This stuck with him forever, 

Stayed cemented in his brain, 

And now when his children ask 

His answer is the same...

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