I love my eyes
I can see the sky and my girlfriend.

I can see my way to school
my eyes are black like my mom’s.

Thank my feet
with you I can play soccer
with my feet I can walk to the park
I can run with my feet.

–Saul Garcia, age 15

From the WritersCorps book “Mangos Have No Borders” at Mission High School
Poem of the Month: November 2009

In English my name means everybody’s name
in Spanish it means a long name, my name
it is like a big tree with lots of leaves
it is like the waves changing and changing
and like flowers because as years pass
many people will have my name

– Catherine Morales, age 14

From the WritersCorps book “My Name is To Grow” at Mission High School
Poem of the month: September 2009

Red and very beautiful
With leaves green and holes.
Small and red.
Very good.
I feel such a good sensation in my mouth.

When I eat this fruit I need my mouth
And my teeth.
In my mouth I feel such a good sensation
And satisfaction in my stomach.

I am with my fruit and we are happy.
I can see the fruits in the little trees.
I feel very good because I see my special fruit.
It’s a fruit from many places.
I think Florida.

It’s the special fruit of the universe.

– Zuleyma Santiago, age 15

From the WritersCorps book “Mangos Have No Borders” at Mission High School
Poem of the Month: July 2009

Kathy Gin, WritersCorps’ artist in residence, visited Mission High School on March 5, 2009 to teach photography to students of WritersCorps teacher Milta Ortiz. Here are the best shots from students Guadalupe Bello, Irene Noh, Jorge Mehia, Steven Morales, Rebeca Zecena, Ertezak Ismail, Chen Tianyang, and Itzel Matias. You can also view the set on flickr.

For Chad Sweeney

The little mute girl was looking for her
Voice, in a drop of water.
Standing patiently, on the other side,
The dog grants the snow
A loaf of bread on his shoulders.
He said: The way is long,
But what you have,
Is this wave, snatched by the seagulls.
By the way, did you know that
A watermelon can heal in fifty ways?
The child was only listening,
Writing her own questions,
Clenching and opening one small hand.
You think I am speaking in riddles,
But the world only means itself.
There is nothing to throw away.
A proud voice later speaks:
I give to Chad a tulip
To thank him for teaching me
How to see.
To thank him for teaching me
How to build.

– Indiana Pehlivanova

From the anthology “Tell the World,” published by HarperCollins
Poem of the Month: December 2008