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

Luminous and pale, it floats over my head,
silver orb. It reflects back to me from the
depths of a puddle at my feet. It casts a ghostly
blue hue to my skin. Streetlight. I know the
difference, flicker and die. Let me see the moon.

– Anna-Mei Myers, age 15

From the WritersCorps book “Paper Dreams” at International Studies Academy
Poem of the Month: June 2009

My grandmother is the stars in the night sky
Shining brightly.
Directing its light to those who are in the dark.
She is the mountain that protects the valleys below
Even if there are rockslides once in a while.
She is a woman who is a thunderstorm when she is angry
And a nice summer day when she is happy.

– Nathalie Guillen, age 11

From the WritersCorps book “My Name is a Book of Lives” at the San Francsico Main Library
Poem of the Month: May 2009

You make me feel
Like an African Queen
Who doesn’t have to lift a finger
You make me feel like a butterfly
Who is getting ready to burst out of her cocoon
To show off her beauty
Even though you are a woman who has been beaten
And didn’t say anything because you were scared
Through all that you survived
You make me feel like an African Queen
You make me feel
The way I feel

– Emauni Crawford, age 12

From “Tell the World,” published by HarperCollins
Poem of the Month: April 2009

I am the green of your eyes
and the red tiny tomatoes
filled with the water of sadness.

I am the snow bear
skating on a frozen lake
and the Himalaya
shrinking day after day
and everyone knows why.

It’s hard to say my name.
That’s why people call me my nickname, Abdul.

I am the soccer ball who never
betrayed its team and offered them
the World Cup.

I am young male red apple
feeding humanity,
an African of Moroccan blood,
fishing for the fourth language.

I am a giant cactus all alone
in the center of the ocean
protecting myself from the noise.

I am the end of the week
at school, the day of my favorite food,
couscous on the moon.

I am the blood of the Red Sea,
calm and warm.

– Abdessalam Mansori

From the anthology “Tell the World,” published by HarperCollins
Poem of the Month: March 2009