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

I am Lateefah
      a woman, a mother
      a survivor of my experiences.

I am a believer
     of GOD, of miracles,
     of picket fences and little league games.

I am insightful
     able to look at and analyze
     my prejudices, my troubles,
     my world.

I am everything that they don’t want me to be.

I am working, I’m articulate
I love books, I watch the news.
I am able to prove them wrong.
I am smart.
I am Black.
     I am Black, I am Black

I am struggling,
     hungry at times
     striving for my own space.

I am a winner who continues to lose.

– Lateefah Simon

This poem is featured in the exhibition This Place Called Poetry.

I am
the prisoner of my own mind
a poet waiting to be free
by words and paper
I am
the solid shield of a turtle
that no one can break with words
I am
the bird that sings
but no one understands me
I am
the orange that waits to be eaten
by a person who is patient
waiting until I am as sweet as honey.

– Christiam Morales

From the 2008 WritersCorps book “Mangos Have No Borders” at Mission High School
Poem of the Month: May 2008

I am the son of Cuba
where the ships are floating in Cienfuegos Bay
and the people are working hard
to survive their misery.
I am the son of the spring.
I am the beginning of everything
that makes things alive.

I am the son of the lion.
I have the strength to face the problems in this life
without any fear because my father protects me.

I am the son of the water.
My purpose is to satisfy the thirst
of the people who eat sand and darkness.
Many people seek me but they don’t appreciate my favor.

I am the son of San Francisco
where South Van Ness crosses 24th Street,
where many people speak different languages.
I am the noise of the cars
and one old man selling ice cream,
and his voice sounds like a crow without hope.

I am history’s child,
the wind over the Island of Cuba.

– Dainiel Jimenez

From a WritersCorps publication at Mission High School, and from “Tell the World,” published by HarperCollins.

Poem of the Month: November 2007

I am the wind
that blows your window curtains
apart, the wind that blows the leaves
off the trees and onto the dry grass.

I am that wind!

I can be gentle
or mad, but no matter what,
I am still that wind.
When I am gentle, I blow
not even an ant,
but when I’m mad, I shatter everything.

I am the wind!

I can mix
with water
to become hurricane
and after, nothing but rain.
I am the rain
going away
as the summer comes.

But I’ll be back.
I will be born from rivers, lakes, and oceans.
I am that rain.

– Anthony Mejia, 13

From the WritersCorps anthology “Solid Ground”
Poem of the Month: May 2007