In the dark alley
on a rainy stormy night,
is an old white man
wearing a black and yellow striped hat,
a long beard that has not been taken care of,
a blue long coat,
and brown cane.
I have heard this guy’s name somewhere…
I think he is a poet.
He has long fuzzy weird hair.
He has no smile
and is really staring at me with a crazy look.

– Abrar Malik, 14
From the WritersCorps 2012 book “Where the Clouds Keep You Hidden,” by students at Aptos Middle School

Poem of the Month: September 2012

Anything that speaks to you
Hits a certain nerve within you
Doesn’t solely exist on paper

A song
A dance
A living kind of poetry.

– Jocelyn Thompson, age 16

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

I’ll meet you there
In between Nonsense
And speaking wit the utmost confidence
Like a general to his men
Blend better poems put them together
…and spit out again
Cause that’s what we do
Catch my poems two for one
It just depends…
On whose open mic I beg a pardon
I’m feeling marvelous my friend
…And on the strength of this word I hover over miles of terrain
Pass out flyers in the rain
Work thru lunch just to hear the hush the crowd makes when a gust of wind breaks
The microphone takes
What I can only say
…in so many words

– Antonio Caceres

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

i can’t give you that poem, the one about
love being the most valuable thing in the world
the poem with clever similes sprinkled through it
an ingenious rhyme for the word “cupid”.

i can’t give you that poem, the one about
a modern day hamlet as soldier
and claudius as his corrupt general.

i can’t give you that poem, the one about
a butterfly and its complex simplicity,
the one that makes me famous.

i can’t give you that poem, the one about
the electric chair that washes up on the beach
the one that people misunderstand and
conclude that it’s about overthrowing the government.

nevertheless
one of the attack dogs guarding the junkyard
has six puppies outside the gate.

– Robin Black

From the WritersCorps anthology “Tell the World,” published by HarperCollins. This poem is also featured in the exhibition This Place Called Poetry.

Poem of the Month: September 2008

Poetry is the way sunshine lights up
everywhere. Poetry is the way fog
completely covers the country. Poetry
is the way grandmothers sit on a stool
and weave a sweater. Poetry is the way
flowers dance in the garden. Poetry is
the way notes in music jump around your
feet. Poetry is the way the world becomes
wonderful.

– Wen Jing Karena Tan

From a WritersCorps publication at Newcomer High School
Poem of the Month: August 2007