HMX Writer SPring 2025

Sarina Lee

You make me laugh

You make me cry

You’re always grounded

You’re always busy

There’s a bridge between me and you

I wish to cross

But I don’t know how to

From Scholastic Honorable Mention winner Annabelle Vest's "You"

The Pink Crayon

Pink is an eager little girl.

With a heart

Bigger than her

Cotton candy

Containing the cotton candy

Sweetness

She jumps

Into the pool with the sun shining down on her

Excitement clouds

The flakes of hair streaking away

Time fades in the blink of an eye, blinking away like the flakes of hair

Soon to be bedridden

She remembers

Remember that one cotton candy

As if it were just yesterday

Quinn Bennett

Artist: Vivienne Oehler

From Ashly Perez Ardeano's "Soy de"
Juliet Hough

The smoke clears and there you are,

In ruins of your own home.

Waiting, for the hated enemies

to come back to you.

Your ears are pierced

with screams of the desperate

From Tiago Carlos' "Famished Child"

[S]ix kids are roaming the forest and things start getting weird. The deeper into the forest they go, the more out of order the forest gets. Then, they start getting into the depths of the forest and they see dead animals everywhere. They then start running, deep in fear.

From Erick Argueta's "Figure in the Forest"

Artists: Harold Adler and Jagoda Siwinska

Fears

Lots of people have fears,

There are fears of blood,

Being alone, losing something

Important, holes, death, needles

and more, but the worst thing

About fears, is never knowing

When they will show up right in

Your face like a big red balloon.

Lillian Galvin

Artist: Anna Yang

I wonder if I’m good enough for you anymore,

if you’ve changed since I knew you

hoping there’s still some part of you

That’s right where I left it undisturbed.

I knew what that girl liked- I knew

Her favorite kind of bird. How she liked her favorite

Root beer floats. Her favorite movies.

But this isn’t that girl- this is someone else

Someone I do not recognize.

Someone I haven’t met yet.

Or maybe, you’re the same- maybe it’s me who changed,

who became different beyond recognition

From Audrey Famer's poem

Artist: Dhanilo Savur

Freezing cold air jostles me awake,

leaving my lips blue and my nose red,

the change rings in my ears,

confident and deafening,

dampened by earmuffs, but nonetheless there

From Emma Lee's "Autumn Air"

"In the country of Potria, the war was still raging. It had been going on for years, with millions of casualties. It seemed as if it would never end, and would eventually destroy Potria. In the tiny village of Hiroy, people were still hidden from the war, as it had no political importance and wasn’t on most maps. The Torians, from the north, never learned of it, but soon, something terrible happened."

From Adam Gargouri's "Final Battle"

Artist: Alex Hidalgo

"Selene woke up in a room that was dark, damp and smelled musty. She ran to the barred window in front of her, but something stopped her from reaching it. Her hands were in steel clasps that were attached to heavy chains drilled into the floor. She heard a dog whining, and Selene saw that Champion was in a cage. “Oh, you poor thing,” Selene murmured. The clasps allowed her to turn and push them along the sliding lock to free Champion. Once Champion was out of the cage, he unlocked her clasps with his teeth. Selene had trained him to do all kinds of human-like things, in case Khan attacked."

From Julia English's "Prologue"

Mali Soliwoda-Doan

Water, the life bringer,

everything in nature needs it,

but when you least expect it

It comes rushing in,

a great wave of destruction.

From James Castiglione's "Nature is Two Faced"

Lukas Kearney

Queen Rhiannon watched the rain fall from the gray-blue sky. The clouds looked as if they were painted on in rough strokes. The delicate yet sturdy trees moved with the whistling wind. Their tune drowned out the soft language of the forest. How could so few care to learn its words? How could so many brush aside this mystical silent discourse? Rhiannon's long, fiery hair flowed around her. Her forehead was marked with the silver stars of the witches. Such creatures protect and nourish this land. The silver magic of the moon shielded her from the pouring rain, and her skin was smooth and bright, even as centuries had passed over her immortal body. Time. A river, always changing and never-ending.

From Violet Widboom's Scholastic Art and Writing submission

I am the daughter of Guatemalan parents.

of a lot of marimba,

and I like to dance the son, with notes of the marimba,

my heart also dances.

Soy hija de padres guatemaltecos

de mucha marimba,

y me gusta bailar el son, con las notas de la marimba

también baila mi corazón.

From Samantha Mendez Perez's Soy de / I Am From

Michal Vaculin

instructions for reading

let sentences strike you like lightning

let words run wild and free

let declarations and arguments and descriptions pull you down deep

deep

deep

into the calm depths of a story

let characters inspire you and make you wonder

let poems feel rich like honey

let yourself fall into new worlds

and let yourself learn of the magic that dances and frolics and sparks between the two covers

of a good book

evan nelson

*The lowercase letters in this poem are intentional.

Artist: Mia Vieira

"Jeni with eyes the color of black like the dark. Jeni with beautiful, long straight hair, brown like coffee..."

From Maria Huespe Morinigo's "Jeni, The Human"

I stand above her grave in shame and sorrow.

Everything around me starts to feel hollow.

I place the flower in orderly fashion,

Just like she would’ve but she would’ve done it with passion.

It feels like every feeling ran away,

But why does sadness stay?

From Emilia Guevara's Flowers in the Rain

"What most people know is the feeling of presenting in front of a stage. It makes you feel blank inside, it feels like there are ten anvils tumbling on top of you. It feels like there's a fuse about to light and then blow up. But the worst part is when you actually present: the feeling is unbearable and. when you do it for the first time, it's horrible."

From Omar Macedonio's "Relief"

A drop falls, a circle forms

A ripple's birth, in gentle storms

It spreads and grows, a widening ring

A disturbance calm, with a peaceful sting

Through waters still, it makes its way

A subtle dance, in a sunny day

It touches shores, and laps at the land

A soothing melody, from an unseen hand

A ripple's power, is not in its might

But in its gentle touch, and its quiet flight

It stirs the depths, and awakens the sea

A reminder of the beauty, that's meant to be

As the ripple fades, and its journey ends

It leaves behind, a memory that transcends

A symbol of the impact, we have on our way

A reminder to be gentle, every single day.

Lydia Andrus

Audrey Famer (poet, above right)

"I remember one day at school when I noticed a girl sitting by herself at lunch. She looked kind of sad, and I had seen her around before but never really talked to her. I wasn’t sure what to say at first, but I just walked over and said, 'Hey, I really like your necklace! It’s super cute.' She looked up, smiled, and thanked me. We started chatting a little after that, and it was nice. It wasn’t a deep conversation, but I could tell it made her feel a little better. She is now my best friend."

From Abigail Rocha's essay

"Michelle, who is a tall girl, who can make friends even faster than she can run, is a girl who gets out of school and hops into a big yellow bus with her older sister ... [and] does her homework as soon as she comes home, and eats a small snack until it's time for dinner who then calls her best friend to talk about school or life ... until her mom tells her it's time to go to bed."

From Angelica Vazquez's imitation

On The Day The Carrots Burned, we were lost.

We were hungry, thirsty, and afraid.

Our mouths felt like sand, and our skin like chalk

We had run out of food.

By sunrise, we found a stream.

The sound of the flow was mesmerizing.

We decided to follow it.

On The Day The Carrots Burned, we found civilization.

They didn’t look like us.

They didn’t sound like us.

They didn't want us to be there.

But we stayed.

On The Day The Carrots Burned, we reached our goal.

We found shelter.

We found jobs.

We survived.

From Lucien Bowell's "The Day The Carrots Burned"

Artist: Neala Greene

"As I walk down this sandy beach, I can feel the sand crunching between my toes. I can feel a light sea salt spray coming in my face as the wind hits the salty ocean water. I can touch the roughness of the rocks with my calloused hands. I can feel the sun's rays hitting my face. As I walk down the sandy beach, I can hear laughter coming from all around me."

From Lila W. Dlugacz's "Sandy Beach"

"Sometimes people feel they need to lock away their feelings

Only they may know why"

From Scarlett Goldstein's "Feelings"

"In Syria's shattered streets, a soul did stray

A refugee, lost, with heart in disarray

Like a leaf on a desert wind, she'd wander and roam

Searching for shelter, a place to call home

Her eyes, like dark wells, held secrets untold"

From Julian Vargas' "A Refugee's Lament"

To stand on a podium

Face the country that follows you starry eyed

Children

You say, we cradle in our palms like jewels

Shining beacons of our future

it can’t be all

not the children we look away from

cries fading into the dark night

as we carry them back over the border

to a country that has no regard for their lives

wrapped like a present from

“The Better Land”

is there no place where being a child is safe?

if what we say is true

not promises spilling, twisting, turning

into wicked snakes

lies of those children matter too

From Annabelle Vest's imitation

Artist: Matthew Wattenberg

my body is girly and

muslim and

iranian and

farsi-speaking and

pink and

brown haired and

medium legs and

white skinned and

small mouth and

feet running and

mouth that talk and

heart beating and

hands that work and

eyes that looking and

my daddy's kindness and

my mama’s happiness and

my grandma’s voice and

my body is masterpiece and

my body is mine

Fatemeh Assadi Nazari

Read more imitations by 6th grade English language learners here

Artist: Anonymous

HMX Writer Editors

Artist: Max Moon

Advisor

Loraine McCurdy-Little

Artist: Jordan Sallada

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