dear cat

On October 27, 2015
a letter by [destiny]

Why am I your scratching post? When I wake up, you’re scratching me. When I get home, you’re scratching me. And when I eat, you’re staring at me. When I take a shower, you jump in with me. When I go to sleep, you’re still SCRATCHING me! This is a disgrace. I feed you catnip, I give you square-shaped snacks, I give you water. I even give you Friskies pushed flatly down in a little cat bowl. Sure it’s slimy, but I do it anyway. And I clean up after you—that’s worse. I do all this, and yet, I bet right now you’re thinking ‘I’m gonna scratch her when she comes home.’ Really, Cat?

Sincerely,

Destiny

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pumpkin bread

On October 27, 2015
a story by [mikkayla]

Every time Christmas comes, my grandmother tells us she’s gonna make us pumpkin bread. It’s got peanuts inside, and it tastes so amazing. The taste is so moist, and the bread is so hot when it comes out of the oven. My grandmother works hard, and still comes home and cooks for the holiday.

The memories I associate with that bread are the conversations we have, and my grandmother’s hair, all wild. She has her mittens on, with her apron and her flip-flops. We listen to a little music. We dance and everything else.

The time when I enjoy her bread the most is on Christmas morning. I’m with my mom, my sister, and my brother. We’re just getting done giving presents, and we’re still in our robes. Then we get dressed and get ready to go over to my grandmother’s house.

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fresh new ‘do

On October 27, 2015
a poem by [amari]

Fresh new ‘do,
you mad or nah?
I got my synthetic weave.

Y’all haters, don’t hate.
It makes you look
even more
desperate.

Never mind, you can
hate all you want.
It makes me look
even better.

Cause I’m the baddest
in the building.
Ghetto girls rock.
Yeet!

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mac n cheese

On October 27, 2015
a poem by [maciah]

Okay…so Mac N Cheese
is my nickname. My closest friends
call me that
because I love the food.
And because
the first three letters in my name
are also
the first three letters of the food.

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dear chair

On October 27, 2015
a letter by [tre’yonna]

I like you because you’re comfortable. You don’t let me fall on the ground. That’s why you have four legs! You back rest is very neat, too.

Sincerely love,

Tre’yonna

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art class

On October 27, 2015
a poem by [eunique]

I sat in my art class, my art teacher had told us to draw something that we love.
My mind went completely blank,
and I found myself fantasizing about you sitting in front of me as I drew you.
I fantasized of your smooth skin and your green eyes.
Now I have an ‘F’ in art because I was too busy fantasizing about something I can’t have.

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to be honest

On October 27, 2015
a poem by [journey]

Listen up real quick, y’all thought y’all was slick.
Bet y’all thought y’all was my friend, but it’s all eyes on me when I come in.
Y’all all on games, but y’all just some lames.
Nobody step to me, cause they know what’s up.
Get all up in my space and I’ll mess you up.
Now y’all know what I’m about, I’m about to leave, so peace out.

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dear anonymous girl

On October 27, 2015
a poem by [marcus]

Dear Anonymous Girl
The one I dream about
I have something to tell you
Please don’t scream or shout
I’m not from this world
I’m from way, way out

My name is Zek
I came here to ask you out
I’m from planet Zek
I know what you’re thinking
“WHAT THE HECK”
But don’t worry I’m the prince
Now enough on me
I’m here for you
The one I’ve been protecting
I wish I could be with you
But there is something holding me back
My sister
Dear Anonymous Girl

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feather and steel

On October 20, 2015
a poem by [eunique]

you seemed to be made of steel.
I seemed to be a piece of a feather.
I honestly don’t know why I loved you, because a feather shouldn’t like steel.
a feather should just be pulled through the the wind just like steel should be a weapon.
and that’s the thing, you were a weapon.
like I said, a feather shouldn’t like steel because somewhere along the way the feather will be on the floor gasping for breath, and the steel will mindlessly crush the feather.

you crushed me.

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crepes

On October 20, 2015
a poem by [lacie]

Crepes yummy. Yummy in my tummy, that is. I can just imagine myself now eating a delicious nutella crepe. Or maybe banana and cream. I can choose. What do I do? Which do I choose? Do you know what I should choose? Come on, tell me, you stupid piece of paper! I am getting mad. Nope, nothing. Fine, I will ask my mom or maybe my brother. Anyway, thank you for nothing.

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