The orange crayon made the setting sun possible as he held on to the string taking him upwards attached to the rays attached to the orange balloon that was made possible by the birth of creativity, outside the lines as the string swayed as chaos ensued as the orange...
Dear 16-Year-Old Sophia, You will have made it. You will have made it with flying colors and will be proud to represent the rainbow flag. You will have made it with your dream of being a unique, talented, and published poet come true with your book three masterpieces!...
She is asking me to wish upon something I cannot see, to believe in there is another side and a way out, but light pollution and pollution of light; yearning for my eyes to ignite with the sheer amount of power from the hands waving the countless neon glow sticks (at...
By: Sophia Falco He resurfaced as I was drowning at the park, dragging me down further on such a pristine day: children running about, playing hide -and-seek, laughing, groomed dogs barking, chasing muddy tennis balls and some not muddy yet I tried to seek refuge away...
Author: Sophia Falco existentialism may be the way live without street signs spelling out starlit sky does not equate to lit torches fire still seeing darkness energy to moon and back bursting with the blank possibilities verbalize rather not trip up tongue...
Author: Sophia Falco the world was fake, merely a blue green marble that started to crack, the lines ran too deep the same day it rolled off the kitchen table after the argument that this marble was more than just a marble also a representation of the ocean and...
Author: Mallory Bockelman When I race, I’m MetaMal. Meta meaning more, above, and beyond The race begins easy. Less sleep, more thoughts and energy. Beginning slowly but always building Becoming a force of ideas never ending This race is not your...
Author: Sophia Falco These letters cannot spell what has been cast on me to that magnitude, they ask: “Where do you feel this in your body?” and with each breath my chest feels heavier these legs those stairs too much. I’m scared to write to you directly, to...
“For those traversing, through darkness, may the light be strengthened from within.” – Sophia Falco Blogger Bio Sophia Falco Sophia Falco is a faithful poet since she finds poetry essential to her understanding of the universe. She is...
Author: Sophia Falco Call it an act of defiance against the self, but not self-inflicted more like by something opposite to a God. Darkness embezzled my words yet to be born. Each letter was stuck in no man’s land, and I was left staring at this sheet of blank paper....
Author: Sophia Falco I’ve learned to hold on to my dreams even more tightly unlike that kid who witnessed his red balloon when that string slipped out of his grasp rise up up up into the blue sky—like how I will continue to rise from the depths of sorrow, and how I...
Author: Sophia Falco There was no fire to pull out of that volcano like how there was no rabbit to pull out of that magician’s hat. “Where’s your fire at?”, she jokingly exclaimed. Instead of responding, I looked up and pointed, pretending that the airplane overhead...
Author: Sophia Falco These raindrops resemble teardrops that I believed were almost falling in slow motion, but with the blink of an eye, they hit the pavement despite—what once was 3-D now 2-D is now just an imprint on the sidewalk. A darker shade of gray than the...
Author: Sophia Falco The light was unable to filter in between the small spaces of the yellow leaves belonging to a quaking aspen. Instead, the light was stuck behind that dense tree canopy until one leaf fell slowly unleashing the freedom for a single...
Author: Angela McCrimmon The world as we know it has all been torn away, The things I do to keep me well as I navigate each day, The routine that I follow to keep me on the ground, It’s scary as I realise that my world is upside down. I tell myself...
Stigma a small six letter word, But blocks the way; Too unconfident to be heard. You beastly biased blighted word, You block the light you’re so absurd. Stigma stands blocking our path, Scared alone or scared they’ll laugh. You disgust me with your...
Life is like a treasure hunt. We keep searching for the answers to unlock mysteries presented to us by life. We are always on a wild goose chase thinking we are nearing the key that will unravel the mystery, and we end up with another puzzle on our hands. A few lucky...
Our hearts are packed with medicine, our eyes are blinded of dismay and anguished distance between life itself and the voices in our minds that tell us not to try, not to live, not to survive. The doctors tattoo a label upon our head that feeds itself into our blood...
