Literary Journal for Young Writers
Vanessa Chen is a high school junior from Vancouver, Canada. Her work has been recognized by the New York Times, Alliance for Young Artists & Writers, League of Canadian Poets, and John Locke Institute, amongst others. When she’s not writing, you can find Vanessa chatting vivaciously with her friends or singing (or screaming) her heart out at concerts.
This poem is in the form of a Golden Shovel. To read the hidden source text, take the last word of each line and read them sequentially from top to bottom.
Makela Shen is a fifteen-year-old from California. Out of 177 schools from 33 states nationwide, she was awarded a First Class designation in the National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) Promising Young Writers Contest. Her work has been recognized by Stone Soup, Writopia, and the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards. An avid reader, she nurtures an unhealthy obsession for Hello Kitty and has a boundless passion for dance.
This poem follows the “Solve for x” format, where each section begins with a sequential letter of the alphabet, from A to Z, using all 26 letters. The name comes from when one reaches the letter “x” and must devise a creative way to construct the sentence.
This is a 100-point test. You have an hour to complete one question.
Solve for x below.
abc + defghijklmnopqrstuv = x + wyz
where:
abc = american born chinese,
defghijklmnopqrstuv = the shit life gives you,
wyz = arbitrary excess parameters,
and
x = the meaning of life
Makela Shen is a fifteen-year-old from California. Out of 177 schools from 33 states nationwide, she was awarded a First Class designation in the National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) Promising Young Writers Contest. Her work has been recognized by Stone Soup, Writopia, and the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards. An avid reader, she nurtures an unhealthy obsession for Hello Kitty and has a boundless passion for dance.
not letting mornings start without sipping warm water/ not letting grief draw tattoos on my elbow/ sitting straight on dining tables trying to figure out how to pronounce mojito/ dribbling tongue amongst englishmen in the flight to new york city/ n in my name stands for negotiation/ for two scoops of ice cream: gluten free/ for three days of tanning under sunlight & posting one picture on instagram with a brown filter/ for a text to appa: hide the waxing cream from mom/ n in my name stands for nebula/ for sighting in the telescopes scheduled in college garden with the boy i haven’t talked to in months/ my eyes are glued to constellations and his glasses/ for questions i leave in my larynx— anxiety wielding & birds chirp within the gut/ for the answers of the same texture as the bark of neem tree in the jungles/ for the accusations maa served with dahi in dinner/ the nine months of nutrition and shelter molded my bones and skin into tin and silver/ both same in appearance but linger as strangers in bazaars/ maa doesn’t believe what she birthed is the same as what she’s housed/ for the pain swimming in your veins with booze & serotonin/ for violence that cuts your innocence and peels it/ n in my name stands for nonchalant/ i chant for forgiveness in streets on mondays & spill all the equations i forgot in the middle of an exam/ on tuesdays the naan seller looks at me with pity lurking in his eyes/ he cannot sell money for hope & he cannot buy hope for money/ on wednesdays i visit him with a rose and a ten rupee note and bring faith packed to my hall/ n in my name stands for nandini/ a daughter & a girl (by definition) etched in blood and incomplete syntax
Nandini is a computer science engineering student studying in New Delhi. She grew up in the palpitating summers and chilly winters of this beautiful capital. She often writes poetry in her notes app on the metro and is intrigued by political systems in fantasy. You can find her at https://nandini.carrd.co/
“You’ve come back, but I no longer need you.”
That’s what I wanted to say.
In all actuality, I needed you more than ever.
My whole childhood,
It’s all over.
You weren’t there.
My brother.
Gone.
Kavya is a fourteen years old, born and raised in Minnesota and has always had an interest in writing. Her parents named her Kavya which means poet in Sanskrit.
here, behold in my maw
the dismembered remains of a poem
you recoil, but you face it
give weight to the ephemeral
the most fleeting of feelings
pull apart the abstract
arrive
at the throbbing truth
the blood that seeps
from folded palms
legitimize, verify, name it
a poem
it should make me uncomfortable
it does.
Jyotsna Nair lives in Boston. In her free time, she enjoys visiting cafes and old bookstores. She is a firm believer in the power of banana bread.