Teens Flipbook


Table of Contents

Junior High

Colder Waters 6

Tell Me What Is Wrong 8

Flowers 12

To Me: Love, Insecurity 14

Senior High

Fill Me Up Full of Love 20

Ode to the Possible 23

Circle 26

Flying 30

Junior High



Colder Waters

by Clarissa


Tell Me What Is Wrong

by Xixi


by Sarah

To Me: Love, Insecurity

by Abigail

Colder Waters



The waters freeze

High up, far past my knees

Deeper and deeper

But I’ve been in deeper still

I’m not drowning any longer

I still have will

Cold as ice

Numb to the touch

But I’ve been through worse

I can withstand this much

Warmer, warmer

Shallower now

I’m coming to the shore

I’m making it out


Ice cold

Freezing to the touch

But I’ve been through colder waters

I can withstand this much.


About the Poet: Clarissa

Clarissa is heading to grade 11 and lives in Ontario. She

hopes to become an elementary school teacher, and write all

sorts of things in her spare time. Clarissa hopes that through

some of her writing she can share the love she finds in Jesus.

Aside from writing and kids Clarissa enjoys arts and crafts,

playing piano and reading. She wants to thank her best

friend for reading and editing almost all her work, and always

encouraging her.


Tell Me What Is Wrong

I have been lost before

I have felt the sea swallow me away

I have feared the past, dreaded the present

Only to realize, that I am wary of the future too

I have laid in bed and wondered why

The world was burning while I was alive

I have seen him cry “I can’t breathe”

Only for him to die under a knee

I have watched students go to school

But never come home because of how cruel

Humans can be and because of how hard

We have made it to reach out for help

I look in the mirror sometimes and I think

Why can’t I be thinner and prettier for me

They tell me that I can’t dress like this or I will get hurt

But when I dress like that they say it is not pleasing for their



I have seen sickness but I have seen health

So maybe I can’t complain about the cards I’ve been dealt

I’ve been told that I should be grateful and smiling

But no matter how hard I try, I feel like I am falling

My own problems are nothing compared to those around the


I know and you know, because here I still am

Alive and wondering why I feel this way when I can

Just go on, pretending everything is okay

Some say I’m too young to know what real pain is

And understand why the world works this way

Do you expect me to turn and look away

Just because it is not me who is has died today

The battles we fight shouldn’t be against each other

They’re fueled by rage with the intent of power

The war we should be trying to combat is the deadliest one of

them all

It is the one against hatred


Even though I have seen it, even though I have felt it

No matter how wrong and vile I think the world is

There is still a true beauty buried beneath, I know

And one day, it will be found


About the Poet: Xixi

Xixi is in tenth grade and lives in southern Ontario. Currently,

she aspires to pursue a post-secondary education in the

science field. Besides writing, Xixi also enjoys reading, playing

the trombone and spending time with her dog Max. She

would like to thank her friends Danielle and Sarah for their

endless support and for being her personal cheerleaders.



Carnations and Chrysanthemums,

Daisies and Daffodils,

Tulips and Trilliums,

all sitting still.

There is no breeze,

or bright sunlight,

no honey bees,

only pale moonlight.

The flowers are immobile

on this quiet night,

the petals keeping still,

almost in fright.

But as the sun rises

and the honey bees arrive,

a breeze comes in,

and the flowers come alive.


About the Poet: Sarah

Sarah is in Grade 10 and lives in Ontario. Since childhood,

she has wished to become a mechanical engineer. Alongside

writing poems, she also likes to wakeboard, read, and do

math. She would like to thank her friends Xixi and Danielle

for persuading her to submit her poem and their unwavering



To Me: Love, Insecurity

Do you remember, darling,

the sweet delicacies of our youth?

We’d scrape our knees on the biggest dreams

our infantile minds could imagine,

we’d touch the clouds with our freshly painted fingerprints.

Eyes not yet marred by the elysian visions shown to us

through screens;

we were trapped in a euphoric state of wonder.

Now I wonder when that changed.

Scars used to be fierce, a cherished message,

“look what I’ve been through, look what I’ve survived.”

Dirty fingernails and grass stained clothing our ties to the


holding us steady and whispering, “I’ve got you.”

There was no shame to be shared in breathing deeply the

sweet air around us,

no second thought to how much we’d been talking,

no whirlwind of voices telling us to

be small,

be quiet,


be lost.

I am found,

no, filled,

with their words, worries that I’m deceiving, constantly


well it is relieving,

to remember how we used to be.

So free, so giving, so living,

I question where it is written

that I can’t be beautiful without permission.

A person of scraped knees and scars and dirt, someone of this


I am made of poetry, not words,

so why can’t you see that?

Come back to me, darling,

and I’ll show you all the new

we can create.


About the Poet: Abigail

Abigail is a grade 10 student currently living in Ontario.

Writing has always been a passion of hers, and she looks

forward to sharing more of her work with others in the

future. Additionally, Abigail loves musical theatre, playing her

instruments, and visual art. She would like to thank her best

friend for always being the first person to read her work!


Senior High



Fill Me Up Full of Love

by Anjali


Ode to the Possible



by Mateja

by Savanah

by Abby

Fill Me Up Full of Love

I met the most magnificent boy I had ever seen

I was so excited and I was only 15

So I turned to him and said, “Fill me up full of love.”

To my dismay he responded, “You are just not


Not enough! Not enough!

Oh God what could that mean?

I held on to my confusion as I turned seventeen

That’s when I met the most beautiful girl to ever

walk the earth

She smelt like ocean breeze and her laugh was full

of mirth

So I turned to her and made my request, “Fill me up

full of love.”

Her response was full of sadness, “I know not how,

sweet dove.”


Sweet dove! Sweet dove!

Oh God what could that mean?

I remained lost in confusion as I went on to


Then I met the most compassionate man I’d ever

come across

His kind and gentle nature left me at a loss

So I turned to him and begged, “Fill me up with


His response, “Oh my dear, my passion has been


Has been snuffed! Has been snuffed!

Will I be loved by anyone?

My confusion turned to despair when I aged to 21

I decided to break the cycle on my birthday that


And I took a good look at myself in the mirror

I said to my reflection, “Fill me up full of love.”

She decidedly responded, “You have always been



About the Poet: Anjali

Anjali is a grade 12 student and lives in Mississauga, Ontario.

She enjoys reading in her free time and would recommend

“The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho to anyone in search of a

good book. Aside from reading, Anjali enjoys playing guitar,

singing, and watching New Girl over and over again. She

would like to thank her parents for their constant support and

encouragement in all her creative endeavors.


Ode to the Possible

If only the sky could glow a bit bluer

I might wander beneath her canopy

And waltz with the breeze, barefoot in the grass

And finally learn to be happy

If only the air were a little bit sweeter

I might finally sing for a while

Croon with the birds and watch them take flight

And at last rediscover my smile

If only, if only, I sigh every day

If only this one thing might go my way

My life could begin, and where did it go?

Crept by while I waited for melting of snow

Now in my rocker, I wish I had seen

The collection of imperfect chances

The would-be soirees which I threw away

The never-sung songs and non-dances


Before your youth stealthily makes its escape

Stop waiting for stars to call you by name

Memories are gifts from you to yourself

So, sing in the desert, and dance in the rain


About the Poet: Mateja

Mateja is completing her last year of her French Immersion high

school education before moving onto the next chapter. That

chapter is still a total mystery, but she expects the writer’s block to

clear so she can find her best path. She is diligent when it comes

to school but prefers spending her time onstage acting, singing, or

both. She loves songwriting, kickboxing, camping in Algonquin, and

exploring new places and ways to be creative. Her goal right now

is just to grow mentally and spiritually as she enters adulthood and

give back along the way. Of course, if none of this works out, it’s

never too late to run off and join the circus.



My life is on the line,

A boundary drawn to keep me inside,

Close to an oval but rounder in shape,

A circle with a cycle I am determined to break.

Wake up, get ready, do school, and sleep,

Mindlessly follow,

reset and repeat.

“I understand its a trying time, but the homework is

due tonight at nine”

Don’t forget your chores must be done,

And try to escape- go for a run,

But it’s hard to outrun sickness seen by none.

I am told, “It is for my own safety”,

The line must be towed,

You’re protected behind the circumference, as the

cases are slowed.

Attacked from the outside, with blows from within,

The circle gets smaller and the madness closes in.


I am expected to be fine- without friends, without


To be fulfilled by my homework, netflix and discord


Disconnected from reality, “forgetting” I’m trapped.

How can that standard be accepted for a teen,

much less a child who is clueless about quarantine?

Left with a notepad and just a screen, it’s not

enough to distract the keen.

What if we want more than just our kitchens and

our beds?

We need no more than our parks or even just a


Somewhere to go instead of groceries or a clinic,

And a companion, that’s it, nothing to cause panic.

The world does not revolve just around one,

Not one country,

One province,

Or the city where I’m from.

This cycle just proves who we are as people,

Selfish. Unwilling. And unchanging.


It’s embarrassing to say that the human race is


Only because the minority thinks they are immune.

And if not that, they don’t care for others,

Partying, while people are losing mothers,

And brothers,

And sisters,

And fathers,

It is a never ending list of people who will be missed.

The circle could have be undone in a blink of an eye,

If we had just come together, focussing on “we” not

just “I”.


About the Poet: Savana

Savana is a creative and passionate grade 12

student. She has been doing creative writing since

she was young, however Savana gained more

interest into poetry quite recently. She hopes to

continue writing farther into the future and have a

positive impact on someone’s life with her writing

one day.



There was always an electric feeling in my veins

when I had to board that aluminum beast,

like taking a deep breath before diving underwater,

except mine was about going up—


Do birds get anxious before takeoff?

A gull wheels about gleefully on the breeze,


There was always a tight knot in my gut, not

knowing if I felt afraid

because flying makes me sick or I felt sick

because flying makes me afraid.

A swallow swoops with delight through the sky,



Do birds hesitate before they spread their wings?

I touch the outside of the plane with a moment of



I always hold my breath as we taxi down the runway

until my breath is taken away by liftoff; we are


The anxiety drops away and I exhale in wonder—

the ground below looks so small from up here.

An eagle soars above the clouds, and I smile.

Do birds feel this free as they lift away from the



About the Poet: Abby

Abby is a young Canadian writer who recently

graduated from high school. She has had many of

her stories, essays, articles, and poems published

nationally and internationally.

When she’s not writing, you can often find her

birdwatching, baking, or playing with her cameras.



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