Spring is Coming

From naked trees, droplets of dew,
Drips like tears onto my upturned face.
Everything is bleak, nothing new.
No creation feels like outer space.

Hear ye, hear ye, everyone come.
What, a spot of bright green on that tree?
Although it’s as small as a crumb,
See it sprout, what a blessing it be.

Soon, the ground will burst with color.
Tulips and daisies will fill the floor,
Forest green grass will grow taller,
Trees, sunlight, and flowers galore!

 

Voices of the Victims

Here in our quiet land, they keep coming,
With each step, each gunshot sound, hearts numbing.
Dry bloodstains on our children’s faces,
They who vex and hurt us, they leave traces,
Of shooting bullets, not bright shooting stars.
Instead of sweet tasting dreams, they leave scars.

But why, we ask, we did not commit crimes,
We did nothing to deserve bitter times.
Our children are dying, what can we do,
But wail of agony; they have no clue.
As many moons pass, we still live in fear,
Yet, taking action will make the path clear.

Now, we will not let our hands be in chains.
Passion for liberty flows in our veins.
Never giving up, never letting go,
We will soon escape our ever cruel foe.
The oppressed will learn to stand up again,
So do not lose hope, my women and men.

 

Uvin Ko is a 10th grade student that goes to Troy High School in California. She aspires to become someone who changes the world someday.

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5 Responses

  1. Joe Tessitore

    Dear Uvin,

    If you continue to respond from your heart, as you so clearly do in your poetry, Im sure you will change the world someday.

    Joe

    Reply
  2. Yolanda

    Words of wisdom from someone so young. Keep creating images to change the hatefulness that kills and beauty that grows. Enjoyed reading what you wrote. God bless you child of creating.

    Reply
  3. David Watt

    You display great sensitivity for one still of relatively tender years. I enjoyed reading your poems as they truly capture and convey feelings.

    Reply
  4. David Hollywood

    There is a sense of the tragedy for refugees in your poem ‘Voices of the Victims’ and the confusion it causes to our sense of what is right, or wrong, and so it should be and well done!

    Reply

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