[x]

ChaseFor the third grade talent show,
Chase Tidwell dressed up as a cowboy
And preformed "YMCA" with an Indian,
Construction worker, cop, and a soldier.

In first grade, his biggest accomplishment
Was that his initials spelt out the word, "CAT",
And for the first couple of years I cannot remember a time
When I didn't have to tell my friends,
"Yes, our names rhyme. No, we're not soul mates."
He was also the first person in my grade
Who learned how to say, "Hello, my name is Chase," in Spanish.

Hola, me llamo Chase. Hola, me llamo Chase. Hola, me llamo Chase

Nine years have passed,
And not much has changed.
Chase became taller, his brai

Mili1.
it took me six years, one promise{dream},
three secrets
and four little words dropped like a bomb
for me to realize that Mili Shukla
was not special.

2.
mili has this way of entering into your life
out of nowhere, like a Tennessean storm,
and disappearing like the last minute of a sunset.

in sixth grade, Mili was the first one to decide
she was old enough to cuss. I always made fun of her for
being short, but now I think she grew up more than all of us.

mili doesn't eat a lot, but she swears she knows she's thin.
she also swears she knows she's loved, but once
she spent an entire lunch crying in the bathroom.

when Mili real

JeffreyJeffrey Williams is homophobic.
But I cannot hate him for his beliefs, like
He cannot hate me for mine,
Though I know there are some days we both want to.

But there's other reasons to hate the boy-
Hate him because once a long, long time ago
I thought I loved him.
But then we both grew up into
Real-world terms and opinions that were
Never made to fit.

So, some days I think I'm just making up for lost time.

There's this part of me that thinks he deserves
A 'Bad Poem'
Because he called me ugly all through sixth grade,
Insults my friends ("I'd like him, really Grace, I would,
But he's just so... gay.")
And expects himself to be a

DanielIf it wasn't for Daniel Calhoun
I would have gotten that part in the
Middle School Fall Play when I was
in eighth grade.

But Daniel's someone you forgive easily,
Just because he's Daniel and I've known the boy for nine years,
And anyway, Daniel kind of comes with a get-off free gene.

He also seems to have come with a blush-easily gene,
Because his face is tomato-red half the school day.
I guess that's okay too, because it's
Kind of funny.
Some find it annoying how he can't stop laughing at times,
But I can't help but find it hopeful- like his open,
Laughing mouth, squinty eyes and bright red blush
Paints a picture with the capt

Matthew M.Matthew Minor married Tim McGraw's daughter
When he was in preschool,
And only in Music City.

He's all sharp angles, curly hair,
And geography bowls he won in fourth grade.
He's holding onto things and letting her go,
Brought up on family politics and Southern beliefs.

Our second grade Spanish teacher
Filmed Matthew's laugh and put it on Youtube.

He's seventeen missed calls and
Gary, Indiana, Gary Indiana, Gary Indiana
My home sweet home.

Matthew got all the solos in elementary school
And loves songs and musicals no one else
Has ever heard.

He didn't really want Mrs. Fortner to video his laugh,
So for ten minutes of trying, al

Ady{sen}Seven year old Adysen Reader
Took her mother's most fancy wine glass
And filled it with apple juice,
All the while telling me that one day,
She'd really be able to taste the stars.

"You know," she tells me, "You could jump from the
Empire State building and survive."
I tell her she's wrong, and that you'll die.
"No, no," she insists, "it's not the jump that kills you- it's the ground-
The sky just hugs you and wishes he didn't have to let go."

Ady's been able to draw since she was four,
But she hasn't been an artist till she was nine, and
Manned up enough to tell me that she really didn't
Believe in dragons, but she hopes we can

CaitlynIt's the little things I know about Caitlyn Cameron.
She never tells anyone the big things.

Once, Caitlyn Cameron broke in front of me.
She leaned against the dirty bathroom stall
And clutched herself, like it was all that held her
Together.
"My sister cut herself last night."
And the one time Caitlyn Cameron trusted someone
Enough to see her break
That someone could not help her.

Sometimes when it rains,
Caitlyn Cameron will stand out in the water
And ask God why she wasn't good enough.
She says it feels good to blame someone for her cut-off angel wings.
She can still feel them desperately trying to take her some place better.

Grace W.She stays on the Internet until
Her dad comes yelling at her to get off the damn thing
And go downstairs.
But going downstairs implies going to bed and
Going to bed means falling asleep,
And she's never really done that well.

She can't.
Fall asleep, I mean.

She lies in bed and plays games
Like counting backwards from one hundred
And counting Sheep, but the Sheep always turn into
Failed Test, Failed Friend,
Failed Life.
But the worst is the ransom game she plays,
Where she's been kidnapped and her parents don't pay the ransom.
But some nights they do, and then decide she's not worth it
And try to get a refund.

She keeps tryin

Allieat the age of one, allie martin
was diagnosed with leukemia.
by three, her parents were carrying around a hairless baby,
and dreading each x they marked the calendar with.

but this is not a cancer story,
because by the age of four, she was cured
and she doesn't know why,
but she doesn't concern herself with the why.

allie martin is the best cheerleader i know,
just because she seems so happy to be up there
trying to make everyone else happy.
see, when she was in the hospital, her parents said,
she was the happiest patient there.

"alison martin?"
"it's allie, and i am here."
if there is one thing i cannot say about allie,
it is

Sydney MerrellThe first thing I ever noticed about Sydney
Was that her last name was branded on my no-laces shoe.

The second was that she was the first person my age to smile at me.

That was when we were five
And played pirate on the run down playground
Where a splinter was a death wound.
I can't make it. You'll have to go on without me.

When we were in first grade, she held a Barbie
Up to my nose, and told me,
"When I grow up, I'm going to be just like this."
Maybe I shouldn't have laughed.

I can't make it. You'll have to go on without me.
It was easier to go on without her than I originally thought.
Just ignore a few house calls, then a few

LindseyIf I only know one thing about Lindsey
It's that she has broken
Far too many times to count.

Oh, and that she doesn't deserve
What her friends say about her.

For two years, Lindsey dated Matthew
And thought it was love.
Only Matthew knew it was guilt
And the inability to say no.

They say she had the perfect wedding planned
Out in her head and thought she had finally
Found her perfect prince.
They hated her for being happy.

But Lindsey is not based on her past
Relationships, and she is not defined by the boy
She's left hanging
Because she's still waiting
For the boy who left her.

Lindsey is defined by the color of her eyes

CameronCameron Bergeron stands tall, but I'm not sure it's
Because of pride, or just
Because he's already 6"2
With only up to go.

His hair is in a constant state of
Too-long-for-dress-code
And his face is in a constant
I know something you don't.

I know mathematical formulas that will make your head spin.
Just kidding, I don't but I could probably
Convince you I did.
I can ace tests without studying,
Argue the beginning of the universe,
And never turn in homework, but still get A's.

I'm out of the loop, he tells me with a frown.
I want to tell him that he's so lucky to be out of the loop.
Because inside, it's always hatemehateyoulo

Xavixavi prances around with nine year old gold
stars on his shirt and tells other people they're
messed up.

his friend asked him the question,
"if she and me were dangling over a fire, who would you save?"
he asked us what we wanted to do after school.
his friend said soldier, i said poet.
xavi said he'd save me
because words are more important than guns.

just kidding, he hates me.
but Xavi's the kind of person who
i think would say that.

he's Spanish and an atheist and English and freaky
and crazy and American,
but I'm starting to think Xavi's tired of labels.

i tell him I'm sick of being called
emo,
and he says, "I know."

JonahJonah's eyes are as blue as the ocean
He almost never went to
And the sky he almost never saw.
But that's putting it too poetically, I guess.
His eyes are blue, just like mine.
His skin is white and Belgian
And he probably still has a scar on his chest
From a surgery his two-years-older brother can't
Remember him having.

Jonah comes to school every Monday with
A new skinned knee or scabbed arm.
And if he's that bad at longboarding,
I tell him, he should just quit.
He just laughs.

Jonah has stolen my journal to read my poems
More times than I can count.
I just hope he's found them interesting, because
There's something about

Daniellei am sorry this took so long
to write. i think i have been too focused on
reality and how the universe is big and Danielle is so small
that i forgot that Danielle thinks the universe
will never be too big.

she grabs my hand and drags me down the hallway:
"c'mon, Grace- skip!
if you think too much, your life will stick like that!"

no one can be that happy all the time,
so i think a lot of the time it's fake
and i think a lot of the time she just wants to stop.
but she doesn't, and she does it on purpose.
because-

Danielle tells me, "your hair looks
heavy metal, today" because she knows i think
people lie when they say things li

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More from ~MisfitableGrae

the most honest poem i've ever writtenI keep a bible by my bed and tell myself
One day, I'll read it.

I'm that jigsaw puzzle your grandmother gives you
That you never really wanted.
I'm a shipwreck you just know will happen, and yet
You're still standing on the shore, waving
Good-bye to your loved ones.

I like rain and you and breathing
And only one of those is optional.
I think horrible things are funny,
and cry when I lose something I thought
I'd have forever.

For what it's worth, I can't
Imagine next year without you
And I've always wanted a friend with ground eyes
'Cause I've spent too long in the sky,
I'm sick of 'flying'.

If I had a god, I'd call her Mom.

things i'll tell her somedayher eyes are still closed
when i meet my daughter for the first time.
she's pressed against my stomach
unknowingly touching
2, 4, 6, 8, 10 scars.
she's scradled with spray-tanned wrists that
don't really hide the complete truth.
i think of laughing- how could something so
ugly hold something so beautiful?
but i just clutch her closer and promise
that the same things will not happen to her.

in a world that will treat her wrong,
i swear i will raise her right.

i will form her hand into the shape of a gun,
just so i can show her the peace sign.
i'll teach how to forget to breathe,
but only for things she thinks are worth it-
lik

Beautiful SkeletonWhen I grow up, I'm going to plant
Dandelion seeds in front of my house.
I know they're weeds; I don't care.
I'm tired of the beautiful.

Mirror, Mirror, on the wall,
Who's the thinnest fairest of them all?
She can count her ribs, she's almost dead
And yet she's still fat inside her head.

Did you know there's enough spray-tan in America to
Paint the snow in Alaska a mile deep?
Did you know that the lip-stick in California alone
Could cover the Hollywood Walk of Fame with the word 'ugly'- twice?

I'm sick of saying 'beautiful'
And 'ugly' is the harshest four-letter word I know.
If I hear 'starved' one more time, I'm going to throw

iktsuarpoki.
The mug's still warm in my hand, with imprints
Of two pairs of lips on either side.
I look down at the hot chocolate and think of your eyes.
Brok-broke-broken.
I toy with the idea of throwing the cheap San Fran mug at the wall-
Play with the idea of dropping it on the stone floor- But that
Wouldn't bring you back.
Nothing will,
And hot chocolate is as hard to get out of the carpet as blood is,
And heaven knows if you taught me one thing it was to be practical.
(And that love does not exist,
And that I'm a B- student, not a princess,
And that nothing's prettier than a kicked over dandelion.)

ii.
I threw away the book you gave

papered blackbirdWe stopped going to church when it
Interrupted with the scheduling of my dad's favorite radio show.

I stopped believing in God when my
Time-machine turned into a card-board box.

I started believing in myself when
Someone told me
I could.

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Submitted: August 17, 2012
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Samantha

by ~MisfitableGrae, Aug 17, 2012, 6:17:04 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

^{Samantha McCaleb ends almost every text
With a smiley face and if she keeps
Over-using it, I tell her, it will eventually
Lose meaning. She looks up from her phone, smiles and says,
"Doesn't everything?"

She's a book lender, an emotion-eater,
And the kind of security blanket
That thinks it's ratty and tattered, but really is
The best protection from the words
That like to attack the back.

Samantha says it's stupid to expect instant fame,
And I guess it is, but I know it hurts when
She sings to her camera late at night,
Each note sounding like a hope she thinks she
Doesn't deserve. Her words are written from
The heart she tries to hide on the inside of her sleeve
Because she's slowly realizing it's less dangerous like that.

She wants to sing and she wants people to listen,
But I don't think she knows when to stop waiting.
Patience is a virtue some days I think she's missing.
But other days, I look and she has too much.

Samantha is too caught up in social politics
And "Does he like me? I hope he likes me,
But he said he did, but then he doesn't act like it,
Somebody love me, please."

She wears cowboy boots every day, and
Has never been out of the South.
Her mother once forced her to get a spray-tan,
And she walked around orange for a few months.
She's been a cheerleader since a boy told her
He thought she'd look good in the uniform-
It's amazing how far words like that can go,
Especially to a girl who's afraid of people's opinions
Almost as much as she's afraid of tornadoes.

Her parents have been divorced for five years now,
And Samantha's learnt to overuse the word "love"
Like she does her smiley faces.

I think she's afraid
Of that word when it has meaning,
So flings it around and waits patiently for the day
When it can't hurt her.}

Samanthaby ~MisfitableGrae

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

_{People on Paper 12

The idea for about half this poem's format came from ~doodlerTM. Awesome person, right three.

IDK, guys, I'm running out of ideas for format. I'm actually contemplating doing one in haiku. o.O Yeah, no.

BUT. THERE ARE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS RIGHT NOW THAN THE FUTURE. THERE IS SAMANTHA.

[link] <-------Sam's youtube channel. Please, please check it out. I know I've said this before but this girl would be going places if enough people gave her a push.

(I even wrote her a song and she sang it and put it up there xD it's terrible, so I'd suggest her song, "Not Afraid".}

love 1 1

~~joy 0 0~~

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~Deviant-Defaroe Aug 21, 2012

I loved this poem and I love your friend's voice. Both are truly amazing

~intricately-ordinary Aug 17, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

So, I just wanted to say, this is the third I've read of your People on Paper poems. All of them... are just magical. I've fallen for them.
I like to believe every single word matters, and the most meaning is found in the indirect actions. Because those are what spell out a person.
Whenever anyone asks about me, I tell them all the little things. Like how I write notes to myself and leave them places I know I'll forget about. And how my favorite part of the day is that minute after you wake up and don't remember anything that's happened. I think those tiny things are the most important details about a person.
We are a patchwork of all our quirks and it's those little things that decode the greater picture that is us.
That all said (as I ramble too much about myself...) I love these poems. So much. They are absolutely perfect, some of the most intriguing things I've ever read. The people you've written them about must be the luckiest in the world.
You really understand them. And you've really crafted something beautiful out of all the scraps that should mean nothing, but turn out to be their entire composition.
I love how I'm able to draw conclusions about these people and see them with real identities in your work.

Absolutely beautiful
sorry for the long comment...