image 1


May 2015

Every night at 7 o’clock on the dot
no buts mister,
I take a bath.
A fruity smelling,
bubbly,
bath.

What my mom doesn’t know,
is that my bathtub is really a pirate ship.
I’m the captain of course.
Sailing the seven seas,
and doing what pirates do.
I capture the sharks,
whose fins poke out of the foam.
And I make them walk the plank.

My mom says that I shouldn’t splash,
and I need to hold still so she can wash my hair.
She doesn’t understand that
my pirate crew doesn’t wait.
So I
just keep on sailing.

© 2015 Megan C.
Tarpon Springs Middle School
Tarpon Springs, FL
Grade 8

May 2015

Sky dark, big, dull.
Honey and pine in the air.
Shooting star crossing the creek,
Leaves rustling, moon bright, brilliant, clear,
Moon in the shape of a smile, a laugh I cannot hear.

© 2015 Regan H.
Wilson Elementary School
Wilson, WY
Grade 4

May 2015

My Peach

I picked a peach,
My mom was mad,
But, of course, I was glad!

I wanted two pieces of peach,
But my mom said we could only have one each.
This time I was mad and my mom was glad!

I was mad because we could only have one piece each.
My mom was glad because my one peach was all we had.

© 2015 Chloe R.
Robert Louis Stevenson School
Carmel, CA
Grade 2

April 2015

It slowly crawled up the metal part
consuming the teeth like Coca-Cola—
snagging and biting
on any loose clothing.

I maneuvered it up
like a train on a railroad track,
snugly slipping
until it had reached the end
of the race.

And then I was enveloped with warmth.

© 2015 Lyndsey G.
Troy High School
Troy, MI
Grade 9

April 2015

Things to Do if You Are the Sun

Make the world warm
Glisten over the clouds
Play hide and seek with the city
Unite with the sky
Be bright by busy buildings
Shine over everyone during the day
Be friends with the world
Shine, Shine, Shine
Then hide during the night

© 2015 Arden D.
St. Leo the Great
Lancaster, PA
Grade 6

April 2015

[Fibonacci Poem]

Falling Leaves

Leaves
Thrash
Flashing
Crimson and russet
Like lightning glistening brightly

© 2015 Edward L.
Crestview Preparatory School
La Cañada, CA
Grade 4

April 2015

My Body

Some times I think what could be going on in my body like if my cells
are having a party or if my brain is
telling my whole body what to do and if
my lungs are pushing every thing around
but the thing I really want to know is what is going on in my body

© 2015 Adrianna S.
Shepherdstown Elementary School
Mechanicsburg, PA
Grade 1

March 2015

Blossoming Flowers

Blossoming flowers
I’m waiting to see them
What a delight
Pink, blue, yellow and white
They tell a story both far and near
That winter is gone and spring is here.

Blossoming Flowers
In our life some rain must fall
Fall on the petals of our heart
Feelings spinning forth afresh and anew
Like blossoming flowers in the morning dew.

A sweet, sweet fragrance comes nigh my nose
It made me jitter, it made me froze
The unknown, I didn’t see a bud
Didn’t know it would open
Didn’t know it would bloom
Blossoming flowers everywhere by noon.

Oh yes, high noon, it’s here at last
A time to have a life long blast
And smell all the flowers along the way
‘Cause someone else will sniff them another day.

Blossoming flowers
To bloom or not to bloom … no such question
Bloom flowers bloom
Make my day
My tomorrow
My future
My eternity
Tell your story far and near
Winter is gone and spring is here
Blossoming Flowers.

© 2015 Christine Lee
MCLA
McCormick, SC
Undergraduate

March 2015

Dream a Dream

The cradle rocked
gently as the breeze
I slip into
a deep sleep,
not knowing where
my dreams might
lead.

Upon a hill I lay
the mist comes alive and dances with me.
As light as a feather
as smooth as jazz,
I dance between the
trees.

I left no
footprints but
only my soul
to keep.

© 2015 Faviola M.
Franklin High School
Franklin, NC
Grade 10

March 2015

The Anonymouse

There once was a poet
And quite a good one too
The poet was self-conscious
And he wrote his name in clues

One night he wrote a poem,
Of his life and of his worries
And when he looked it over,
He entered it, but in a hurry

The publisher read over the poem,
And noted it of its worth
But when he reached the bottom
He cried, “There is no name!”

The publisher sent the poem back,
with a note scribbled on the page
And when the poet read this note,
He re-sent his poem, enraged.

The publisher again found the poem,
And saw the poet’s trick
For he did not but write his name,
A pen name, was his wish

The publisher could not argue,
For he himself wrote poems
And he himself had a pen name,
And he published every one

For the poem was but published,
But the publisher was blue
“Who is this Anonymouse” he said,
“Who writes his name in clues!”

© 2015 Anonymouse
Tenafly Middle School
Tenafly, NJ
Grade 8