WiR Poems from Young Writers
A Valentine for My Fast Yellow Bike
by a second grader at Longfellow
Elementary
When I ride
you,
I go off jumps
and when I
do, I feel like
I'm in the sky
for years.
Then, when I
hit the ground,
my stomach
tickles.
You are fun to
rise.
Your handlebars
are as soft as fur.
Your pedals can
move backwards.
You are as
shiny
as the yellow
sun.
I will always
ride you,
forever and
ever.
Football
by a fourth grader at Longfellow
Elementary
The hard,
slippery
helmets
hitting each
other.
The wet, slick
pigskin
hitting your
hands.
The beautiful,
crystal air.
You can see
people
dashing
down
the green
grass.
I am a boy
who cherishes
football.
Where I'm From
by a fourth grader at Opportunity
Elementary
I am from kind,
womanly hands
and soft brown
eyes.
I am from
rough, callused
and stern
stares.
I am from
scrambled eggs and hash browns (made by my mom),
and from hot,
crispy pizza.
I am from
mouthwatering meatball spaghetti,
hot fudge with
vanilla ice cream and a topping of cherries.
I am from
memorable sentences,
old jokes,
and pinky
promises.
I am from the
warm water
In the pool in
a luxurious, green backyard,
the worn
rackets after a tennis tournament..
I am from
myths, stories,
legends, and
fables about spine-
chilling
stories of mystery and magic.
I am from
unforgetful words-sensation, success, stupendous.
From
everlasting memories of traveling,
and a crowd of
people-aunts, uncles, and cousins.
Still Life
by a fourth grader at Broadway
Elementary
Sitting in a
vase,
yellow and orange
too,
fluffy petals
opening up to
bloom
Into life,
waving in the
breeze,
flowing to the
music,
in a vase from
Vincent.
Shhh!
Listen close,
you can hear
them sing.
On a table
Shh! Listen
close,
light, dark
stems,
seeds you can
eat,
leaves of light
and dark too.
Put your nose
close,
smell the smell
of sunflowers,
look close:
you can see the
colors
in a vase from
Vincent.
The Starry Night
by a sixth grader at North Pines
Middle School
A very dreary
sky
as the moon
burns off light
to happy the
night.
It paints the
hills
with a glow.
Waves in the
heavens,
as though an
ocean
is bringing the
stars to shore.
Black flame
rises into the
air,
while it
watches over
the morning
chapel.
The Indian Giver
by a Barker High School
student
Give me back my
brain cells,
smoked away
from the glow of the pipe.
Give me back my
virginity
so I can be
pure.
Give me back my
confidence
taken by the
foxy lady who turned me
down. Give me
back my afro stolen
by my barber.
Give me back
this poem,
after you've read it, of course.
Give me the
money,
The money my
ancestors picked
from the cotton
fields.
Give me back my
friends,
the ones who
take shortcuts
in life, lost
in the world
of drugs. Give
me back the house
of God so I can
repent
my sins. Give
me back my childhood
so I can walk
worry free.
Give me back my
courage, the courage to say no,
no to drugs, to
sex, to cigarettes.
Give me back my
direction
so that one day
I can lead others into
making a
difference.
Give me back
nothing
Because this is
what makes me
me.
Tag
by a Barker High School
student
As the drool-covered
ball
soars through
the air as if an eagle
spreading its
wings for the first time
he takes off a
bullet on its way
We shall run
all day as you try to get back
what I took
from you
as my face
feels the fresh dew
me and you, you
and me,
the smell of
fine cut grass
too bad these
are only memories
of how it used
to be
every day
after school
now all I gaze
at is a cross.
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