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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