They are frozen but not yet gone They feel so sad but cold I can’t Oh I can’t feel my body when I stare at them for they’re so great and I’m so small Cora Gelman, 8 Washington, D.C.
Poem
Wild Wyoming Horses
As the horses ran down the mountain like a raging sand storm, I knew I was in Wyoming. The swift, creek water was mint in my mouth. I felt sandpaper as I touched the horse’s hair. I turned around to see the trees of the forest swaying as if they were rocking their leaves to sleep. Everywhere I walked I could smell the scent of the flowers like the perfume of a beautiful women. I found myself crying as I watched the beautiful horses run across the plains beating their hooves to a strong, clear beat. Gwen Deutsch, 12 Dubuque, IA
How the Universe Came to Be
Once, In the middle of nowhere There hid a Tiny speck of dust Smaller than The smallest microbe. With all the playful energy The miniscule pinprick contained, It couldn’t wait A single moment longer To meet the world And make new friends. So The tiny speck of dust Exploded, Launching a shower Of vibrant reds, Oranges, And yellows Into the swirl of gloom above. And that was how The universe began. Glamorous stars Blinked at each other In the inky night sky. Bits of cast off rock, Large and small, Sped around the stars Like race cars. More and more rocks joined; The racetrack became too packed And the charging rocks collided Until gradually, Planet Earth Emerged from the chaos. Back then, Our home planet Was a totally different world. Infuriated asteroids and meteorites Crashed into the Simmering surface. But planet Earth Tired of its intense workout, Finally settled down, Falling into rhythm Around the sizzling sun. All of a sudden, A stray ball of rock Came hurling through outer space, A furious untamed lion Ready to devour all in its path. But our newborn planet Fought back, Cracking the foreigner into pieces, Sending a spurt Of dusty stone Into the air. But the fight was not over yet– Some of the stone Was squashed into a ball, Forming our Now dearest companion, The moon. Sights of life Finally appeared on Earth. Molecules linked together, And as more joined, Began to make Replicas of themselves. Membranes formed Around these molecules By fatty by-products. And humans finally made Their first appearance As invisible Single-celled organisms. This, Reader, Is how our dazzling universe, Full of all its stunning wonders, Came to be. Yutia Li, 9 Houston, TX
I Wonder
I wonder why we call bats “bats”— why do we call them that? I wonder why little kids burp and crickets chirp and why snow is in the winter. Speaking of snow, why is it called snow and not sand? Why is music sometimes called a band? And why do people walk on land? And why do they die or cry or get mad or sad?Why are we the ones that can talk and the ones that have technology? Why aren’t hedgehogs a sophisticated species? Why do spiders give you the creepies? It doesn’t seem right to me, why the world is this way. I think the world should be different but I can’t make hedgehogs talk or fish walk. So I think that I will just burrow under the earth inspect the workings of the world and see what makes the world this messed-up way. But I kind of like the world this way— just a little. So I will stay here where I am and watch the flow. Sterling Waterfield, 11 Fort Wayne, IN
The Absence of Opposites
Many things are true, I know this is, too: there is no cold, there is only the absence of heat. Heat is a fluid thing that has no form except for life-saving warmth. Cold only happens when heat is not there. Cold is not a thing. It is a happening that makes the body shiver and shake. Heat relieves that pain, makes you sweat (and sweat can be a nuisance) but it is just heat reassuring you that it will always be there. Kieran O’Donnell, 11 Philadelphia, PA
The City
Stoplights reflect off the bay The faint sound of glasses clinking and people talking is carried on the breeze The moon is shrouded by clouds Towering buildings blink with neon lights A lone car drives across a scarlet bridge Karinne Ulrey, 10 Los Gatos, CA Eli Breyer Essiam, 10 Cambridge, MA
Queen of the World
Sometimes I pretend I am the queen of the world Gliding in a silver sleigh of dreams My dress is made of ripped up clouds And my crown is woven with moonlight I float above the sun each day Watching over my empire I can feel every triumph and every Disappointment ripple through me like a Stone cast into a deep crystal pond But as time steals by it is not so wonderful To hold the weight of the world And I would much rather be a normal girl Bound to life and nothing more So I raise my lips to the velvet sky And gently kiss each star in the Milky Way farewell I suppose that even the queen of the world Grows weary of her place in the universe Ana Carpenter, 10 Chicago, IL
The City
Stoplights reflect off the bay The faint sound of glasses clinking and people talking is carried on the breeze The moon is shrouded by clouds Towering buildings blink with neon lights A lone car drives across a scarlet bridge Karinne Ulrey, 10 Los Gatos, CA Eli Breyer Essiam, 10 Cambridge, MA
The Moon and My Heart
The moon ate my heart. My vision was tainted. I staggered forward, uncertain. I heard something disappear. I think— I am myself. I taste the hole in my chest. The moon’s smile mocks me. I know, I know I am not myself— I am merely a whisper Of a husked heartbeat. Rebecca Beaver, 13 Tenafly, NJ
Miss-takes
Miss-takes are like tissues instead of icing on a cake. Tying balloons to a garbage can made of aluminum. Take a miss Miss a take Tiss a make Aiss a ike Eiss a takm These are all… Miss-takes Ari Martinez, 9 Long Island City, NY
Dad Cut My Nails
way too short and now there’s this feeling you know the one that’s like scratching sandpaper with your teeth or really more like where your teeth used to be. Ari Martinez, 9 Long Island City, NY
The Avocado Tree
The chair by the avocado tree had turned a faded green from wear For years it sat untouched behind the orange-red sunsets Built for the old lady with the fishing hat who kept forgetting Its purpose was to help her remember To stay in the present of the ink-washed sand And it stayed there till the time of her grandson Sitting by the murky green water with his homework Reminding them of all the beautiful sunrises and afternoon checker games played And his days looking at the intriguing graphite numbers on bleached paper But before then he would wonder if his grandmother would ever be the same again If she would ever remember who he was without a lost look on her face One day Looking at the plants by the seaweed strewn about He took a nearby avocado seed and buried it into the sandy ground He began to take the wood from his backyard to build a chair Hoping it would help her remember He tended to them day by day From the mornings spent on his work To the afternoons sat with the wood Sanding and painting it as the tree grew And he worked right by the shore with the graphite numbers and the wood Making progress as time went on Eventually the chair sat next to the tree And one day the lady with the fishing hat sat in the chair with the tree And remembered the difference that was made Sara Chebili, 13 Washington, D.C.
