My eyes are the color of the sea at night, when the sun goes down and the moonlight shimmers when the first star twinkles and the sky echoes the hue of the sea that is when my eyes are drops of ocean Elina Juvonen, 13 Berkeley, California
Poem
The Sea Voyage
I saw a dolphin swim up to our ship, Not gray or blue but green, Just beyond the sea lions lying on the rocky beds That protect the docks from the wrath of the ocean. But today it is still, Our boat making ripples in the dark blue water, Fresh air washing my face, Waking me out of my morning slump. “Over there! Over there! The dolphins are jumping!” The ghost of my grandpa beside me, Like back on his old boat, His spirit still living With the mud and the fish smell, And the sunlight hitting the water and the swaying deck, And the dark brown leathery pelicans Flying low over the horizon. Theo Taplitz, 10 Los Angeles, California
Snapshot
On a perfect day long ago, in the dream-time so long that we do not remember late in the gold-brown autumn clad in hats and mittens we dashed outside to dance among auburn leaves tugging at each other’s hair and scraping fingers on rough pavement cheeks rosy we danced until the fall had filled us and we were whole again That was before the move, of course and now that memory is dust the old house alien with unknown furniture the garden overgrown that was before the move before I traded blustery autumns and snowfalls for sultry summers and palmetto bugs and I lie awake in bed at night reminiscing in silent loneliness hoping for the oblivion of sleep… But someone was there that day in the bullion autumn someone bid us stand by the bluff, overlooking the city smiling, bearing chapped cheeks and nose-tips someone snapped a picture so we will not forget snapshot Ella Biehn, 12 Decatur, Georgia
Nature’s Plea
The howl of a wolf Driven from her home The wail of an elephant Shot down for his precious tusks The lament of a polar bear Wandering in search of untouched ice They are nature’s plea The moan of a tree Torn from its sacred ground The cry of a dolphin Caught in a blood-red net The scream of a seagull Caught in suffocating oil They are nature’s plea A plea to stop destroying But instead to create A new world Where seagulls fly free, Where dolphins frolic happily, And where elephants graze without fear It is a plea to repair the equilibrium of nature To not blot out the stars with smoke But to dance with them Raising hands, paws, flippers, hooves In celebration Of a darkened world Brought back to the light Aiwen L. Desai, 12 Madison, Wisconsin
Spring
The grove of royal white birches I’ve always loved Casts intricate shadows On the pavement below. Black on black Like deer running at night. A young fern sprout Catches my eye. Something shines But nothing moves. An old plastic bag Flutters limply in the breeze From the high limb of a pine Like winter’s flag of surrender. The rhythmic snap Of the bag Is drowned out By the soft song Of a faraway Chickadee. Isabelle Zeaske, 10 Minneapolis, Minnesota
Scared of the Dark
Thunder crashes. My world is turned into a dark abyss from which I will forever fall. Shadows creep around me as if monsters waiting for the right moment. Lightning strikes. For a second I see my normal room with everything in place. But then the shadows come again and engulf me in fear. A giant-eyed spider! No, it’s my electric fan. A poisonous snake! No, it’s my belt on the floor. I feel my eyelids start to drift down. No! If I fall asleep they’ll get me! A little lower. I’m too scared to sleep! Almost closed. I’m too scared to sleep! I’m too… scared… to…
The Writing Tree
I grab for a knob, hoisting myself onto the first branch. Rough bark crumbles under my sneakers as I search for a hold. Odd-shaped leaves rustle as branches shift under my weight. I pick pieces of wood off my hands, leaving indentations in my skin to fade away. Nestling into a worn crevice I look out over the dark, still water, light from the evening sun playing across its ever-changing surface. I lean up against the massive oak, one leg dangling out over the lush, tall grass. Silhouetted in the sky birds burst from the trees. Silence surrounds me. I am alone with my thoughts as a friend. I free my hand and begin to write. Brooke Gillman, 13 Rolla, Missouri
The Pond
The sun glitters on this damp surface, lighting it up Silver fish flick their tails and in a flash—they are gone It is heaven The warm gray water feels soft, as I touch a ripple with my finger Eyes open, I dive Rainbow trout circle me as I push water back One bites my toe and I laugh Bubbles float out of my mouth, Like transparent balloons I feel far away from Earth Tess Nealon Raskin, 9 Brooklyn, New York
Camping in the Fall
Dark skies The Milky Way shining through The once bright blue sky Toasty fire Turning white marshmallows To golden brown Silent wind nips my nose The occasional hoot of an owl The yellow-orange flicker brings Peace to the family Optimism to the air Light dew begins to form Across the sloping grass Leaves slowly float to the ground Nature’s music soothes me Minnesota’s northern lights cast an eerie glow Across the forest It’s half past ten Crawl into the tent Waiting for the early light of the morning Sonja Minge, 11 Minneapolis, Minnesota
Flight
I had forgotten what it felt like to fly I watch as the plane speeds down the runway A lurch The wings turn upwards as the wheels retract The plane flies gaining height dips to the right then the left now it steadies itself It climbs higher reaches a peak and then climbs higher touching the clouds Its blinkers come on small but strong flashes of light tumble through the sky The experience is exhilarating I am drifting and the clouds hover below me a blanket of white Big towers, only a speck below Cities, a cluster of little dots Rivers, a stream of water The light blue sky a deep blue haven I am on top of the world in a special place a small world yet on top of the world My worries left below, waiting and I let them sit not wanting to return to the world anytime soon With one movement I can shut the world away but I keep a little window open And I can see why birds often hang in midair I want to see it all I want to fly without the protection of the plane I want to feel the air surround me but I am stuck in the plane with only a pane of glass separating me from the outside world Samantha Ji Ping Wainapel, 13 New York, New York
Whirling into Whispering Wind
I fall into a golden, crisp carpet of leaves watching as the wind whirls them into a painting of bronze butterflies their wings rustle and I am by the sea again remembering the summer I love the aroma of sweet-scented cinnamon sprinkled on warm pumpkin pie crunchy apples and maple leaves brushing the air with a wash of maple syrup As Mom calls the leaves crackle under my boots and I whirl into the whispering wind Hannah Dastgheib, 11 Newport Coast, California
Monster-Muskie
In the cold, dark waters of the lake in Wisconsin, His yellow eyes swivel about His ns never stop waving I can barely hear the swish of his tail— Just a vibration in the water His brown-green scales are black in the murk His translucent ns are almost invisible I can almost taste the blood coming from his fresh meal Bubbles oat to the surface— He is feeding I imagine the raw, mildew-ish stink that clings to him His large nostrils are He hears, and sees my bright rattle-trap lure His white, razor-sharp teeth are moving up and down I feel the shaking, the pounding, the tension of my fishing line The giant, scaly monster-muskie swims away, The plastic chartreuse of my lure clutched between his killer teeth I hear a ping! as my braided line snaps. Ben Stieren, 13 Omaha, Nebraska
