The calm, warm light filled the room, Our voices, whispers. Laughter untangling into a soundless sleep. We threw ourselves into a lingering feeling. I held that feeling for a moment, Then hid it, Hid it so it could be safe, Hid it so I could carry on, on, In my deep, deep sleep. Iris Chalfen, 8 Cambridge, United Kingdom
Poem
Willow Grove
My eyes open and smile as I hear the young cry of a rooster. I look up to the sky and say good morning to the world. The Snow Queen greets me with a benevolent gift of a curly white blossom. I smell the fresh gift of the queen as I emerge from the house to visit the world outside, plucking a myriad of rainbow blossoming buds that look like an endless field of happiness, dancing with the creatures of the world. A cry from the goose, whose tender feathers look like a long carpet of shining silk, calls the flock. The flock comes to their humble leader and dances with the sun. A splatter from the brook brings delightful treasures sent as gifts to our beloved Willow Grove. I stretch out my young hands hoping for permission to drink the water as though I could be drinking beauty itself. In return, I pick a tender daisy and carefully give it to the stream. I look to the sun and say a humble thanks for this providential act of kindness the world has given me. Eily A. Chiu, 9 Virginia Beach, VA
Springring
Whitewrite Flyhigh Windwing Blossombright Songsoul Mebe Beebold Iris Chalfen, 8 Cambridge, United Kingdom
Hungry Time
Taking Flight Hungry time Low light on snow Tree line is red Chaffinch is up Blue tit too He was my summer friend But not now It’s hungry time. Cheep! He’s here Birdseed boy Hands seed-heavy Crunchy boots. Quick before the crows Awkward black thieves Out of the chimneys Dart—perch Check and check Now day’s first peck. Daniel Shorten, 10 Mallow, Ireland Saira Merchant, 12 Bellaire, TX
Food Circus
I think I think About a circus. Clowns juggle 1,000 cookies each. Lions jump Through giant donuts. The crowd. It watches. Their cheeks full. With cotton candy. Popcorn too. I think I think About a circus. A magician Goes POOF. It disappears. I think I think about a circus. Eva Denne, 9 Newton, NJ
Miserable Day
It is a day. A miserable day. I hear Thunder booming, Rain crashing, And the slosh Of my brother’s rain boots. I watch Through my window. I see Trees getting wet, Look closely and see Tiny droplets Of water. I see a car Struggling to see In the fogginess And rain. I am thankful That I Have a roof Above my head. In this pour down Of rain. Eva Denne, 9 Newton, NJ
Nostalgia
Dark, Light, Dark, Light— The clouds float across the sky, sometimes covering up the sun as they go. Dark, Light, Dark— Illuminating the room, then bringing it to a gentle shade, Making shadows dance on the paper drawings tacked to the walls, in a room with an unused bed. Flash— Light— Dark— Flash— The light from the cars’ headlights filters through the blinds, One car’s lights chase another’s across the wall as they rush by in the night, Going to places nobody knows, As the clock ticks towards twelve, On, Off, On, Off, Red, Green, Blue, Christmas lights twinkle in the chilly air, Outside of houses with fantastical displays, Or on the stair railing of a house in the dark, Blue snowflakes hung in the window illuminate a face of joy in the winter, A winter that means a Christmas tree and hot cocoa, And a fire, A gas fire, And later on a wood fire to sit next to, Even though it belongs to someone else now, Fire does not forget, The shingle on a rooftop looks like the pavement near the beach That lies beneath a baking sun, Next to crashing waves that once played tag with someone, and other childish games, Even though the games are gone now, Water does not forget, Swaying the leaves of palm trees, Near a house that lies resting, Wind brings rain that washes away the trenches and castles made in soil, Rain that is blown into windows, Gently, To rock someone to sleep, Even though nobody lives behind those windows anymore, Wind does not forget. Droplets Rain washes clean a road, Worn down by years, A flower grows on the side, And without being blown, sends its seeds into the wind, Rain catches on the leaves of trees, Catches in the grass, Two friends lie beneath, The air grows colder, autumn is coming, A time when someone used to scatter nuts and seeds for the birds to eat, And tried to spot a deer, Even though nobody comes anymore, The earth does not forget. By the pond surrounded with trees glistening with rain, A path well worn winds, A path where someone would run and laugh and talk, People don’t remember. Sonia Teodorescu, 13 Tampa, FL Sage Millen, 13 Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
Dusk on the Docks
Tranquil Tides The water crashes against the dock Like a chime, melody. The boats bob on the water, but seem at peace. I sit down near the edge, not too close, nor too far. The sun dips down into the Earth, leaving a spill of purple and dusty rose to light the dusk sky. Soon the moon will take over the job of the sun, guiding the midnight travelers. The waves crash against the dock, almost like children playing. The birds keep chirping, as they normally do, but they are not annoying; they seem like a melody this evening, for they too seem tired. Like me. Where am I? Why is it turning dark too fast? What is behind me? What do I feel like? At peace. The day is gone now, and soon I will rest. I feel tired and calm, and the waves seem to start to feel that too, as they are more calm now, like children before bed. Content, tired, peaceful By the water. By the water. By the water. Benjamin Romano, 10 Lynnfield, MA Sabrina Lu, 13 Ashburn, VA
American Monarchy
Every day upon waking up, I wish that the burden of school had never been thrust upon my tired back as I cannot keep up with addition, subtraction, fractions, and historic factions while strangers observe my every action five days a week, eight hours a day, our only vacation being one based around letting kids out to start working on their parents’ farms during the harvest season. And that tradition only stays so that we kids can have a mental break from school although soon we will go back and have our schedule wiped clear, making me want to break out and go have fun before I’m buried underground with a sign above saying rest in peace. And we are not even free three days a week, a freedom I think we deserve as many seem to forget that one day we will grow up and work maybe twice as hard as you and of course, let’s not forget that when you grow old, who else but your sons and daughters will in turn take care of you and yet one thing we won’t do is take your freedom like you take ours. And still we will fight for you even though you dump us in school as the people who are often referred to as “America’s future” find themselves in a government-required American monarchy, where the teachers act like dukes, the deans like princes, and the principal the all-powerful king, while we the future are insignificant peasants stuck in the king’s castle while being told we have to follow all his rules, while we toil in a classroom, making our humor and passion slowly dissipate as we learn about but do not obey the rules of freedom of speech and democracy while being instructed on everything from how to breathe and when we can go pee and not to put our heads on the table and being scolded for doing it twice by a hypocritical math teacher, and when I go to the graded class of musical theater he tells us that we cannot even go to the bathroom unless we are about to wet our pants, and that just so he doesn’t get scolded by our parents for putting their children in an embarrassing position in front of the class—making me feel that this American monarchy has gone too far and is going to keep on destroying our future, even though they already have by filling the sky with toxic gasses—all so they could get a fancy pen and with a few strokes decide whether we will go to college and be successful or end up in a small apartment while working at McDonald’s, all because the American monarchy said we weren’t smart enough to go to even the worst college, which is why at the end of the day, we can say that the American monarchy is a messed up system run by annoying narcissists, and if we want a future, school should be remade, from a monarchy to a children’s democracy. Connor Kiggins, 12 New York, NY
The Ocean
The ocean is a place I never want to leave It has my personality It is gentle like me It is calm like me It is a representative of me! Elizabeth Blake, 8 Howell, NJ
Tired
We are all tired, And my cat is tired too But he’s tired in the way Where he stretches out on my bed, Purring with joy, And tiredness Maybe we should work to make Each other tired in that way; Where you smile and sigh A satisfied sigh, And drift off to dreams Blythe Davis, 9 Austin, TX
Golden Moons
Song at Dusk And it was with bright eyes and a bold step that we reached into the stars. Grouped around our television sets and computers, we cheered the sun on—just one more day until a new start. And we pulled down the diamond net from the sky. The lovely, glorious, gold-silver— we drowned in it. Beauty and riches beyond measure, and we drowned in it. Fireworks turned into bombs and our stars were against us. Nothing was ever enough. Not enough to save us. And it wasn’t. We crawled into our bunkers and time started to blur, and the colors started to change, and flowers began to bloom from the cracks of our broken world. But we fell and fell and fell. Days melted into nights. When we crawled out of our holes to see the moon Big and bright over our empty fields, and collapsing society, we smiled. As we lay on our backs, watching the yellow and green sunset, standing on purple grass, and staring at our golden moon, we smiled. Necla Asveren, 12 Shanghai, China Aspen Clayton, 11 Lisle, IL
