I was at the pond one day, feeding the fish, under the hot sun. When clouds have a conversation with the sun. A cool wave of air touches my fingers and toes. The fish swim down to the bottom of the river. I was at the dinner table one night, eating the fat fish I caught, under the stars, the only things lighting the sky. When the lights shut off and flickered. My family rushed to their bedrooms, scared and worried. Even me, the bravest of the group, put down my fish liver. I was in my bedroom one morning, staring at my light switch. “What am I going to do in this hatred?” I thought. So I went to my window and spread out my curtains. My next trip was to flip up the light switch. I was at my desk one afternoon, thinking about my math, when it started sprinkling. “Anything but rain,” I moaned. Suddenly, it started to storm with thunder and lightning partnering together. Maybe the Sun and Moon now switch. Carly Vermillion, 10 Indianapolis, IN
Poem
Wildfire
Say one sentence An ember sparks Say another Wind blows and swirls One more A wildfire Karinne Ulrey, 10 Los Gatos, CA Eli Breyer Essiam, 10 Cambridge, MA
What’s inside my messy head?
What’s inside my messy head? Being funny And when I’m dead. Things I should’ve Done and said. And always stress About things lost And of my actions What will be the cost. Was that joke Weird or funny? Or what I’ll do outside If tomorrow’s sunny. So what’s inside my messy head? Maintaining strength And the day’s Shortening length. Being a star And messed up jokes That I try to tell quietly And how to escape Authority’s yoke. Tommy Swartz, 12 McLean, VA
The Mouse Who Played Keyboard
There once was a mouse who played the keyboard. When he played at night the cats came out. The rats came out. The owls came out! Isaiah Albro, 7 Sherman Oaks, CA
The Lion and the House Cat
In the African sun there was a lion and the house cat. One day the cat told the lion to have a race. So the race started. They ran so fast a rock fell on the king of France. The lion won the race! Isaiah Albro, 7 Sherman Oaks, CA
Mother Earth
I love my mother My true mother I smack my feet Against her sandy skin Hot or cold I don’t care I do it every day You do it too Sometimes To get exercise But I do it for fun To love her To hug her To roll around on her lap And laugh. Celeste Escobar, 9 Belmont, CA
Dreamland
There once was a land. So far and fine, Full of dreams and thoughts. The place people came when they dreamed, the place people came when they slept. So far and so high that no one could reach. And yet if you close your eyes, you are there! The creator created it So man could dream, He is long gone but his memory still lingers, To us he is known as god! The people there live only to give you dreams. Their life is a job much like in theatre, They act out your dreams, They make you happy, Without them we would have the most boring sleep. Neel Rangan, 9 Palo Alto, CA
The Red Balloon…
When sea captains say they have sailed the seven glimmering seas, I have flown them. When climbers say they have climbed the highest peaks, including the monstrously tall Mount Everest, I have achieved higher heights. When tourists say they have travelled all over the world, I have done it more times than I can count. But I am only a vivid dark, red balloon with a loose white string. My master was really playful, he was about 7 when I left him. One day he lost his grip and I rushed towards the blue sky like a graceful bird dancing. From that second on, it was my quest to find him. A few years later, I navigated the winds as they talked to me and told me where to go. I crossed the golden sand beaches, crystal clear, transparent, ice-cold glaciers. I have felt the slight tickle of the lush green grass of the forever blooming countryside. I have felt the burning scars of crashing into cliffs or skyscrapers. One morning, I smashed into a fence where a bunch of bags told me to go to the vortex in Antarctica. Soon I let go of the fence and rushed into the sea. Then I spent years trying to find it. I mastered the currents of the water as I mastered navigating the wind. Finally after a few years, I found it. I was free! No more political roars no more cars or horns. I was free! I found myself in a freezing pool surrounded by millions of other balloons. But every moment I thought of my master. Someday, somehow, sometime and somewhere I will find him… Rafi Mohammed, 10 Newcastle upon Tyne, UK
Searching for Bows and Arrows
Because I wanted to feel like an Amazon I asked my father to build me a bow with arrows We went to the nearby woods that overlook Forest Beach in the village of South Chatham. My father, sister and I followed A wavy uphill path to the clearing Where we found young oak trees With pointy strong branches, We sawed off three branches That looked like they would suffice. We carved them and sanded them, And we bent them till they could sing. By the time we had finished tying the string The evening chill had descended. We shot our arrows into the darkening sky Where the stars scampered like red foxes. Tatiana Rebecca Shrayer, 9 Brookline, MA
A Dream of Chaos
The sound of thunder and rain thrashing around, clinging to the Empire State Building. As it flails and turns, I jump through the window. As the small bang of me landing gets swallowed by the sound of thunder, I jump down the narrow stairs just as I hear fireworks. And then I see it. The tiles flying in the air. I hear a small voice. It gets louder and louder until I see a huge flash of light. And then New York is all fine. And giant whale-like things flying are just the sound of morning doves. Atlas William Iacobucci, 9 New Haven, CT
THE MOON
The moon The little moon The lonely uncolorful moon The only friend of earth The moon of its only kind There the moon stand by her only little self The moon The Earth’s only friend The grey boring moon The old rusty moon Andy Wu, 10 Shanghai, China
Poetry Portfolio
The following poems were written by students in a creative writing class that took place in Shanghai, China, hosted by the Stanford University EPGY Honors Academy summer program. My students in this class wrote and read stories and poems in English, but most spoke Mandarin as well as other languages. Many of my students were totally fluent in English, while others were still practicing their English spelling and grammar. I have noticed that students write the most original poems when they are a little bit wild and lost in their own imaginations. To do this, we read experimental poems that break the rules of English or the rules of poetry. We also read fantasy, like The Patchwork Girl of Oz or The Phantom Tollbooth. I think fantasy and ancient literature and experimental poetry do the same things for students: they challenge them to think of new structures, whether new worlds or new ways of using language. For the same reason, I tried to make all their writing assignments weird: Write a poem while sitting somewhere you have never sat before Write a description of humans as if you were an alien who had never actually seen a human First draw your friend without looking at the paper. Then draw your own face by putting a piece of paper on it and drawing (don’t poke your eyeball). Then look at yourself in a mirror and write a poem about your eyes, nose, teeth, hair, or other part of your head Write a long poem as if you were a whole bunch of fairies all speaking at once Write down one of your main character’s deep secrets, then fold the paper up into origami and never show anyone what you wrote When I challenge my students with funny, scary, and strange poems and assignments, they challenge me right back, writing work that is original, spooky, heartbreaking, or just hilarious. Somebody surprises me in every class. For instance, when I told my students to write somewhere they’d never written before, one student squeezed onto a shelf of the bookshelf! So here are some weird, wild poems that came from these assignments, or assignments like these. These poems surprise me every time I read them. –Sophia Dahlin Sophia Dahlin is a poet and teacher who lives in Oakland, CA. She is a teaching artist for Bay Area schools with California Poets in the Schools, and has taught creative writing in Bangkok and Shanghai for Stanford Honors Academy. She has an MFA in Poetry from the Iowa Writers’ Workshop.
