I have held my hands open forever I have let rain fill my hands with liquid Glazing them with a beautiful scene I have let life gift me with my soul I hold pride by holding my hands out I will hold them till all the green in the world is gone And put in my waiting hands Till the rain gives way and the Storms retreat to a forever slumber Till there is only me Standing there With my hands Open waiting Analise Braddock, 10Katonah, NY
Just One
No more than one soul Scattered the Earth Just one No more than one has been found On search for more Just one mind Compared to the nights’ thousand minds Every light a soul and a mind a Bright blooming star I don’t have more than one I don’t have more than one mouth, one mind, one soul Some have many I see They walk along Talking To themselves And asking In the reflection Of the lake “How do I look?” They wait for an answer “Perfect as always” They walk with Their many minds And a thousand eyes Holding a Thousand souls While I walk With one One soul One mind One heart One set of eyes One only Just one. Analise Braddock, 10Katonah, NY
Rainy Day Colors
iPhone 6s Laylah Rose Burstein, 10Berkeley, CA
Editor’s Note
And the flies were dancing and buzzing, and joining in, and there was some sort of silent party with no music, because the only sounds were the birds and we wanted that. We never wanted it to stop, just wanted to stay, my mother and father with their wine, laughing, me, running, slipping in the wet grass, laughing at the chickens. In this excerpt from her magnificent poem “On an Equestrian Farm [1],” Emma Hoff perfectly expresses the feeling of being on vacation (and especially a lazy July and August kind of vacation!)—sitting outside, listening to the flies and the birds, laughing, being together, and never wanting it to end, while also knowing it is so perfect and wonderful in part because it will end. This summer, I hope each of you enjoys at least one day that makes you feel this way. And then consider writing about that day or that week, turning to Emma’s poems— she has written two about her time on an equestrian farm with her family—as examples. In both, she captures the place and the way she related it, masterfully mixing mundane details with more philosophical observations.
Blooming
Acrylic Alyssa Wu, 13Pleasanton, CA
Editor’s Note
It is June. I feel like sighing with relief even writing those words. There is something about summer, even when you’re no longer in school, that just makes you relax. The heat makes everyone slow down, I guess—and people take vacation, which means the working world can’t move at its usual pace. Even though I had so much time in the summer growing up, I always found myself gravitating toward poetry and shorter books during June, July, and August. Short but serious. Pieces that I could read quickly, as if they were melting popsicles. So, this June, here is an issue of shorter pieces to dip in and out of as you finish school and make your way to the beach or pool. I love how so many of these pieces focus on the smallest moments in our lives—like taking a test—but in a way that turns them into unusual, and in some cases even fantastical, events. Read! Write! Relax! Enjoy the start of summer.
Stone Soup Honor Roll: June 2022
Welcome to the Stone Soup Honor Roll! We receive hundreds of submissions every month by kids from around the world. Unfortunately, we can’t publish all the great work we receive. So we created the Stone Soup Honor Roll. We commend all of these talented writers and artists and encourage them to keep creating. – The Editors Scroll down to see all the names (alphabetical by section), including book reviewers and artists. POETRY Eva Denne, 10 Lorelai Ortiz, 8 Ava Shorten, 11 Rose Torrey, 8 Anabelle Wilson, 13 STORIES Christina Kim, 12 Katie Meng, 12 Lucia Osborn-Stocker, 13 Veda Vivek, 12 Ethan Wang, 11
Highlight from Stonesoup.com
Writing Workshop #53, with William In this writing workshop, William asked participants to focus on an origin story of a great character Beginnings Madeline Kline, 12Potomac, MD Everyone always focuses on the end. Never the beginning. When people talk about my writing, their comments always have something to do with my endings. People love a strong ending. They love a powerful note, a note that resonates with readers. They always forget the beginning. Always. If life were a story, childhood would be the beginning. The first few notes, the introduction to the song, or the part of a story where the reader goes around getting accustomed to the characters. If my life were a story, I would have too many characters in my beginning to keep track of. Me, my family, the people in my young writers club, everyone else I’ve ever known. The thing is, life keeps introducing new characters and forgetting about the old ones. It’s almost as if the writer can’t make up her mind. Should she keep this character throughout the story? Should she add someone else as the best friend? Should she add a redshirt, a character who’s introduced only to dramatically leave the show? But it doesn’t matter what she does. Because nobody ever pays attention to the beginning. I find examples of that throughout my life. When I get a bad grade on an eighth-grade assignment because I turned it in fifteen minutes late. It’s the end of the world, but it’s not. Because middle school doesn’t matter. Neither did elementary school. So why does childhood matter? Why do I need to add extravagant language, beautiful imagery, outstanding metaphors, when nobody pays attention anyway? Does childhood ever start to matter? The answer is no, I think, as I turn the corner, heading uphill toward my high school. I’m alone outside, with no company but my own mind, and my own footsteps. The sun decided to sleep in today. When I left my house, it was still dark, and chilly. Now, the sun is lazily climbing out of bed, yawning. It radiates enough heat to push my jacket off my shoulders, and I pause to tie the jacket around my waist, now that I no longer need it. Read the rest of Madeline’s piece at https://stonesoup.com/stone-soup-writing-workshop. About the Stone Soup Writing Workshop The Stone Soup Writing Workshop began in March 2020 during the COVID-19-related school closures. In every session, a Stone Soup team member gives a short presentation and then we all spend half an hour writing something inspired by the week’s topic or theme. We leave our sound on so we feel as though we are in a virtual café, writing together in companionable semi-silence! Then, participants are invited to read their work to the group and afterward submit what they wrote to a special Writing Workshop submission category. Those submissions are published as part of the workshop report on our blog every week. You can read more workshop pieces, and find information on how to register and join the workshop, at https://stonesoup.com/stone-soup-writing-workshop.
Night Time
A day in the forest transforms into a vision of the world of happiness I sit on the cold, barren log. I feel lonely and separate; the air feels like cold water dripping down my throat. I sit there as quiet as a hawk flying through the sky. Rain starts to pour down on my face. The rain clouds my face, putting protective armor around me. I’m as lonely as a star sitting alone in the big skies. I look down at the mushrooms; they have grown big, and they are climbing up my legs and up my spine and tapping on my back and whispering, “Be safe.” They’re gone. I feel desperate, and I’m tired without any company, but then I remember the stories that my mom used to tell me. “Connect with the trees,” she said. “They will be your friends.” So that’s what I do, but I still feel tired at the end. I stand up and whisper goodbye to my friends. Then I leave the clearing. I see my friend walking and singing like nothing is wrong with the world, and I start to feel happy. My happiness vibrates from me to the stars and back again. But before I left to get to the world of happiness, I glanced back one more time to see my sit spot, the small clearing in the middle of the forest. My sit spot is surrounded by large trees and plants, a lot of blackberries, and two large logs in the middle of everything. We float up out of Earth and to the imaginary world, the world of happiness, rolling and spinning every once in a while. I think back to my sit spot; I think back to the mushrooms I imagined; I think back to the smell that I smelled. Mint. I smelled mint. I tasted salal and the smell of my mask. I heard the birds singing their song. I saw trees surrounding and protecting me. I felt a rough bark. The trees were like men protecting a palace. The rain was like words floating out of the trees. The stars were like little light bulbs, bobbing around the sky. And finally we got to the world of happiness and love. Our feet touched the ground, and a group of people was walking toward us. We looked around. We were surrounded by nature on all sides. There was a large castle in the middle, and rufous hummingbirds were circling everyone. They had long beaks and coconut chests. They were beautiful! They looked like bubbles protecting their castle. They also had tiny feet in the world, stiff and fat. We smiled and drifted up to the castle. We were happy together. Maayan Mardiks-Rappaport, 10Bellevue, WA
Droplets
Panasonic Lumix DC-ZS200 Sage Millen, 13Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
My Bright Day
A fantastical encounter with light The Flower in Space I loved light. Even the sun wasn’t bright enough. When I was chasing a firefly into the woods, I found a tree hollow. Light seemed to be coming out of the tree hollow. It said, “I can take you wherever you want.” I said, “Outer space!” I was in outer space! I saw shining gold. I collected as much gold as I could. It was like a gold rush. I went back to Earth. I gave the gold to my friend because she’s scared of the dark. Now the light was finally bright enough. Ellen Wu, 7Knoxville, TN Leticia Cheng, 9San Jose, CA
The Flower in Space
Pastel Leticia Cheng, 9San Jose, CA