poem

My Dream, a poem by Skylar, 5

Skylar Chen, 5 (Knoxville, TN) My Dream Skylar Chen, 5 I had a dream. In my dream, I got on a swing. When I flew up to sky, I saw a wonderful sight. I heard birds chirping, I felt wind blowing my hair, I smelt fresh grass. I wish I could erase coronavirus from our world.

Saturday Newsletter: April 23, 2022

Stable (oil) By Savannah Chun, 13 (Dallas, TX), published in Stone Soup April 2022 A note from Tayleigh Happy First-Day-of-Spring-Session-Writing-Workshops! Our first Writing Workshop of the spring session—William Rubel’s—begins this morning at 9 AM Pacific, to be followed by Conner Bassett’s at 11 AM Pacific. Today is especially exciting for me because for the first time, I will be joining William’s workshop as an assistant! I can’t wait to meet all who have signed up. But, even if you’ve missed the first class, it’s not too late. William and Conner discuss different elements of writing each week, and you’re welcome to join at any point during the season. You’re also welcome to write to me at tayleigh@stonesoup.com if you’d like to test out a class before purchasing tickets, or if you’d like to apply for a scholarship. You can sign up for both of these classes, as well as Book Club with Maya Mahony, using the blue button, below. A week from today, Maya will lead the first Book Club for Writers of the spring session and discuss A Wish in the Dark by Christina Soontornvat. This Book Club is a fantastic way to meet fellow bibliophiles. Today, I’d like to highlight a poem from our April issue: “Wild” by Rex Huang. “Welcome to our birdbath,” he writes. The following stanza meditatively focuses on the little world that exists inside the birdbath. To me, it’s a reminder to slow down, to focus on the beauty that is right in our backyards. Of course, panoramic vistas are breathtaking, but so is something as simple as a “crimson red leaf” floating, falling into a birdbath. “And it’s the little things, That make the world.” Savannah Chun’s The Stable similarly captures the beauty of the mundane. It is just a stable, and yet it is more. The way the light hits the tops of the eaves, the tree’s shadow that seems to almost dance in the wind. It is just a stable, but it is beautiful. For a moment, I’m not focused on a deadline or that item on my to-do list I haven’t yet crossed off; I am only focused on the serenity that exists inside that little world inside the painting, the poem, or in my own tiny apartment as the afternoon sun streams in and illuminates the wall. Until next time, From Stone Soup April 2022 Wild By Rex Huang, 11 (Lake Oswego, OR) What one may miss once Will never miss twice There’s always new New plant New wind New ant hole And it’s the little things That make the world Welcome to our birdbath A crimson red leaf Is shed from a tree Drifting slowly Slowly Slowly Into the crystal-clear reflection of the water Only disturbed by the ancient moss That lives there Spring is coming New is coming …/MORE Stone Soup is published by Children’s Art Foundation-Stone Soup Inc., a 501(c)(3) educational nonprofit organization registered in the United States of America, EIN: 23-7317498. Stone Soup’s advisors: Abby Austin, Mike Axelrod, Annabelle Baird, Jem Burch, Evelyn Chen, Juliet Fraser, Zoe Hall, Montanna Harling, Alicia & Joe Havilland, Lara Katz, Rebecca Kilroy, Christine Leishman, Julie Minnis, Jessica Opolko, Tara Prakash, Denise Prata, Logan Roberts, Emily Tarco, Rebecca Ramos Velasquez, Susan Wilky.

Covid Memories, a poem by Nishka, 10

Nishka Budalakoti, 10 (Foster City, CA) Covid Memories Nishka Budalakoti, 10 I’ve been as confused As a dog who chased It’s tail and caught it I’ve been as angry As a crocodile Who just couldn’t catch A meek little mouse I’ve been as nervous As a small chipmunk In a group of bulls And yet I’ve been as Patient as a spider Waiting on its web And I’ve stood as tall As a giraffe in The African heat And yet I’ve been kind Even though I feel Like a cat who has Been woken from her nap When it is morning And yes, things have gone Wrong, yes, things have Changed, but still, but still, I am still the same Because even though We might forget the Normal times when we’re Old, we will never Forget the different Times, never, ever ever. What doesn’t kill you Makes you stronger, but Also makes the best Memories of all. The featured image for this piece was taken by BlueJay and accompanied her poem “Wild.”