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When it’s dusk, I really must
Know your secret, dusk
When I say I must, I have to know!
You’re really great. You put on a show.
How do you make those lights shine bright?
How do you make those colors not shy? I would really like to try.
How do you make those colors glow? I really ought to know.
What I want to know most is something new
Something no one has ever asked you
How do you get so beautiful?
When it’s dusk, I really must
Know your secret, dusk.
When I say I must, I have to know.
You really do put on a show.

Paul is a kind and intensely curious boy whose intelligence and creativity find an outlet in writing poetry. He spends much of his time pursuing outside interests such as martial arts, piano, and performing in plays. Paul is a loving son and he enjoys playing with his friends and younger siblings. This poem came from a workshop from Mrs. Strong’s Third Grade Class at Neeta Elementary School.

Baseball, baseball is the sport I play

I play, I play, I play all day

I like to dive

I like to slide

I like to run from side to side

Most of all, I like to hit

I like to hit and I like to spit

I like to spit the seeds I bit!

I like to catch

I like to fetch

I like to fetch what I’m supposed to catch!

I like the games I play in

I like the hotels I stay in

We love to laugh

We love to play

But when it’s time to compete, we’re on our feet!

It’s great to steal, plus a really big deal

Over the stands we see waving hands

We listen to the “Star Spangled Banner,” being sure to mind our manners

We have our heads held up high, like the blue, cloudy sky

We love having support for our most favorite sport.

 

 

Luke Anderson loves baseball and has three siblings. He plays travel soccer and baseball. In his free time he likes to hang out with his friends and he loves pizza! He’s in third grade, and his favorite color is blue. This poem came from a workshop from Mrs. Strong’s Third Grade Class at Neeta Elementary School.

Fall
In fall leaves change color and start to fall
We play football, soccer, and go back to school
We like to go on hayrides, tractors, and sit by bonfires at night
People decorate for Halloween
Our town is filled with pumpkins, vampires, ghosts, and trick-or-treaters
Fall is windy and we feel the cool breezes
At Thanksgiving we like to eat turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes
We can smell turkeys roasting and pies baking as we sit with our families by the fireplace
Fall is awesome!

Winter 
The soft, moist, cold snow falls from the clouds
We sled, have snowball fights, and make snowmen
We put on our hats, coats, and gloves to ice-skate on the frozen lakes
We smell cookies baking and hot fireplaces
We wait for Santa to bring presents by our green, decorated Christmas trees
We drink hot cocoa with marshmallows on cold winter days!

Spring 
Spring is rainy, warm, sunny, and fun!
Baby animals begin to be born
We see squirrels, birds, and baby rabbits
We like to play baseball and basketball
The flowers and trees start to bloom
We pick strawberries, cherries, and flowers for our moms on Mother’s Day
We like to eat ice cream, strawberries, and water ice
On Easter, we find eggs and eat candy
Spring means that school is almost over
Spring is really cool!

Summer 
Summer is hot and sunny
We like to play baseball, soccer, lacrosse, and hockey
We swim at the beach and play in the sand
The ocean is blue, wet, cool, and filled with waves
We make sandcastles and find seashells in the hot, hot sand
On the 4th of July we see flashing, bright, rainbow-colored fireworks in the black night sky
We love to eat ice cream on hot sunny days
At night we cheer for the Phillies and cool off in the pool.
Summer is the best!

I erase all but the perfect few
To Technicolor tempers once consuming my page:
I’m glad I don’t remember you.

Silhouettes etched, every rainbow hue,
My illegible nomads exit left of the stage—
I erase all but the perfect few.

Author’s lost purpose tilts appeals askew,
Prostrate imperfections wipe clean with rage—
I’m glad I don’t remember you.

Your written life I misconstrued,
And ignored your pleas for unbounded age—
I erase all but the perfect few.

I colored yellow to replace your blue,
A happy release from white paper cage—
I’m glad I don’t remember you.

I rewrote before you grew
As only the acceptable survive editing’s outrage.
I erase all but the perfect few,
And I’m glad I don’t remember you.

Tree branches swinging
Gently on a summer wind
Birds spread their small wings

The water reflects
A beautiful scene for boats
Floating down the stream

The sun shines brightly
Down on passersby smiling
A radiant beam

What a wonderful
Day to be out on a stream
Letting it carry

You to a new place
So you can see the beauty
and wish to be new.

 

A house isn’t a house without
land to build it on. And land isn’t land
without the seeds that for grass or
the cement mixtures that pave the ground,
and even those begin differently.
Basically all things have a start and a
finish. Grass, humans, houses, and even the
beginnings of that thing can’t be
born without a fresh space to grow
and form. From the chairs we sit upon
to the steps we walk amongst, everywhere
everything has begun small. So don’t
feel worthless when you’re young because
small things turn into great ones.
You can’t be big until you’ve been small.
New beginnings.

Calmly rest my child
Momma says
The guests will be here soon
So get dressed and tame
your wild hair
Stop sitting on the edge of
your seat minding grown folks’
business
You need patience
When someone wants you
listening they’ll ask for you sure
Don’t be a fly on the wall
A friend for you is right
around the corner I promise
As I always say patience is
the key
Keep it calm it’ll be easy

 

 

Bombs fall,
the earth crumbles beneath our feet.
Everything we have turns to ashes,
not even at home… are we ever safe.
Stuck
in the wrath
of their disgrace,
it’s hard to even know who we are sometimes
because all we ever do is hide.

Hidden
in the old brick buildings we call Church,
protected by the Almighty we believe in,
that we think keeps us safe
yet also crumbles on impact.
We are lost,
all in the smoke and ashes of memories…
not forgotten,
the awful truth that leaves a brutal scar.

We think we have each other
but it’s just a film of betrayal,
that keeps sliding through our grasp,
something we can’t control.

It leaves us with nothing but hope.
Hope is something that can only be broken by words,
horrible things said,
we retreat back to the place in our soul,
all hollow and dim,
we go back to the churches
crumbling on us.

It’s just a cycle going round and round.
the war stops…
we still have nothing…
some without lives,
and all it leaves are the mental scars
that we,
will never lose.

Sit at the head of the table,
where the eldest sits,
where all fights start,
where they end,
where you spend your life,
where you recite grace,
where so many bottoms have sat,
where unwritten history is made,
where generations change,
religions change,
where the chair won’t forget you,
or judge you,
but miss you when you’re gone,
when nobody else will.

 

Serenity Baruzzini is a precocious 6th grader enrolled at Mastery Charter. She is drawn to poetry but has written a number of short stories as well and hopes to write a novel about a young spy.

The pungent smell of cigarettes inflames her nose
She wants to turn around and run
Run far away until the blinking lights are no longer visible
But she hears mama’s voice telling her it’s all right to stay

So she walks to the end of the bar
With every step she takes in her six-inch heels comes the threat of falling
But mama said not to worry
She’d get used to them in no time

Taking a seat at the bar, she looks around
She can’t help but stare at all the lowlifes;
She can’t help thinking she is one

The bartender interrupts her train of thought, asks her what she’d like
She whispers the words,
“A beer, please”
The bartender just laughs, slams the glass down in front of her
The first sip makes her wrinkle her nose in disgust
But mama said not to worry
She’d get used to the taste in no time

So she keeps drinking
The bitter taste gets less and less with each sip
The empty glasses begin piling up in front of her
She feels eyes on her
Eventually those eyes become a man walking towards her
She can’t help but feel nervous
But mama said not to worry
Nothing bad would ever happen to her

Soon enough, the man’s pulling her away from the cigarette smell and the blinking lights
Her morals fight him off
But her hands give in

She’s awakened by the sunlight of a new day
Looking around the empty motel room, she sees her clothes lying everywhere
And notices hundred dollar bills lying on the nightstand
She frantically tries to piece together the night

But mama said not to worry
Everyone remembers their first