Music is a River

Music is a river,
Ever flowing to my heart.

Music is a river,
Smooth and peaceful,
Lulling me to sleep.

Music is a river,
Burbling and giddy,
Making me smile.

Music is a river,
Running rapid,
Making me giggle.

Music is a river,
Dark and murky,
Making me sad.

Music is a river,
Thick and winding,
Making me wonder.


Immanuel Mykyta-Chomsky is 11 years old and attends The Philadelphia School. He also enjoys playing the piano and listening to operas. Immanuel wrote this poem because, “I love music and music makes me feel a lot of different things.

My Pal Shell

You sound like the waves crashing at the shore
You feel pointy as a sea urchin in the sea
You smell like a waffle cone
But…
I’m not going to taste you
My pal, Shell

Gavin Looram is a 3rd grader at Strawbridge Elementary in Haddon Township, NJ. He is 9 years old and has a brother, Graham, who is 7 and a sister, Sage, who is 5. He enjoys sports of all kinds and is currently playing outfield in the HTAA Little League Minors. He is an avid reader, an avowed carnivore, and is a huge fan of professional wrestling.

Baltimore Ravens

Joe Flacco is the best quarterback I know
he can really throw
he’s the best quarterback that I know.

Ray Rice is an awesome running back
he can get a touchdown in a single second
he’s the awesomest!

They can both throw
They’re on the Baltimore Ravens!
Better than any athlete I know!

Somewhere Beneath My Curled Toes

My heart was beating,
My lips quivering from the chill,
My bones aching,
My breath coming in uneven gulps,
And a single tear rolled off
my lower eyelash
and onto,
the tightly packed,
autumn cooled,
dirt.

It was done,
case closed,
over.
Her body,
Cold and still
And gone
Lay somewhere
beneath my curled toes.
Her cheerful green eyes,
dull deep in their sockets.
Her rosy cheeks,
turned white.
And her smile,
a peaceful grimace.
All somewhere beneath my curled toes.

One more life ended,
by the twists
and turns
of mother nature.
One less giggle
on our saddening earth.

And as the days turn to weeks
And those weeks into
months
and those months into years
I think,
Of those light pair of eyes
That giggle now a
far away whisper,
Now somewhere beneath my curled toes.

Those who say memories never fade,
But are never forgotten,
Must have never
Had someone
To
Forget.

For my brain finds itself loosening,
And the days I had spent
with her
erasing
so fragile
and easy
to forget
A soft fall to take.

That bright smile
now a shimmer
a reminder
of better
warmer
happier
Days.

Sometimes,
My feet wander back
to that spot
that place I last saw you,
some of the days
Come back
To me.

I wish that I could
have had,
A second chance
To say goodbye
To you,
For a brain that’s a loosening
can not seem to
Forget,
One thing
about you-

Your cheerful green eyes,
dull deep in their sockets.
Your rosy cheeks,
turned white.
Your her smile,
a peaceful grimace.
All somewhere beneath my curled toes.

 

 

Laura Haskin is in the eighth grade at the Masterman School. She enjoys painting, drawing, writing, and reading (of course).

Lullaby

The evening train came speeding by
So again she lightly perched, a seldom rest from winded fly
The regrets and sighs that fain be sung
Sang freely in her lullaby

The secrets that I with you share
Are your burdens to shamely bare

Dark and tearful music laid
For haunting were my youngest days

So lean your head in, quickly, close!
And hear my screeching lullaby

With eyes half shut
Looking sadly on
Where the land of dreams might lay
Wishing she could go again

Awaits she, the dawning day
And in this morning she shall stay
Awaiting
Awaiting
The end of the dawning day

So again she may perch
And sing in grief
Her screeching, moaning story time
Her sadly tragic lullaby

 

 

Marcela is in sixth grade and loves writing, basketball, volleyball and track.  She aspires to be on Broadway, in the Olympics or a poet and her special talents include hula-hooping, wiggling her ears and doing long jump.

The Skeleton Girl

She dances on her piano
with her skeleton toes
cobwebs covering her clothes,
she smiles.

Her bones quake.
She touches her wasted face,
slips on the yellowed lace
that covers her piano.

Her bloody lips grimace
as she pulls herself up.
She reaches for her martini cup
and swallows, then repeats.

The martini burns her throat,
makes her moan.
But no one hears her, she’s all alone
Just a haunted, eroding pile of bone.

The skeleton girl,
all alone in the world
loving nothing but her piano.

 

 

Juliette is a ninth grade student at Hallahan High School who enjoys writing and playing sports in her free time.

Notebooks of Poetry

And so she filled her notebooks with poetry
Trying to make sense of this world of lies
Burning her bridges—
Severing her ties
With anyone who double-crossed her

And so she filled her notebooks with poetry
Trying to get lost in a world of rhyme,
And looking for one with reason.
If she had the guts and if she had the time,
She’d open her eyes and find one.

And so she filled her notebooks with poetry
Because poetry was beer.
It made her toes tingle, her toes tingle,
Made her troubles disappear.
Full and happy was she, when drinking poetry.

And so she filled her notebooks with poetry
because it was a glue, a connection, a fusion
It was her prince charming, her salvation
To her problems there was always one solution—
To crawl into poetry and just be.

 

 

 

Juliette is a ninth grade student at Hallahan High School who enjoys writing and playing sports in her free time.

Duality of the Universal Solvent

Burning, freezing, melting, cold and hot and tepid,

                Rolling, falling, rising, rushing, pounding, dripping, slithering.

                                One drop is tiny, insignificant.

                Yet it is these drops that level stone, drown man and beast, and wear down mountains.

Always moving, completely placid.

                Life-giving, life-taking

                                The great and terrible beneficial destroyer.

                Colorless material of the rainbow.

Deep and shallow, it takes any shape but has none itself.

                Cloud and sky. lake and stream, man and ice and steam.

                                The river’s song, the melody of the pond sings and rushes and roars, gentle and powerful.

                Tsunami and rain droplet are the same, yet so very different.

Two-thirds of Earth’s surface, three-quarters of humanity.

This is the dichotomy of water.

Watching

I watch them everyday,
Never being seen nor heard

Like a million invisible flies on a wall

Doing nothing-only watching
Thinking…should I help?
it would save her from all the Hurt

But then,
will they come after ME?

should I tell someone?
Or
just turn the other way

Flies.

There are many flies out there
Just like me,
What do those flies do?
Do they continue watching…or…help?

Do I want to be a fly
Anymore?

They called her an ugly fat cow today
She looked at me then.

Silently,
Asking for.
No! begging for help

I was silent.
Silent as a snowflake in the Dead of night
not Breathing
only Seeing.

seeing the Dread
the Terror.

Not moving
Could I move?
Begging. that’s what she was doing
Begging without words
Her eyes screaming Help Me!
I didn’t move
I couldn’t move
Only stare-stare into her teary pain filled eyes

following her eyes
they saw me
what to do-what to do

I ran

ran as fast as I could
leaving
leaving her
leaving them.

All Alone

Taylor Kroll lives in Jenkintown, Pennsylvania and is in 10th grade.

Sand Color Shell

Oh shell,
You are the crown of a king
Feeling proud
On the king’s head
Your spikes are pointy
Like grabby starfish hands
Like the color of sand
You look like a sandstorm
Swirling
In action
You have a little opening
That is curled
Like a fruit roll up
Your swirly top is a mountain
You look like a footrest
So comfy
So warm
You’re so many wonderful things
Which one is your true identity?

 

 

Christina lives with her 3 sisters and her dog, Sami. She loves to dance and sing and play soccer and basketball.