I Don’t Write for a Good Grade

Posted August 14, 2014 & filed under Poem, Student Writing.


I write to convince you to make a change

I write to amuse myself

I write to disturb the peace

I write to entertain the masses

I write to surprise you with new insights

I write to trigger the imagination


By Prieta, 7th grade

I’m Hiding

Posted August 8, 2014 & filed under Poem, Student Writing.

I’m not hiding from the war in the temple,

not even in the desert with animals.

I’m nowhere to be found.

I’m not with the parakeet,

not with the fuzzy bears dancing.

I’m in the box with the

one beautiful cup.


by Carlos, 3rd Grade

What I See

Posted July 16, 2014 & filed under Notebook, Poem, Student Writing.

I see a reader
Lost in her books
Her dreams of fantasy come and go
You see a writer
Stubborn with her ideas
Pretending magic is real
We see a girl
Surrounded in words
Telling her story

by Katie, 1st grade


Posted July 14, 2014 & filed under Poem, Student Writing.


You’re wondering if I’m nervous:
OK then, yes, I am nervous,
like dogs before their trip to the vet,
excited at first.
Then they realize what’s going on.

Am I nervous?
Like during a bad storm,
I am nervous.
The thunder and the wind
and somewhat the lightning.
It depends on the lightning.

If I’m nervous,
it must be the nervousness of getting poked
over and over again,
of waiting
for the constant blood draws.
My veins are so small.

My nerves pass
once the storm passes,
and the rain stops.
It’s all better.

by Halle, 5th Grade

The Mysterious Box

Posted July 2, 2014 & filed under Poem, Student Writing.

In my box, I place
the smell of the air on a summer breeze,
the sound of wolves during a full moon,
the first star in outer space,
the anchor thrown off of a ship,
the first word of a baby,
the happiest moments you cannot take back.
In my box, I will place
the love I have for God,
limitless time,
perfect health for everyone.
In my box, I will place
lots of enchiladas
and the best parents.
In my box,
I hold the key,
the shiniest diamond ring,
no more hungry children,
and the crashing waves of the ocean.
In my box,
I hold the next greatest invention,
the one thing that controls animals.
I put in my box
the aroma of roses on a romantic night,
bubbles that never pop,
the sound of starving lions.
The lock is made of spiders,
so if you try to break in to my box,
you’ll get bitten.
The top is sparkly purple
with the movement of the live ocean,
and the sides are made of flowers, smelling like enchiladas.
It shines like the sun,
the bottom, shimmering gold.

by Daniela,10th Grade

Taste the Salt

Posted June 23, 2014 & filed under Poem, Student Writing.

In my neighborhood, I hear the sound of the train clashing along the tracks.
I hear my younger siblings fighting over my video games.
I hear cars whizzing around and the sound of my cousin’s truck pull up on the driveway.
In my neighborhood, I can smell the scent of waffles when I awake from a deep sleep.
I can smell freshly baked cherry pie that my mom makes after lunch and the scent of lavenders my grandmother planted weeks ago.
In my neighborhood, I can see the fences that shield the new town homes that were recently built during the last summer.
I can see many bikers and dog owners pass by my home to get to their destination.
In my neighborhood, I can taste the salt that drifted from my kitchen to my room through the air. I can taste the honey we spread over waffles in the morning.
In my neighborhood, I can feel isolation because everybody’s house is fenced off,
And I can feel the security of my home while I’m asleep at night.

by Raynaldo, 7th Grade


Posted June 18, 2014 & filed under Poem, Student Writing.

You are the sweet smell of roses.
You are Saturn.
You’re like a diamond.
You’re the kindness of a puppy.
You’re as sweet as a cupcake.
You’re like a shiny crystal.
You are like a beautiful garden.
Although you are not the blade of the knife.
You aren’t like the stinger of an ant.
You are not the fiery flames of a volcano.
You are not like a porcupine about to put a quill in someone.
You are the love of a kitten.
You are a fast shooting star.
Does it interest you to know who I am?
I am a raindrop about to fall.
I am also the breeze of the wind.
But don’t worry, you still are the sweet smell of roses.
You are always going to be my friend.

by Sarah, 2nd Grade

Ode to Swimming Goggles

Posted June 11, 2014 & filed under Poem, Student Writing.

The swimming goggles are
my eye’s main facility.
They are my eyes’. . .
and weapon.
They are my friend for
showing me the wonders of
the sea.
You can stretch them to fit
your head.
You don’t want to expand
them too much,
or they will snap and die.
They are my eye’s armor.
They protect my eyes from chlorine and salt.
They let me see without getting my eyes red and sore.
They are a weapon, a slingshot.
They are an extension of my head
and a part of me like a close relative.
They are like glasses that help me see underwater.
Soon they will invent contacts for water,
but I will still use goggles.
I still use them today.
They are my eyes’ closest friend.

By Michael, 5th grade

The Pond

Posted June 5, 2014 & filed under Poem, Student Writing.

Into the pond

Dragging weeds, fierce pain

He went under again

Thrashing arms wildly

Then lifted. Head from water

Gulped air into aching lungs

Strong arms

Dreamed his father was carrying him

He did not wonder

He knew

He could see over him

Unreal, dark faces.

Old man, boy.

Deep voice, gentle hands.


by Emily, 5th grade


Posted May 30, 2014 & filed under Poem, Student Writing.

The green bayou

chanting a song,

a lullaby, a Friday laugh


The sun’s truth is

freckles, life, and a

secret gift


The sky, the storm,

the flames, lightning

cartwheeling into my skin,

into my bones


Tomorrow a daughter is born

into the ocean

into the wind

they swallow hard


Tough, white snow falling

on the clear, fragile



Crowded is my pocket

with my



by Isabella, 4th grade

art by Paul Klee

I Am From

Posted May 28, 2014 & filed under Poem, Student Writing.

I am from the stories I tell,

a maple leaf,

our golden well.

I am from a happy place

where people are all around,

a funny laugh, a horse’s neigh,

the music’s healing sound.

I am from a hummingbird,

its little flapping wings,

I am from the big blue crow

that very rarely sings.

I am from a funny elf,

a tingling of the bell,

I am from a mystery,

the mystery, myself.


by Nine, 5th grade

photo by Ken Bondy via flickr


Posted May 27, 2014 & filed under Poem, Student Writing.

I walk in,

my father looking

numbly at the lit

computer screen,

the TV blaring

as my mother

watches the news,

which announces

death and money.

The window over

the sink pours

A gray light onto

our beige and unpainted

walls. I walk into

my room, passing

The sheetrock lying

in the hall, the dusty

spare room that used to

house my sister

until 18 swept her away.

Sunlight peaks through

my foiled window,

trying to escape.

I walk back to

the living room, sit

on the worn green couch

and watch the blaring

TV with my

mother and father.  

by Alicia, 10th Grade

Home Sweet Home 2004

Posted May 15, 2014 & filed under Poem, Student Writing.

You have come here to recall

all of your childhood.

Walk through the red steel door,

see a big loud TV and a once tall bar.

You hear a little cat run across the brown creaky floor,

into the hall you see the bright light.

Walk up to the big mirror you look and see,

the old you.


Smile to yourself feeling happy to be home once again.

Look to the end of the hall and see a towel

it’s wet and hanging to dry.

Walk into a room you once slept in,

look around to see sea turtles.

See silver shoes by the door so small,

walk across to the brown sofa in the room.

Close your eyes, breathe in and remember

the smell of the pink and black nail polish.


Open your eyes and everything that was

once there is gone,

you are left with nothing but the white

blank walls.


by Clarissa, 10th Grade