Going to my Grandparents’ House

Posted December 29, 2013 & filed under Notebook.

Going into my grandparents’ house,
seeing the flower bed worked on
and the peach trees watered,
the greetings of loved ones.
Walking into a house of smells,
smells of different food being prepared
and the language unknown to me but still beautiful,
the bowl of fresh beans.
Walking outside to the dogs full of joy,
my grandmother hanging the clothes
as the breeze comes along,
seeing my grandfather relaxing on a rocking chair,
seeing the little ones getting eggs from the pens
and picking from the garden,
watching tractors go by daily as we ride them,
the guns shooting in the clear open sky.
The night comes as we come together
around a fire that we surround,
Watching the stars shoot by as we end our day.
by Jonathan, 10th grade

Variations on Improvisations of My Grandfather

Posted June 29, 2010 & filed under Notebook.

 

H – like a fire, raging up to the top of
a tree, charring all in its way.
Or two boxes, open on one end. Or
maybe two open boxes on fire in a tree?
E – a camera flashing shots of something
worth remembering. Or a dog with
red eyes, favoring the number four.
N – upside down U, spinning on one
axis, no one can tell what it is.
A sharp stab of a needle piercing the skin,
but green with rust.
R – a strange letter, but always busy
working away at something important,
like my dad, dangerous and confident.
Y – an undecided letter, it morphs into
two categories. A building made of stone,
but oversaturated in hue, turning it blue. Or
it could be a tree, a pine sapling,
lost in an overcrowded forest.

By James, 7th grade
Photo by Sea Moon via Flickr