Rain, Rain, Rain

Posted February 2, 2014 & filed under Notebook.

 

Rain, rain, rain

sprinkles down so softly

sounds like fingers

softly touching the stained glass windows

 

watch, watch, watch

the rain trickle down the window

 

run, run, run

out of the house to feel the rain slip down

my dark brown hair

 

but rain, rain, rain

what I love about rain

are the fingers it sets on my stained glass window sill.

By Ella, 3rd grade

Thoughts about Rain

Posted August 20, 2013 & filed under Notebook.

When it rains, I close my eyes.

I see all the colors it makes!

I listen to it tap my window.

But what if I didn’t have a house?

I’d be outside in the pouring rain!

It might be fun at first

to run and spin in the rain.

I’d feel it in my hair and on my cheeks.

But what if I didn’t have a house?

I couldn’t go back inside and get changed.

I’d just have to walk around in squishy clothes

and wait for the sun to come out.

By Stella, 4th grade

My First Memory of Rain

Posted July 10, 2013 & filed under Notebook.

When I tasted rain,

it tasted like the water

we drink when we run a lot

on the playground with friends.

When I heard the rain,

it sounded like coins.

It sounded like treasure.

When I saw the rain,

I saw my reflection.

I looked happy.

By Jennifer, 2nd grade

Photo by Impressions by Lindy via Flickr

Notes from a Writer at Creative Writing Camp

Posted June 27, 2012 & filed under Notebook.

Here are notes from Marcela Descalzi, who is teaching at one of the camp sites in the Montrose area.  Marcela shares about the “reign of kindness” that she and her teaching partner are experiencing in their classroom:

My writing partner Patty and I create community with “our” children. In 3 lightning weeks, we gather in the morning to celebrate writing. On our first day, we had asked the young writers to share values that helped build a community of kindness. Among words like respect, generosity and active listening, we were surprised to hear awareness. Our fourth graders were on a roll.

In our gathering circle of the morning, we share many of our own passions as we play Connections– a game that invites active listening and voicing moments and feelings from our day. It began to rain hard. When it was my turn, I said with a certain amount of enthusiasm, how much I loved the rain. Shortly after, as we introduced the Haiku, rain and thunder washed over our room. Submerged in the energy of rain anecdotes, I shared with them my attempt to capture feelings in a tiny bucket:

Love raindrops whipping

at the window sill

trying to get in

That same afternoon, over the bustle of goodbyes that mark the end our daily time together, one of our young poets dropped a folded paper into my hand. Ella left softly before I could ask her what she needed. I found this:

 

Rain, rain, rain

sprinkles down so softly

sounds like fingers

softly touching the stained glass windows

 

watch, watch, watch

the rain trickle down the window

 

run, run, run

out of the house to feel the rain slip down

my dark brown hair

 

but rain, rain, rain

what I love about rain

are the fingers it sets on my stained glass window sill.

 From that moment on, as Houston’s summer clouds offered water, many a young voice would herald the rain, just in case the adults in the room forgot to notice gifts of awareness sprinkling through.

A-washed with kindness

 within our community

of young WITS writers.

My First Memory of Rain

Posted December 5, 2011 & filed under Notebook.

When I tasted rain,

it tasted like the water

we drink when we run a lot

on the playground with friends.

When I heard the rain,

it sounded like coins.

It sounded like treasure.

When I saw the rain,

I saw my reflection.

I looked happy.

By Jennifer, 2nd grade

Photo by Impressions by Lindy via Flickr

Rain

Posted September 19, 2011 & filed under Notebook.

Plunk, plunk, plunkety, plunk

Rain falls on my window

Dink, dink, dinkety, dink

Rain hits my bike mirror

Plop, plop, plopety, plop

Rain drops on my umbrella

Splash, splash, splashety, splash

Rain drips on my dog’s head

Drip, drip, dripety, drip

Rain feels good on my skin

By Carly, age 8

Ode to Drizzling

Posted April 14, 2011 & filed under Poem of the Day.

Drizzle, you are
a salty block of ice,
a soapy bubble on the window.
I hear you
shattering like a glass vase.
I see you,
a hollow hallway.
You are a
soft, fresh breeze of leaves
falling on the hard, dull concrete.
People insult you,
saying you come to make kids
miserable because they can’t play.
If you never happened,
our plants would die
of thirst.
And if
it isn’t good for children to play in,
then I shall say to myself,
I love when it drizzles.
It feels so fresh.

by Fadila, 5th grade

Photo by johngarghan via Flickr

This poem is featured as part of the 2011 A Poem A Day campaign, a National Poetry Month celebration by WITS that features a different poem by a WITS student every day during April. Click on the logo to the left to learn more.

Me gusta la lluvia (I Like the Rain)

Posted March 2, 2010 & filed under Notebook.

A mí me gusta la lluvia porque
Tira agua bien fresca y
Tira agua para tomar
Bañarte… y cae en el
Río para tomar cualquier
Tiempo cuando tengamos sed

I like the rain because
it tosses down fresh water and
water to drink
you can take a bath… and it falls
into the river to drink when we are thirsty.

By Jesus, 3rd grade
[photo by Aunti p via flickr]

Raindrops

Posted September 10, 2009 & filed under Notebook.

 

Raindrops want to be balloons.
They fall down, but push themselves up.
But they do not succeed,
Like balls bouncing down, but never up.
Gray clouds turn sad with teardrops
Raining down.

By Ilana, 4th grade
[photo by Lord V via flickr]

Is It Rain?

Posted March 12, 2009 & filed under Notebook.

I asked the policemen
Is it rain? Is it rain?
They said no, but it’s raining
cats and dogs.

I asked the witch
Is it rain? Is it rain?
She said no, but it’s raining
meatballs.

I asked my teacher
Is it rain? Is it rain?
She said no, but it’s raining
forks and knives.

I asked the weatherman
Is it rain? Is it rain?
He said no, but it’s raining

men

all

day

long.

By Hee Soo, 3rd grade
[Photo is of the painting Golconde by Rene Magritte, 1953. The painting can be found at The Menil Collection in Houston.]

My Street

Posted April 26, 2008 & filed under Poem of the Day.

my-street.jpg

The evergreen trees are swaying in the wind.
It sounds like a hurricane will come.

A bird soars over my head and in a flash it’s gone.
A raindrop trickles down my back.

My dog slides past me, and I race to catch up to her.
Leaves crunch under her feet.

The footsteps of my sister sneaking up on me
get louder as she nears. Then silence, and I feel
her cold hands touching my neck.

By Lauren, age 8

(photo uploaded by Apevit via Flickr)

video = 32 seconds

Poetry

Posted April 7, 2008 & filed under Poem of the Day.

Rain falls down

umbrella-2.jpg

on the ground.

Wet!

Mommy carries her
kids under the
umbrella.

Dry!

By Sabre, age 5

[photo by LOlandesevolante via Flickr]