If I were the dog, at Thanksgiving I would say:
That chopped liver smells good.
I hope they drop some turkey.
I want to taste that.
I think I see dessert.
This is so noisy.
When is it going to be over?
I think I like everything here.
I will just jump on the table.
Ooooooooh cake.
I can fly like a bird. Whee!
I am invincible like a zombie.
Splat! Sorry about that.
Darn, that was strawberry icing.
By Benjamin, 2nd grade
To play or not to play, that is the question.
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
the dying and losing on the same level
over and over again and the frustration
of the “Game Over” voice that comes on
when you lose all your lives, or taking
a controller, coming down and finishing it.
To restart, perchance to succeed—ah,
there’s the kick, for in that beating of the level,
what may come when we have beat
the M-rated violent level must
give us pause—there is the respect
of the cheesy graphics.
By Nikolas
Photo by Mykl Roventine via Flickr
Image via Wikipedia
On a sunny savannah land,
A giraffe has a friend,
One big fat hippo,
Both sit down in the sun that glows.
Exhausted and tired, from playing all around,
The giraffe stands up and hears a soft sound,
It goes to the jungle, and into the trees,
And now the giraffe must leave to see.
He follows the sound,
And looks all around,
But now, uh oh, he’s lost in the trees,
Now in the jungle; it’s too dark to see.
The lost giraffe must find his way out,
But first he must know what the sound is about,
He looks high and low, but no luck here,
The sound, hooray! It’s back in his ear!
Now the lost giraffe knows, the sound is a hiss!
He might have had an idea of what it is,
A slithery figure comes at his feet,
The lost giraffe sees he has to flee.
After realizing he’s gone,
The big hippo knows something’s wrong,
For the giraffe is missing,
Because he had heard the hissing.
The hippo told the giraffe’s parents,
And they stopped running their errands,
They can’t find him, oh how sad can they be,
The giraffe was missing, and nowhere to be seen.
The lost giraffe ran with all his might,
But now, hoorah! He sees a dim light,
The lost giraffe is happy again,
He thinks, he will, he knows, he can!
The lost giraffe saw his home,
And saw his father, who had let out a groan,
The lost giraffe was lost no more,
He let out a mighty, happy roar.
The found giraffe had a party in his savannah,
There were lots of balloons and a big piñata,
The found giraffe was very happy,
He had lots of fun with his friends and family.
By Alejandro, 5th Grade
Across the seas, above the trees,
Beyond the fields of daffodils,
Clinging to walls, sitting on dolls,
Diving down drains, do bugs have brains?
Eating some crumbs on top of drums,
Finding their dates in other states,
Gliding through air to trick the bear,
Hopping off trains, do bugs have brains?
Icing from cake, ready to take,
Jumping on beds, land on their heads,
Kicking the door, looking at them soar,
Leaping to grains, do bugs have brains?
Making messes, wearing dresses,
Naps in flowers, why take showers,
Opening cans with rubber bands,
Plummeting rains, do bugs have brains?
Quiet at night, almost, not quite,
Reading a book, tucked in a nook,
Swing from a vine, won’t that be fine,
Tripping on cranes, do bugs have brains?
Under the sun, look at them run,
Vying for love from up above,
Waiting for lunch, hearing the crunch,
X-tra back pains, do bugs have brains?
You won’t believe what they achieve,
Zapping through plains, bugs DON’T have brains!
By Jennifer, 12th Grade
Photo by Phil Hilfiker via Flickr
I know that you think that it is hotter in Houston than anywhere, but I am so glad that I didn’t go to Sofia Bulgaria because the mayor is telling the cities of the city to stay in because it is so hot. It is 31 degrees in Moscow. That is hot, hotter than it has been for a long time and headed towards 35 maybe. Still, this is no doubt great for the fields of sunflowers, the hay drying in the fields or on the hay trucks that one passes. How do you pass a hay-truck, you city guys? The answer is “carefully.”
No doubt the plums and pomegranates will still be fine and the ancient monasteries in the lowlands will still be there as well as the Moslem retreats near Tetovo that I discussed two years ago. It’s just mid-July and the hay is already ready in the fields. Old houses made of well-fitted stones decorate the landscape along with Byzantine-Roman forms. Old Tetovo is near the old library on the mountain side, but we are in new Tetovo with the children discussing Japanese forms (in language that must be translated into Albanian) in Macedonia. And then at the end of the day, when the children leave the camp, I walk into the waning heat and head back to my hotel and the notebooks.
Merrilee Cunningham, WITS Writer to the Balkans (which actually means mountains)
During the WITS Summer Creative Writing Workshops held June 7 – June 25th, students from Charlotte Schneider and Mischa Enos’ third and fourth graders wrote poems about the sun and heat, expressing their strong feelings about Houston’s unique summer climate. You can feel the mercury rise with each word!
Summer Sun
The Heat is very hot and scorching,
causing drought and sweat.
Weeds and caterpillar grass are
drooping and then dying.
It is so hot!
You are playing around
and not caring about us!
By Olivia
Heat
Heat, heat
it is moist.
Sweating, sweating,
It makes you hot.
By Ryan
Dear Sun
O sun, your heat disappoints many.
Instead of singing, the birds
Are probably just yelling at you.
O sun, my skin is blazing in flames.
I get sunburns, so even inside,
I blaze in flames.
O sun, you make me tired and thirsty.
And don’t even get started on my eyes -
They burn and get tired of squinting
and blinking quickly.
O sun, black must be your favorite color.
No wonder you burn us!
By Grace
(Photo by Dan E. Johnson via Flickr)
Advice on Conducting Oneself, or Views On Natalie’s Future,
From People Who Eat Snacks and Play with Rolly Pollies at the Same Time
By the Kindergarten and First Grade Students
Eat breakfast first thing. Because your stomach
needs to have something. If you have leftovers
in your stomach, you’ll throw up.
Eat Toaster Strudel for breakfast. Every day.
On Saturday morning, eat oatmeal or Honey Sunrise.
Then watch “Oprah” because you learn facts
about other people and all different kinds of stuff.
Read The Omnivore’s Dilemma.
When your food is in your mouth,
don’t talk, or you might spit on someone.
(Actually, when you talk, you are spitting.
In fact, the “p” gives off the most spit.)
If you have a hammer, hammer nails.
Don’t hammer yourself. The worst place
would be on a scrape that’s already there.
If the copy machine breaks, don’t tell anybody.
If you get a flat tire, push your car
to the mechanic and get a new tire.
If you have kids, make sure they have food.
Watch and make sure nothing goes wrong.
You should have a super-duper big house.
You’ll know it’s time to get married
when you’re twenty. Or fifteen.
Listen to the teacher. Be quiet. Do your work.
Take Aleve for headaches.
Be fun.
Too much TV burns your eyes.
Wear pajamas to bed. Unless you’re a pirate.
Don’t be a pirate.
Don’t let children bother you.
Don’t fight or you gotta go to the police.
Don’t answer the phone or text while driving.
Don’t be a housekeeper.
Don’t be a lawyer because you have to walk around in a suit.
(Be an art teacher.)
Don’t draw on your hand.
Don’t leave.
Group poem by Kindergarten and First Grade Students
Photo by Ann via Flickr
The Aurora Picture Show hosts the Story Pirates this weekend with a live interactive performance and video presentation on May 1st and a special creative writing workshop May 2nd. Story Pirates lets kids see their own words come to life on stage. To RSVP and purchase tickets, visit their website.
You’re ready for
school but you still
have 30 more minutes
left so you lie down
on the couch or sit.
It is the longest
30 minutes of your life.
Monday morning
is like homemade
play dough – you don’t
really know what
to do with it and
it takes forever
to wash off.
By Philip, 4th grade
[photo by ktragirl via flickr]
Originally published on May 18, 2009
This poem is featured as part of the 2009 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.
I am going to be a cowgirl. Cowgirls can ride on their horses. A cowgirl saw a cowboy. A cowboy saw a cowgirl. A cowboy can ride on horses. A cowgirl can climb a tree. A cowgirl can rope a horse. A cowgirl wears boots and all that. A cowgirl looks pretty. A cowgirl has a rope. I can rope a cowboy.
By Mia, 1st grade
[photo by trobertabq via flickr]
There were nothing
but puppies at
the nail salon
getting their nails
done in pink nail polish
while their moms and dads
were at the dog park
but they wouldn’t play
thinking it was unfair
that their children
got to look all nice
and they didn’t.
By Allana, 4th grade
[photo by Cathy via flickr]
Mini-mice mounting the mad
manta-rays mopping the moon.
They look at machinery,
picking up mysterious metal messages
in bottles, maybe from Martians!
by Lewis, 3rd grade
illustration from “Tillie and the Wall” by Leo Lionni
To
be
me
okay
come
go
out
stop
in
don’t
go
out
boy
girl
men
women
flower
rose
dirt
deaf
bye
go
and
don’t
come
back
By Angela, 7th grade
[photo by bad music laine via flickr]
Pineapple Man and Screaming Pancake are super heroes that fly all around the world. They read a newspaper article of a Giant Bee attacking New York City. Pineapple Man and Screaming Pancake flew to the rescue and it only took them two seconds to get there. They found the bee and measured it. It was 42 feet long! The people of New York stayed inside for nine weeks. “Look!” said Billy Bob Joe, a fat man with a bushy beard. “It’s Pineapple Man and Screaming Pancake!” The super heroes made the Giant Bee fly over the ocean. When the bee flew over the ocean Screaming Pancake poured syrup under his wings. The giant bee’s wings got stuck to his body. He fell into the ocean and drowned. The whole crowd screamed, “Hooray!” They went outside to play and were so happy that they had a giant party.
By Vijay, 3rd grade
[photo by agilitynut via flickr]
Suspense is always exciting,
he is never boring.
He sleeps in a water bed.
He loves skydiving,
and scary rides at carnivals.
He looks like an ordinary man,
slicked back, black hair,
neon colored shorts and shirts
which depends on his mood.
He always uses onomatopoeia.
People always say he is crazy,
but really he just does fun things in life.
He acts like a balloon, you will never
know when he will pop.
He wants everybody to just have fun.
By Omar 6th grade
[photo by viennamarie1977 via flickr]
