Category Archives: ode

Ode to Monday Morning

dough by ktragirlYou’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

apad2This 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.

Ode to Christine the Trombone

Lying in her padded home
she blissfully waits and sleeps.
Surrounded by rags and grease,
she dreams of high B flats.

She awakens to blinding light
and just like a teenager
pleads to sleep some more.
But taken from her padded house and grease and rags
she comes fluidly together.

A few warm ups to stretch the toes
and get her blood flowing.
She wakes up
Like a teacher who’s had her morning cup of coffee.

Notes spin
and weave
and run cleverly up and down the staff.
She knows she can play it all
if only this girl who makes her sing
would practice a little more often.

Christine is a teacher.
She’s taught this girl many things.
How to be patient
gentle
diligent
and just a bit rowdy
to know when to laugh
to know when to cry
to know when to leap
and when to fall.

By Emalie, 11th grade
[photo by leandre ouvreture via flickr]

Rojo que te quiero rojo (Red, I Love You, Red)

Rojo el agua salpicando rojo en las hojas
Rojo el cielo
Roja la luz
Rojo los animales
Rojo el tronco sobre el suelo y las hojas sobre los árboles
Rojo, que te quiero, Rojo
Roja la sangre
Rojo el mar
Rojo el pájaro sobre el árbol
Rojo el corazón en el cuerpo con fuego ardiendo
Rojo, que te quiero, Rojo
Rojo los ruidos
Rojas mis lágrimas
Rojo el mundo sobre el espacio
~
Red, the water sprinkling on the leaves
Red, the sky
Red, the light
Red, the animals
Red, the tree trunk on the ground and the leaves around the trees
Red, I love you, Red
Red blood
The red sea
Red is the bird perched on the tree
Red is the heart in the body blazing on fire
Red, I love you, Red
Red noises
Red, my tears
Red, the earth suspended in space

By Jakeline, 3rd grade
[photo by komarovart via flickr]

Ode to Chairs

I can build a tent with a chair.
My brothers, sisters, and I build it together.
There are chairs on my porch that I color on.
I put books on chairs when I study.
You can put a chair by the door to keep it open.
I can also stand on a chair to reach the cookies,
or I can just sit in my room on my favorite red chair.
its a red chair by beeep
By Brie, 2nd grade
[photo by beep via flickr]

Ode to a Pond

Turtle Meeting, Turtle Pond by sweetpea11215Ode to the
wise old turtles
with their dark
red stripes, ducking
their heads; to the
green tadpoles wiggling
their see-through tails,
trying to swim;
to the bright orange
fish, splashing away
from the fluffy baby
ducks, cute and curious.
Their feathers white
as snow floating to
the ground as they
eat fuzzy green moss.

By Kat, 5th grade
[photo by sweetpea11215 via flickr]

Ode to a Rose

red-rose-by-ian-lambert

The flaming red
flower with a healthy
stem spreads love and
passion throughout
the world, until the
cold winter comes and
takes the love and
passion away. As the
flower droops more and
more, the leaves fall and
the flower rots. But first,
the flower spreads its seeds
blown by the wind,
so there will be more
passion and love to
do the same thing,
again and again.

By Austin, 3rd grade
[photo by Ian lambert via flickr]

Ode to My Feet

two-lil-feet-by-qatarmeOh feet,
without you
there would
only be stumpcovers.
Without you
we would all
be in wheelchairs.
Oh feet why
won’t you smell better?
Oh why are you
so big I trip
on all my sister’s toys?
Without you
I couldn’t stand
up to turn on
the TV. Without
you, I couldn’t
kick my sister
in the pants
when she
deserves it.

By Raymond, 6th grade
[photo by Qatar&Me via flickr]

A Mis Orejas (To My Ears)

Mis orejas son muy importantes porque si no las tuviera no escucharía a la maestra o al maestro. Cuando es invierno mis orejas se ponen bien frías, y no escucho a mi mamá decirme cuando me quiere. En verano, mis orejas se calientan y puedo ponerle aretes. A las orejas las tenemos que limpiar. Me gustan mis orejas, me divierto con ellas. Con mis orejas, oigo mi música favorite, y en el invierno les pongo orejeras. Me duelen mis orejas cuando me las estiro. Con mis orejas oigo el canto de los pájaros, y el sonido del viento cuando golpea el cielo. Con mis orejas oigo el murmullo del mar y los delfines que atraviesan las olas.
Ear listening
Translation:

My ears are very important because they allow me to listen to my mom and my teacher. When the winter comes, my ears get cold so that I can’t hear my mother telling me how much she loves me. During the summer, my ears are warm, and I can wear different kinds of earrings. During the winter, I cover my ears under a comfortable hat. We need to clean our ears very often. I like my ears a lot, and they look good on me. Thanks to my ears, I listen to my favorite music. Thanks to my ears, I listen to the birds singing in a tree and the sound of the wind hitting the sky. Thanks to my ears, I listen to the ocean’s whisper and the dolphins’ laughter breaking through the waves. When I pull my ears down, I feel a little pain.

By Yesenia, 3rd grade
[photo by julipan via flickr]

Ode to Trees

cjewing2

The sweet scent of nature overshadows
the rough bark and smooth leaves of the trees,
the wind dancing with them as they glide gracefully among the dirt,
whispering lost stories to each other that were passed on to them from the great ancient one.
The trees, some tall some little, all gathering together as one family
These long, brown, and old beings resting
and providing homes and protecting the many animals living in them.
The trees give us all something – a box, a chair, even a house
but never ask anything back.

By Meera, 5th grade
[photo by cjewing2 via flickr]

Ode to the Color Black

In darkness,
beauty ebony
rises,
envelops all. Cold,
warm nothing.
Infinite pools
holding
infinite thoughts, deep
and hidden. Blackness
is the only one
with the power to
hold memories, to
induce forgetfulness.

Every person
has
two caches of
blackness. They are
your eyes. You see
with black
holes, pools, wells
of meaning,
meaninglessness.
Black means
print on paper,
pupils,
emptiness,
nothing. But black
has turned bitter. The world
believes black
is a
horrible color.
Black hearts
are full of cruelty.
Black cats
bring bad luck.
But black
is beautiful. Black
is eternal.

by Maya, 7th grade

[painting by Mark Rothko]