Photo by curlywurlygurly
There is a photo of me fishing with my grandpa,
standing by the water, throwing the rod,
cows eating grass behind us.
There is a photo of me talking to him,
surrounded by my family, smiling,
pictures of past generations on the wall.
There is a photo of me visiting him in the hospital.
He wanted to be in his own bed.
There is not a photo of me saying goodbye to him,
Grandpa lying on a bed,
eyes closed,
trying to sing an old song.
By Ramiro, 12th grade
_MG_4614 “Fire-Escape” (Photo credit: Michael Menard)
How to submit an entry
Bunte Leichtigkeit (Photo credit: Ela2007)
Someone is trying to explain and spread feelings out.
Red, blue, angry.
Black, red, happy.
Red, pink.
I see my dreams every time I wake up.
The sketches are still there in the morning.
They remind me of somebody I know.
It seems as if it was all real and golden.
Is it so?
It must be something haunting me from the past.
By Allenique, 3rd grade
Little Window-detail2 (Photo credit: rosedeniz)
In the dark-ish night, deep in the
city, the sunset made blue-ish, orange reflections
in the calm river. The boats were heading
to the nearby dock. The tree in the
field with the ruffled shadow became clear.
The smoke from the burning bridge fell to peace.
By Michelle Smith, 5th grade
Calligram by Guillaume Apollinaire. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
When a poet stares at time, everything stops.
When a poet loves, he freezes,
and his heart bursts open like an over-ripe banana.
When a poet thinks, he is so happy he will melt of happiness.
When a poet is angry, he will go crazy.
When a poet is sad, he will cry to death.
When a poet travels to a new land, he gets lost.
When a poet imagines, he sees himself as an astronaut
and then becomes one.
When a poet writes, he believes nothing is wrong
because he is at his best.
By Saadat Makki, 3rd grade
Airplanes Light Trails (Photo credit: JcOlivera.com)
Leaving land of lone star
of heat, humidity, and horses
on a huge white bird
over open ocean
in night’s ebony embrace
Out of the ominous
an amazing archipelago
the pearl of perfection
the majesty of mountains
home
By Samuel Samson-Williams, 7th grade
O
On Thursday, May 17th, at 7pm, Writers in the Schools (WITS) students will share their art-inspired creative writing at the Menil Collection. This reading, called The Watchful Eye, will feature stories, essays, and poems that come out of a collaborative project called Writing at the Menil. The event is free, and the public is welcome.
Roar! Roar! I hear the sound nearby. I see 10,000 black stripes. I am scared. “I am in India. I must watch out,” I say to myself. There is the sound again. Roar! Roar! Roar! I look back, then yell like crazy. There is an entire herd of tigers. They charge at me and are close on me. “Help! Help!” I yell. I run to a tree and scamper up it. Caw! Caw! I hear a crow who warns me of the tigers. I jump out of bed and look around. Phew!
By Sahana, 2nd grade
A red creature against a heavenly couple
An infinite space is the battlefield
A deadly war will take place
The people are good at protection
We don’t know the solution
I think the people will win
The rays will come with flowers
And the gods win
By Anirudh, 2nd grade
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Summer is coming. Have you made your plans? There are still spaces available in the Writers in the Schools (WITS) Program.
Who: Middle and High school students
What: Summer writing workshops
Where: Bellaire High School
When: June 11-29, 9 am -12 noon
Why: Because you have a story to tell
How: Click here to sign up today
In the Creative Writing Camp, you explore different literary genres (poetry, fiction, essay, drama) with friends. You learn about craft and revision in one-on-one conferences with published authors. Through multi-disciplinary projects combining text and art (such as painting, sculpture, or music), you will also find new ways to address a particular audience. At the end of the three weeks, you will publish your best work in an anthology and celebrate!
Click here to find out more from a Rice News story. This summer program is sponsored by Writers in the Schools (WITS) and Rice University’s School Literacy and Culture Project.
Space is very limited. Click here to enroll.
El mar inclinando en los ojos de mi mamá
Los ojos de mi mamá son azul como el agua.
Las olas son como la felicidad de ella.
La corriente es como su enojo.
Las rocas son la soledad.
(Translation)
My mother’s eyes are blue like the water.
The waves are her joy.
The current is her anger.
And the rocks are her solitude.
by Liliana, 2nd grade
Photo by BN catchesthelight via Flickr
“The Maple” by artist Mandy Budan
Students understand that poetry can serve as a kind a solace. Writing about a personal “paradise” puts these young poets in touch with the true meaning of home.
Yellow bulldozer. (Photo credit: MJ/TR (´･ω･))
I am yellow
a man who’s driving a bulldozer
an earthquake hitting the hard ground on earth
a crane with a ball that weighs 1 million tons
about to crash history
a light feeling coming from myself
I am blue
calm waves crashing
a quiet person walking
sprinkling rain falling to the ground
peaceful and quiet
I am red
lava coming from a volcano
the amber of a fire
the mad feeling of angriness
By Owen, 2nd grade
I’ve always been interested in music. One of my earliest memories was getting my first drum set. I was seven. My parents got it at a garage set, and as soon as I saw it, I was ready to start. I taught myself just by listening to music and then trying to play what I heard. When I was about 12, I started playing at school. I had to audition to play the drums. When I started, it was a lot more structured. Instead of teaching myself, I had others teaching me. I found out that I had developed some bad habits, but I still think the time I spent teaching myself was worthwhile. Over the next few years I kept improving. When I was 16, I joined a jazz band. It’s the hardest thing I’ve done so far. It’s a completely different style of playing, and it’s a lot harder. The only teacher I had was another kid. I love it. We play at the school and at competitions. I think you’re born into drumming. Only about 8% of the world has the brain capability to drum well. You have to be good at multi-tasking and being steady. In drumming the terminology is based on sound. For example, you might play a flamadiddle followed by a ratamacue. If you don’t have a good drummer, you can’t have a good band. I want music to continue to be a part of my life.
By Haden, 11th grade
Image by donnjmck via Flickr
If there is a cat on your head
scream
If there is a feather in your spaghetti
laugh
If there are ants in your pants
freak out
If there is love in your heart
pass it on.
By Johana, 4th grade
Click the link (above) to listen to the poem read on KPFT radio by Kathryn Chavez, a 4th grade student at Parker Elementary in Houston.
This poem is featured as part of the 2012 A Poem A Day campaign, a National Poetry Month celebration by Writers in the Schools (WITS) that features a different poem by a WITS student every day during April. Click here to learn more.
