UpStarts Winter 2011

upstarts
...stirring up literary play in
youth and community
Volume Twenty, Issue Two
Winter Edition 2010
A Young Writer’s Association publication of Lane County Youth
YWA 2010-11 Creative Writing Contest:
FOOD
Young Writers Association is looking for imaginative writers of all ages to find a way to
include FOOD in original poetry or prose.
WHO: Ages 5-8, 9-10, 11-13, 14-18. We’re also taking
submissions from adults (age 19 and up), but please
remember this is for a mixed-age audience.
WHEN: Deadline postmarked February 1, 2011; Winners
notified by March 8, 2011
Winners receive prizes from local businesses, a free workshop with
current Oregon Poet Laureate, Paulann Petersen (http://paulann.
net), and are published in UpStarts, spring 2011. Winners also read
at the Glitterary Word Festival, April 30, the last Saturday in April, in
the Eugene Public Library. Mark your calendars now for this fun family
celebration of the writing art - YWA Glitterary Word Festival 2011!
Guidelines
RETURN SERVICE REQUESTED
Young Writers Association
P.O. Box 51538
Eugene, Oregon 97405
Nonprofit Organization
U.S. Postage
PAID
Permit No. 742
Eugene, Oregon 97401
• Have fun and use your imagination making sure FOOD is a significant
element in your story or poem. All writing genres welcome.
• Your entry should be less than 600 words, and no smaller than size
12 font if typed.
• Be sure to include name, age (not grade), home phone number &
address, as well as the school you attend. Adults need not put age, but
indicate that you are an adult writer.
• Keep a copy for yourself; we won’t be able to return your work.
• Send to YWA Contest, P.O. Box 51538, Eugene, OR 97405 or email:
[email protected]
Inspirations in literature:
• Peter Rabbit did not get his current bun or his blackberries, only chamomile tea
• In Harry Potter books, wizard food induces embarrassment, hilarity and great satisfaction
• Eating Turkish delight was Edmond’s downfall in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe
• Odysseus ate goat cheese in the Cyclops’ cave
• Elfin folk eat specialty food in the Tolkein books
• Demeter and the earth were never the same after her daughter ate tiny pomegranate
seeds
• In your favorite book, what food is eaten or prepared? What mood does it create?
Other Inspirations:
• Phrases: Eat your words-- A recipe for disaster— May the fork be with you-• Plot surprises: How might food complicate an adventure story, fantasy story or science
fiction tale?
Character development: How does the character eat? Fastidious-tidy? Methodicalabsentminded? Lip-smacking gusto?
• Emotion: food can add coziness to writing, or induce laughter in a comic tale or tall-tale.
Food description can be a tool to express wonder through lyrical prose or poetry.
• Sometimes writing is like a feast: Poet Pablo Neruda says, I run after certain words. They
are so beautiful I want to fit them all into my poems. I catch them in mid-flight as they buzz
past. I trap them, clean them, peel them. I set them in front of a dish: they have a crystalline
texture to me: vibrant, ivory, vegetable, oily. Like fruit, like algae, like agate, like olive. And
then I stir them. I shake them, I drink them, I gulp them down, I garnish them, I let them go.
Questions: E: [email protected]
T: 541-485-2259
W: www.ywalane.org
3
high school
UpStarts is the only county-wide literary magazine authored by Lane
County’s young people. Young Writers Association is able to provide this
publication free to the public because of generous donations. This issue
was made possible in part by a Community Arts Grant from the Lane Arts
Council with support from the City of Eugene Cultural Services Division.
Young Writers Association (YWA) provides elementary through high school
students with interactive literature-based experiences, and is open to all
interested school-aged youth. A nonprofit organization, YWA is funded
through tuition, grants, donations and fund-raising activities. Some
scholarships are available. Through workshops, publications, camps and
literature-based explorations, YWA contributes to the cultural literacy of
Lane County youth.
Thank you to our generous donors:
YWA Literary Angels
Community Arts Grants: Lane Arts Council
with support from the city of Eugene
Cultural Services Division, Herbert
Templeton Foundation, Lane County Cultural
Coalition, Target, Poet Laureate program:
a collaborative project of the state’s five
cultural partners: Oregon Arts Commission,
Oregon Humanities, Oregon Heritage
Commission, Oregon Historical Society,
and State Historic Preservation Office, with
funding from the Oregon Cultural Trust,
YWA Literary Patrons
Anonymous (3), Sarkis & Karen Antikajian, R.
Lou Barker, Ann Fulkerson
Interiorscapes, LLC, Linda & Bridgett
Johnson, Bill Bishop & Janice Jurisich, Carter
McKenzie, Merry Hempsters, Ron & Diana
Osibov, Daniel Sheerin, Judy Sierra & Bob
Kaminsky, Catherine & John Smith, William
Sullivan & Janell Sorensen, Ulum Group
YWA Literary Family
Raymond Byrne, Gaylene Carpenter, David
Clouse, Essex General Construction, Scott
Felsher & Elizabeth King, Mary Ginnane,
Margaret Hadaway, Hilary Kretchmer & David
Fulp, Holiday Market, Brian & Linda Lanker,
Vicki Morgan & Michael Duran, Norman
Narin, David Niles & Team Orthodontics, John
& Nola Reed, Norma Sax, Judy & Tim Volem,
Julie & Robert Westermann
YWA Literary Individuals
Christine & Gavin Armstrong, Marie Bigelow,
Quinton Ehley, Caryn A. Gagarin, Quinton
Hallet, Bob Helm, Ann Hubbird, Tara Jecklin,
Richard & Janet Reed, Paul Semonin, Randall
& Deborah Wells, Sally Quinn, Joann Shortt,
Mary Quick
Glitterary Word Festival 2010, produced by
Young Writers Association, made possible
by:
Lane Arts Council with support from the City
of Eugene Cultural Services Division, Eugene
Public Library and Friends of the Library,
Ingrid Wendt and Ralph Salisbury, Lane
Literary Guild, Wells Fargo Bank, Robertson/
Sherwood Architects, Sunrise Asian Foods,
Rainbow Optics, Nancy’s Yogurt/Springfield
Creamery, The Science Factory Hands on
Children’s Museum, McKenzie School District,
Jerry’s Home Improvement,KLCC Public
Radio, 89.7, WOW Hall, Tsunami Books,
Lord Leebrick, UO Bookstore/Duckstore,
Papa’s Pizza, Skipping Stones Magazine,
Multicultural Storytelling Festival, Eugene
Toy & Hobby and Unique Eugene businesses,
Friendly Street, Le Petit Gourmet, Marie
Callender’s, Metropol Bakery, Sweet Life,
Trader Joes, Great Harvest Bread Company,
Hideaway Bakery, Humble Bagel, Safeway
@ 40th/Donald, Sundance Natural Foods,
Eugene City Bakery
2010-2011 BOARDS:
Advisory Board
Doug Blandy
Marji DeBuse
Judith Hankin
Deb Kriegh
Jon Labrousse
Marianne Oakes
Rita Svanks
Lewis Taylor
Judy Volem
Robert Young
Board of Directors
YWA Board President
Catherine Ballard
Board Treasurer/Secretary/
Website
Tara Jecklin
President-elect
Linda Johnson
Treasurer/Secretary-elect
Amanda Reed
Media Advisor
Lewis Taylor
Founding Director
Louisa Lindsay-Sprouse
Tracy Edmonson
Bridgett Johnson
Emily Mangan
Bethany Schmidt
Judy Sierra
Frank Sprouse
Sarah Walden
UpStarts Editor
Louisa Lindsay-Sprouse
Winter 2011 Designer
Sarah Payne
Intern, UO School
of Journalism
Photos courtesy of:
Bridgett Johnson
Sarah Payne
Q : H o w c a n yo u h e l p k i d s a n d t e e n s g i v e v o i c e ?
an excerpt from the short story
Cinderella Unveiled
You may think Cinderella was a
happy story. That’s exactly what it was
though... a story. Cinderella was rude,
self-centered, and a drama queen. I’m
here to tell you the truth. My name
is Ugly Step Sister. That’s how you all
know me. I won’t bother telling you
my name because in the end you won’t
really care will you?
Cinderella loved herself. When she
thought no one was looking she would
wear her beautiful dresses that her
family had gotten her, but when people
were around she would wear rags sewn
together to make her look abused. The
parts she told you of us yelling at her
were us trying to get her to stop acting
like we were terrible people. We really
weren’t. We don’t even know why she
hated us. Anyway, she would do her
chores and cry, acting like we were
doing everything wrong to her. Back
to what I said about her being selfcentered. I bet she never told you why
she said we were the ugly stepsisters.
It’s because she thought she was the
most beautiful thing on earth. Did you
know that?
Then there was the whole fairy
godmother thing, and the mice that
helped her. If you believed that then I
am really worried about you. First of all
she hated mice. Killed them as much as
she could. Second, how would a rodent
be able to help someone? Then the
godmother thing. I have no idea where
that had come from.
Oh and the ball. She said we forced
her to stay home. Well that is true. She
was grounded for screaming at us, and
saying some very big profanities from
such a small girl. She decided to sneak
out...
Read the rest of this story at ywalane.org!
John Sevy
10th Grade, Crow High School
The Living Desert
Distorted clouds thousands of feet up,
molding to the push and pull of the winds,
screwed into the sky like incandescent light bulbs;
Structures ominous; asbestos built homes,
dangers in every bush and rock,
cacti as tall as telephone poles allowing complexity
and communication,
thriving with the life of fur collar workers,
clocking in clocking out
Birds fading as burned out street lights and the
minds of victims; endless repetition...
Chassan Allen
South Eugene High School
Ode to Silence
One can never have their fill
Of such a delicacy
Some spend a lifetime searching
By escaping the jungles of concrete
A royal resource it is
Boundless in some places
But extinct in some others
You can never have too much
Unlike cake or the bitter cold
It is something that lacks expiration
How joyous to seek it out
And to grab on to it
At any given opportunity
No price can be given
To something that can’t be touched
But can touch you
It is purer than the purest water
Yet can be so easily muddied
Silence is a commodity for most
A choice of lifestyle for me
James Emery
Age 17, Thurston High School
A : h e l p y w a p u b l i s h 4 ,0 0 0 c o p i e s o f u p st a r t s, t h re e
t i m e s ye a r ly. d o n at e at y w a l a n e.o rg
4
high school
Poem
Opals and Sage
Untitled
Lilacs drooped outside the open window,
almost brushing the starched white curtains.
The heady scent of blossoms and sun;
dizzy delirium.
We sipped white wine from paper cups
when your mother was out.
You wore siliver rings on your fingers,
slender as birds,
and your hair was ruffled and bright
like the clouds we watched
from the hilltop.
I saw pale dragons and lacy dresses
and carriages of light.
You saw the blue space between.
You always did.
Jemila Spain
Age 17, Lane Community College
Identity
What would you do?
If I told you who I was?
If I told you my secret identity?
Would you run?
I have to keep it a secret.
Because I don’t want anyone to
know who I truly am.
Why can’t I be the real me?
Hiding under 1,000 masks,
What else would you ask?
If you knew who I am
You would have already run.
Under all the pressure,
To be so perfect.
At least it’s a nice gesture.
If I took off the masks
There would only be 100 more.
So don’t try to open that door.
Will you say you love me?
If I were to show you what I am?
Will you believe me?
If I were to tell you who I am?
Ashlie Ortiz
Gateways High School
5
middle school
Deep in the red-lit canyon
Pillowed clouds and rough, grey grass
Arms wide, a bird’s easy dance
Wind and the open window
The gardener is growing opals and a basket full of sage
Dusty red rock, apples and sage
Brown owl lifts above the sandy canyon
A knotted old oak, growing opals
Silk sky and singing grass
Piano laughter, lifting out the window
Afternoon flight, wildflower’s dance
Phoebe Sheldon Young
12th Grade, South Eugene High School
Ask Me Why?
Ask me
Why I stay
Hidden in the wild?
The dew fills my lungs each morning
and I bask in the sun each afternoon
at night I cast my line and fish for stars
Ask me
Why I stay
In the skyscrapers?
People stream by, ebbing in and out like
a dance
Rays of sunlight bend off the glass panes
I’m surrounded forever tied to others
An instrument in a great orchestra of life
Ask me
Why I stay
Here?
I am happy
Steffi Rice
Age 15, Sheldon High School
What does the bell sound like
Ichabod?
Like polished, mahogany desks
Like the smell of wood smoke
And hot coffee in mugs
Like the velvety feel of the cushions
On the armchairs at Grandmother’s house.
What does the mirror sound like as it breaks
Ichabod?
Like piercing silver darts
Like hard raindrops striking your face
Like slicing your finger on the edge
Of a new page in Grandmother’s book.
What does a laugh sound like
Ichabod?
Like sunlight stroking your hair
Like the taste of fresh strawberry jam
that Grandmother makes in the summer
Like rubbing the ear of a mouse.
The Victory
Up on deck
Ready to bat
As you’re walking
Up to the plate
Your legs shaking,
Your eyes on the ball
As you swing
And just watch the ball
Flying out freely
As you run all the bases in the diamond
As you drop & slide home
Then get up
And get hit by yout teammates
Tumbling on top of you
Congratulating you
As you hold the trophy
To your victory.
Alex Wootan
Age 12, Arts & Technology Academy
What does your voice sound like
Ichabod?
I do not know
for I am as deaf as you
my dear.
I have never known.
Hannah Harris
Age 13, Roosevelt Middle School
Pomegranates
Untitled
There is not a cloud in the stainless blue sky
and I wander, carefree, across the sandy beach
hugging the blissfully cool turquoise ocean.
It is a soft sunny afternoon
and nothing moves but the tiny fish, dancing in shafts
of light.
The whole world is silent.
Now the moon has risen into a navy sky
and a gentle breeze swings the coconuts
back and forth, back and forth, like a lullaby.
Three-legged dogs the color of mud search for supper.
School is out, here in Placencia,
and on the beach, rhythmic chatter rings out like bells.
I thought it would be easy
but it wasn’t. It was so loud
and all of the noise was noise
I didn’t understand. Everyone speeding past
me. And all I could do was watch
and listen. I sat on a swing and watched.
It wasn’t what I was used to:
no fields, no pine trees, no satly taste
in the air. Instead, dark roads of stone.
The streets were quiet, not like back home,
and old and smokey, too. Carvings showing
pomegranates, the fruit of Granada.
Casey Sauter
Age 12, Spencer Butte Middle School
Q : c a n yo u b e a y w a v o l u n t e e r ?
a : j o i n w o r k pa r t i e s o r a ct i o n c om m i t t e e s ! f o r m o re
i n f o rm at i o n , c o n t a ct l o u i s a at y w a l o u i s a @ a o l .c om
Kate Gladhart-Hayes
Age 11, Spencer Butte Middle School
6
middle school
7
middle school
Untitled
The Light in the Dark
A dangerous town in California
Vallejo was its name, a field in
a dark closet. Tough like leather. As you
wander, you get a bruise as someone laughs.
Feeling as if you are being watched
you look at the moon as a dark cloud
wanders in front to stop your vision.
You see a tree in the light,
you see it during the night,
it changes in soul and sight.
Once I saw a hunchback,
then I saw the lightning crack.
When I walked through the cave,
I saw something I’ve never seen.
Through the darkness and the mist,
I saw myself as clear as day.
At this y
ear’s firs
t annua
encoura
l Scareged to
A-Thon,
write th
student
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st page
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spot!
I felt myself warm up inside,
I felt the rock by my side,
and it made sense.
During the darkness there is always light.
Swaying slowly
Yesterday I was exciting, outgoing.
What happened? Today I am depressed
And feel lonelier than ever.
Some days I hit all the green lights,
And some days I hit the reds
At every intersection.
Today I keep having sudden red lights,
Today I just want to run those red lights
But I can’t.
I keep trying to tell myself to be patient,
That it all happens for a reason
And it changes who we will be in the future.
It could be tomorrow
It could be in a year
But I just have to wait for the green light.
Makayla Elliott
Age 11, Arts & Technology Academy
I, a bird, explore the world
seeing the little things that count. Passing
things on. Being precise. I fly to explore.
I fly to see. My feathers are
bright and exciting. I sleep in a nest
created and designed by me with my artsy
mind. I am joyful. I inspire
by flying across the seas. I am
a bird exploring the world.
Samantha Schuttpelz
Age 11, Cal Young Middle School
Sophia Lind
Age 12, Roosevelt Middle School
Giraffes
Brynne Webb
Age 12, homeschooled
The Red Lights and the Green
A deathly scream pierces your ears.
Lying in your bed you fear to sleep.
You feel a sharp, cold blade touch your skin.
Waking up with a shriek coming from your lips
you realize it was just a dream
Eyes wide open, you remember your dream and cry.
Bird
Arms around my neck
Do you feel me?
Nose against mine
Are you still there?
Fingers in my hair
Can you still hear me?
Heart beating fast
Are you thinking about me?
Lips remain unmoving
What are you not telling me?
Slow down
You’re dancing too fast
Leaving me behind
Are we going to last?
Slow down
You’re moving wild
I’m all that’s left
You’re just a child
You, dancing quickly
Me, swaying slowly...
Maisie Titterington
Age 11, Roosevelt Middle School
Q : c a n yo u s p o n s o r a st u d e n t w h o wa n ts to w r i te ?
Have you ever had an argument
with a giraffe? I have. You’d expect
it to be impossible, as giraffes don’t
talk. But spotless giraffes know sign
language.
I know a giraffe named Phil.
Phil used to live in the zoo, but he
ran away because all the people
threw rocks at him because of his
spotlessness.
Before I go any further, I must
explain to you that just because I say
Phil is spotless, he is not at all clean.
In fact, Phil (in my opinion) is the
most putrid thing in North America.
He never told me how, but
somehow Phil escaped. I found
him hiding in my backyard one day.
Just imagine how shocked I was to
find a giraffe in my little, fencedin backyard. And a spotless one at
that. When I got over my surprise,
I realized he was trying to talk to
me. It took a while, but eventually I
learned how to understand Phil. Phil
could already understand humans, so
that was no problem.
Giraffe sign language works like
this: the giraffe positions its long
neck in a very specific orientation
and expects you to do its bidding.
We humans can’t completely decode
giraffe sign language, as these neck
positions are so very specific. For
example, the neck position for “I’m
hungry,” and the neck position for
“I want to eat you” are practically
indistinguisable.
Anyway, back to our argument. Phil
always complained about how small
my house was. One day, Phil told
me that I should demolish my roof.
The way he worded it in Giraffish
was very rude. I told him that maybe
he should just go away if he wasn’t
happy with the roof of my house.
Then he told me he was hungry (or
maybe he wanted to eat me) and ran
away.
I never saw Phil again, but at least I
had my backyard back.
Frances Konyn
Age 13, Cal Young Middle School
a : e a g e r w r i t e rs i n s i x d i f f e re n t a f t e r- s c h o o l w r i t i n g
g ro u p s n e e d s c h o l a rs h i p s. d o n at e at y w a l a n e.o rg
8
middle school
9
elementary school
an excerpt from the short story
A Land of Desolation
Color
The Girl in the Red Rain Slicker
A girl in a red rain slicker
sloshed down the submerged sidewalk,
her little white dog
played in a puddle at her feet.
The wild wind whipped around her face
tangling her hair in the white wire of
her headphones.
In her hand she held an old iPod
playing 80’s pop.
The sound of a smile sang out
from her chapped, cherry lips
She looked at her little dirty dog
She laughed.
Emme Shortt
Age 12, Eugene Waldorf
Where I go
It’s colorful, rainbow
The lines are never straight
Always bent, or curved
Red trees
Orange flowers
Yellow grass
Green sheets
Blue pillows
Purple dishes
The edges aren’t blurred
They’re always in sharp relief
People can come
Once they accept who they are
Red shoes
Orange hair
Yellow nails
Green jacket
Blue jeans
Purple shirts
We’ll cook food
We’ll all enjoy
In my rainbow kitchen
Red spices
Orange noodles
Yellow chicken
Green vegetables
Blue fruit
Purple rice
It’s a secret world
Where colors are cherished
Maisie Titterington
6th Grade, Roosevelt Middle School
The Gull
A winged bird wandering through the sky.
Blue expanse over blue expanse of water.
Its keen eyes watch the waves curve upon
themselves like a wheel rolling till the end of time.
Diving into the second blue,
the fishy one, it tastes the salty water.
Oh to be an ocean bird, with all
the elements except fire at your command.
Then flitting to land to rest in crushed shells,
as the sun sets in soft pink clouds.
The friendly lapping waves and the silver moon
quietly sing the gray minstrel to sleep.
Heart
If your heart were a house, I would be the key
If your heart were an ocean, I would be the waves
If your heart were a flower, I would be the petals
If you were a child, I would hold your hand. And I
would hope that
you would hold mine back.
Hannah Eshelman
Age 13, Roosevelt Middle School
It was a blustery, snowy day in the suburbs of
Colorado and Logan was just driving through it.
He had no food and he was not used to driving
through snow because he had come from
Kansas where it is always dry.
He scanned through his fogged up windshield
and turned the heat on his car to full blast.
Suddenly he saw a sign that was half covered
in snow and he could only see “Supermarket”
and then an arrow pointing to the right. This
could only mean one thing: a supermarket was
around the next right.
Logan swerved around a corner in the road
and saw, to his astonishment, a Supermarket.
It was not as big as the one he had stopped at
a couple of days ago, but a pretty good size. He
drove into the parking lot and, collecting his
coat and wallet, headed up to the front door.
over to the cereal. It was labeled January 12 16 months ago, he calculated. He ventured to
the aisle on the far side of the store and poked
through the boxes which consisted of apples,
bananas, pears, peaches and oranges, all with
bumps, bruises and mildew on them.
Suddenly Logan thought: “I need some
hotdogs!” Logan hurried to the freezer aisle.
Just as he got there, he opened the door. A rush
of cold air went onto his face and he reached
for the hotdogs...
But too late! He had gotten sucked into the
cooler. He was flying through what seemed like
endless outer space! Suddenly he was dropped
into a land he later knew did not have summer.
It was always night. Logan looked up to where
he was dropped.
Only dust! Looking at the landscape around
Logan proceeded inside. He was surprised
him, he saw only sandy cliffs and eskers. He
to see that all of the lights were on when he
looked around for any water source: none. No
thought it would be all cob-webby. The aisles
food, nothing, well, except for his pack of gum
were full of food and drinks. But there was also that he had in his pocket...
a feeling of desolation in the air, like no one
Read the rest of this story online at ywalane.org!
had been there for a couple of months. He went
William DenOuden
Age 9, Fox Hollow Elementary
Stars
Every night I go outside and
say the magic words big dipper
milky way and then they come down
and say go to sleep, close your eyes
and when they come down I feel
safe from every harming thing and
when I fall asleep they bring me
to my bed, then they go up to
the sky with all sorts of colors
falling from them.
Audrey Thomas
4th Grade, Meadowlark Elementary
Eli Cytrynbaum
Age 12, Spencer Butte Middle School
Q : W h at a b o u t st i r r i n g u p l i t e r a r y p l ay f o r a d u lt s ?
a : h o st a y w a h o u s e pa r t y ! f o r m o re i n f o rm at i o n ,
c o n t a ct l o u i s a at y w a l o u i s a @ a o l .c om
10
elementary school
Poem
I am the bridge that is driven over all day
With never-ending traffic.
I am the snow on a mountain, with skiers
Running over the top of me.
I am the door that never gets opened.
I am a hanger that has every pair of clothes on it
In the closet in the basement that never gets seen.
I am the marker that never gets picked up to write with.
I am the ball that never gets noticed.
I am the paper that never gets written on.
That’s what I am.
I Wish
A Cave hidden in the white cliffs
The inside has a dark and gloomy feeling to it
It is as pitch black as midnight
Winds make eerie sounds as they blow in the corridors.
The piercing scream of a bird fills the cave, echoing
A river, rich with minerals, makes a quiet gushing sound
Eyeless fish swim in the small lake the river makes
Untouched by humans, this cave is pollustion free
A paradise for all who live there
Melissa Wang
Age 10, Camas Ridge Elementary
Where I’m From
I am from smoothies and a strawberry, sweet.
I am from when my dad died,
from when I had all my losses.
I am from coffee. I am from the book
Alice in Wonderland. I am from all different
things like chocolate cake, guitars and
all that stuff. But I am
from ancient Oregon and that is
all.
Sadie Johnson
4th Grade, Meadowlark Elementary
Inspired by “I Wish In The City of Your
Heart” by Robby Wilson
I wish in the city of
your heart I could
be the sunset
Wyatt Miller
3rd Grade, Oakridge Elementary
Cave
11
elementary school
Poem
In the cave the diamond
grows and grows until
it drops in the water
the most wondrous
light of day.
It’s like a fire,
but more lifelike,
so beautiful,
as people are going
to sleep
quiet,
quiet,
I will keep.
Jillian Peterson
4th Grade, Meadowlark Elementary
until it lands on the beach
with many shells.
Karen Wingard
4th Grade, Meadowlark Elementary
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Sadness
My Voice
The Water Worm Poem
Inside of me, a voice is
screaming to find me. Wanting to show
the world what it is made of.
More slimy than a fish
Sticky like a sticker
Except it doesn’t have gills
And it’s not decorative
Angela Church
3rd Grade, Meadowlark Elementary
Crystal
Go inside a crystal
pretty as the sunset
put it by your eye, see it by
the double.
A kingdom entirely
made out of crystal. Wouldn’t
that be lovely.
Cameron Cota
4th Grade, Meadowlark Elementary
As small as a pebble
Smart like a super computer
Except it’s not heavy
And people can’t use it
Reed Wolfe
Age 8, Holt Elementary
Sadness is like a black hole. Sadness is
As painful as being stabbed in the leg.
Sadness is like a broken toy
that was brand new. Sadness is like a hurt feeling
inside of you. Sadness is a place of no feeling and
breath.
Sadness is like a time you got hurt.
Sadness is always inside of you.
Sadness is like having no other feelings.
Sadness is like having a nice day
without the nice part. Sadness
Is like having a fun video game
without the fun part.
Andrew Montgomery
4th Grade, Willagillespie
After the Eclipse
Lily is suddenly plunged into light. The world feels new, bright and glossy, like a dirty mirror that
has just been cleaned. During the eclipse, Lily had been very scared. The wind had whisked the
dry leaves across the ground. All had been silent. Not even a chirp, croak, or scuttle. It felt like
a storm was going to hit, but the storm never came. Now Lily would always be aware of these
strange darknesses. When the eclipse came Lily had been returning from her afternoon walk. Then
darkness. It was strange how the sky suddenly faded from light blue to black. But then light was
there again. She felt like the darkness would never end, and was relieved when it was light again.
She would always be thankful for light.
Claire Shepard
Age 8
Q : W h at a re t h e p r i z e s f o r t h e n e x t c o n t e st ?
a : d o n at i o n s p ro v i d e p r i z e s. c a n yo u h e l p ? w e n e e d
b et w e e n 2 0 - 2 5 p r i z e s. d o n at e at y w a l a n e.o rg
12
elementary school
Rain
the rain
that comes pouring
down and that comes
storming down and the
sticky rain and misty
rain that comes in
summer and the cold
rain and the rain
that makes you feel
good and the rain
that makes you
feel
Anthony Briggs
4th Grade, Willagillespie Elementary
Dog
Blessings Poem
Inspired by the poem “Twenty
Blessings”
May you walk along the sea.
May you lean against the wind -don’t let the forest scare you
in the shadows of the night.
Isreal Johnson
3rd Grade, Meadowlark Elementary
Quietness
Spooky quiet in the darkness of a cave.
Happy quiet when you’re in the spotlight.
Cute quiet when you’re holding a newborn kitten.
Watery quiet as you float in a pool.
Tickly quiet as a ladybug crawls up your arm.
Quiet quiet like no noise at all.
Quiet like when you raise your hand to answer a
math problem.
Sleepy quiet as if you are falling into a blanket of
warmth.
Fast quiet as if an airplane just flew over you.
Sneaky quiet when your brother tries to steal
from you!
Abby Reed
4th Grade, Willagillespie Elementary
My dog’s pointed ears
remind me of a triangle trying to fly
When I walk next to my dog
I feel silk
When I’m in the park
I can still smell my dog
in the green grass
If I tasted my dog
I think it would taste gross
like snail shells
Melina Deinum-Buck
1st Grade, Fox Hollow Elementary
Marble
circle
blueberry
smooth
buzzing sound on the table
magical
ye s ! ye a ! d ays : y w a l a n e.o rg
Thomas Cheong
3rd Grade, Willagillespie
o n e d ay a dv e n t u re s o n s c h o o l d ays w h e n t h e re i s n o s c h o o l !