The color everyone waits for at a traffic light.
You walk on this everyday.
The color of envy, of jealousy.
The bright colored frogs which jump on lily pads.
Good luck, only with four leaves, though.
I am a cement truck stop.
I am a broken eraser in a
school box. I am a T-shirt in
a closet. I am a pair of sunglasses.
I am a microwave in a tight
space. I am a water bottle in a
I am the sun when it rises.
I am a pair of boots on a
I am a paper blowing in the wind.
I am a banana swaying in a tree.
I am a lion sleeping through
I see a bluebird crashing into a tree badly.
I hear the bluebird cry and trying to sing.
I feel the bluebirds broken wing trying to fly.
I smell the wound on the bluebirds wings.
I taste the tears from the bluebird.
I am Mrs. Sad.
His hair is an orange.
His legs are white paper.
His eyes are blueberries.
His lips are pink worms.
His nose is the tip of a ballpoint pen.
His hands are tomatoes.
He was a stem,
and I was the leaf.
rows of corn and wheat
moose and chickens bock bock bocking
wet dough grass
grass and nastiness
Ugly is dark chocolate
cake rainbow cat and smells
like baseball fries that are terrible
and looks like a cowboy riding
a zebra down an apple pie.
That isn’t the worst part.
A Journey to Safe Haven
the hot, sweaty day
the safe haven right in front of me
so close, yet so far way
the fishy, toxic smell
of flamingo, the flamingos
squawking. taste the sweat
flying off me while I ran.
the footsteps of a human in my labyrinth
the dust rises from the floor to my eyes
the mold on my labyrinth walls
the rush of a new victim
the fear in my victim’s
body, for I am a Minotaur and no
one can escape me
I open the door as I feel the
cool breeze rush through me like a penguin
in Antarctica. I grab a drink. I close the
doors. I then think about all that
coolness is trapped in, never to escape until you
open the doors. Like a dungeon, you can’t get
out unless someone unlocks your doors
and sets you free. As I stand there and
look at the silverness of the rectangular object that
has handprints, like a bear’s tracks after
a heavy rainfall. I stand there for a minute,
listening to the humming, thinking of the
birds chirping in the summer on a hot day.
A tiny football-shaped sun
sitting in a small chair,
your pointy ears sticking out as if you’re listening,
as sour as a mad person,
none too sweet,
I only eat half before looking like I’m overexcited,
then off I go
to gulp your sweet best friend.
Elgin B. Milton Elementary School
Dates of Visit: April 29 – 30, 2013
Faculty Sponsor: Lana McLaughlin
Grade Levels: 4, 5
Appx. Number Students Served: 80
Visiting Writers: Stu Dearnley, Alice Otto, Hank Pate, and Lizzie Paulus