THE CITY INSIDE US
My heart is as busy as a race car
racing around a track.
My brain thinks as if it was
a scientist on a sugar high.
My stomach is as jumpy as a
sack race with people falling.
My blood’s vicious as wrestlers
fighting for a trophy.
My bones are a circus act
going as planned.
Allison Byars
Blue
Blue like the sea with waves
galore, blue like the sky friends
with the clouds, blue like a dolphin
swimming in the pond with an
apple in its mouth for later.
Grace Meller
Giraffe in the Big Apple
I am a giraffe in the big apple. I
never been so I am looking for
a big apple.
Everybody is staring at me as
I prance through the sidewalk.
No big apple but a big man. This man
is taller than me way way taller.
He does not move and is gray.
He is holding a torch and a book.
He smells like cement and tastes
like cement.
He feels rough and beat up. He
sounds like a piece of history
to me.
And after I am done with the
gray man I look at the buildings
and I take a big whiff of the air
and it smells like gas, sounds like
horns, looks like a tall city.
Mason Pleimann
The Poem You’ve Been Waiting For
turquoise
orange
Fayetteville, AR
Peyton
Ely
Chase
chameleon colorful long tongue
mac-and-cheese
goldfish
Hot dog
gummy worm stretchy wiggly rainbow
Harry Potter Chamber of Secrets
Thrift Shop I got this big ol’ coat
baseball player architect
dream
fighting people and sharks
Canon Capo
Eager
1 going home—
going home
2 going to a birthday party—going to a
birthday party
3 taking a nap—taking a nap
4 going to school—going to school
5 having a sleepover with my friend
having a sleepover with my friend
6 going to the pool—going to the pool
7 going to Florida, Denver—
going to Florida, Denver
Peyton Schratz
Dear Joyful
Dear Joyful,
You’re the present time in a party
You’re the smile on a gloomy man’s
face
You’re the gold medal at the Olympics
You’re the crowd cheering after
a touchdown
You’re the smell of chocolate chips
melting on a cookie
You’re the cool ice-water that
runs down my throat on a
hot summer day
You’re the pop in my life
Miko Rutledge
Wait and See
I’m out here now,
So what am I supposed to do?
Do I sit here, and listen to the birds tweeting away?
Do I sit here, and sit here and name the shapes of the clouds?
Do I sit here, and taste the humid air I breath?
Do I sit here, and let the blades of grass tickle at my legs?
Do I sit here, and smell the humid air?
Or do I sit here and wait for a door to success to open for me?
No, I do not.
I do not know how I will do it.
But, I will grow up to leave the smallest mark on the world.
Work and try is something I can do.
Enlighten me, do you want to help others as much as I do?
Emily Martini
The Bay
As I wander wearily along
an old bay, I decide to lean against
an ancient mossy cypress tree,
and taste the cool air blowing
in my thirsty gaping mouth.
I get up to my unsteady feet,
only to fall face-first
into the watery bay. Though quite
blurry, I can make out the shapes
of minnows and small bream
hastily darting away from me.
As if on instinct, I sit up
and listen to the birds. Doves cooing.
Robins chirping. Buntings singing.
Crows cawing. As much as I want
to, I cannot swim, but I can
climb. So I do. I climb
all the way to the top of an old
cottonwood. I feel the study
limbs as they support me. Say,
do you benefit from what
nature offers?
Earl Pittman
The Willow
Under the willow
the bunnies burrow.
The sparrow flaps
her long black wings.
I teach the child
how to read and say
to myself, Why does
a willow weep?
I hear the wind
calling my name
while I see
the sparrow making
its nest among
the branches. I eat
the berries I packed
for lunch and smell
the fresh cut grass
and touch the long
branches of the willow
Can you tell me why
a willow weeps?
Larissa Morley
Haiku: Secrets
I’ve never had any secrets.
I don’t think I’ll ever have any.
I shouldn’t ever hide myself.
Abbey Brandon
The Dinner Party
I invited Albert Einstein to dinner
on the condition that he didn’t play
with his dirty hair. All he talked about
was how he made up E=MC2.
We were eating pizza for dinner
and the pepperoni was so spicy
that his hair caught on fire.
I asked, “Is it really that hot?!?!”
as he rolled on the floor screaming.
Bella Riley
Ode to the Pencil
O pencil, when I watch you draw
it’s like watching a sunset.
When my hand meets
with your wooden surface,
it feels so smooth
like a well-polished glass window.
Your yellow paint seems
to glow like the sun
on a hot summer day.
O pencil, when your eraser
clears my mistakes,
it’s like a broom sweeping away dust.
When your tip dances
across my paper, it’s like
a ballerina gracefully moving
across the floor.
Without you, this poem
would’ve never existed.
Abbey Chang
Root Elementary School
Fayetteville, AR
Date of Visit: April 22 – 23, 2013
Faculty Sponsor: Diane Carpenter
Grade Levels: 3, 4, 5
Appx. Number Students Served: 200
Visiting Writers: Aran Donovan, Diana Reaves, Chris Tamigi, and Corrie Williamson