Root Elementary School


I am a piece of quartz.
I see black hard stones.

I am a piece of quartz.
I feel like someone is trapping

I am a piece of quartz.
I hear echoes everywhere, oh
Wait! I hear clack, clack on stone.
Could it be?

I am a piece of quartz.
I see light, the back of a truck
going down a dirt road.

I am a piece of quartz.
I smell the thick smoke of a
ring-making factory.

Xavier Lozer


It looks
like a king.

But when you
cut it open,

it’s sunshine.

Vincent Bauer

My black trampoline

Where it smells like tar
from the tire swing.

I hear cars honking.

When it rains, it tastes like nothing.

I come from a place where it is so hot
I go swimming.

Julia Hapgood

I Come From

I come from a field of grass.
I come from a place where I play.
I come from the place where I run.
I come from the smell of roasted meat as it’s cooked.
I come from where I throw baseballs and footballs.
I come from a place where I make memories.
I come from a field of grass.

Blaise Duell

Why I Love You

Every time I write,
I get swept up
in the story

My pencil sweeping
across the paper,
writing those things
called “words”

My pencil dotting
and whispering
across the paper
like the wind

Creating a story
that everyone will read

Paper and pencil lead

The best thing about writing?
I do it when I want to.

Ella Marie Grissom

Golden Rubik’s Cube

Twist it once, you’re really strong.

Twist it twice, you read minds.


You have to remember how you twisted it.

If you don’t, the magic will be gone forever.

Gavin Looney


If an oak tree made a sound,
it would sound like a person
Typing on a keyboard.

If electricity made a sound
it would sound like
An hour glass draining sand.

If a planet made a sound
it would make the
Tick tock on a clock.

Jake Hoos

The brave paleontologist

as Scout walked up the dusty hill
she could just hear the old
dinosaurs roaring in her imagination.
they sounded so loud it sounded
as if they were shrieking. she
could taste the dry sand in
her mouth. she saw a
big cave. she walked over
and went in. it was very
dark. at least she had
a flashlight. when she
turned it on right in front
of her was…a dinosaur
skeleton. she could just smell
the history. she had just
discovered the velociraptor.

Jordan Hertzbery


Coral is the salt of the sea.
Coral is the swaying sound of trees
in the wind.

Coral is as bright as the sun.
Coral is the feel of heat.
Coral is the courage deep down.
Coral is the color of happiness
and life.

Caroline J.


Emerald is amazing it’s
crazy it’s abstract out of
our world. It holds power
to crave you with greed.
Emerald it’s bright it
shoots with spring green.
Emerald is evil deep inside
then bam it catches
your eye you see it you
love it, you take it
you hate it, Emerald
smells like mountain
greens it tastes sour but
sweet it looks great
but to knock it back down it’s
still that old evil


The Shy Mailman

He wakes up and has a
small breakfast, puts on his soft shoes,
and gets the mail from the post office.
He heads out on his rounds. When he is outside,
hears the noise of the main roads from the
neighborhood. He can see the small houses
and big houses with different colors like a
soft yellow or dark brown. He tastes
small, sweet grapes from the small houses
and big juicy oranges from the big houses.
He quietly walks to the mailboxes and
feels the cool touch of the metal. He
smells the cool air while walking around.
He is happy about his day.

Natalie Bell

The Nervous Pilot

He wakes up and has his coffee.
He flies in evasive maneuvers.
He sees every seagull as a missile,
every cloud as a concrete wall.
He hears every breath as a gunshot,
every shout as a falling bomb.
He feels every shake as
a falling plane, every shake
as the plane exploding. He smells
every smell as methane, every
toot as gas. He hears every
word as an SOS, every beep as
a herd of F43’s. He tastes
every bit of saliva as poison,
every drop of water as acid.
He has crashed 17 planes and
killed hundreds.

Nathan M.

Biography of Dark Green

Green was born of the end of winter.
It smells of fresh cut grass, elbow grease, and lemonade.
It makes the birds chirp and the wolves howl.
It deprives the world of all other
colors in its emerald stone house
as it breaks the suns rays.
It makes you crave anything but decaf.
It sounds of laughter, as it marks
the beginning of golf season.
Green is the soft color that hurts
the eye so it cries its great bright tears
when it doesn’t his the fashion magazine.

Evan Bland

Spring in the Woodland

The sparrow starts with a chuckle.
Perched in a weeping tree
above the fragrant sunset lilies
A tiny bear exits his stony
halls, perking his cinnamon
nose into the air.
The birds are singing
a sad song that is happy
because the greatest
cold has passed.
The tortoise slowly tells
his story and might
never reach the end.
The sunlight drapes its golden
dress over the smiling land.
The ivy is climbing towards
the chattering squirrel,
the hawk climbs down
with his smooth red tail,
The wolves run, happy and howling,
and all around you
the fountain of life has
filled the land.

Marska Fernando

Ode to an Old Bike of Mine

I had to toss you out
I hated it
I hated tossing you out
Your rusty chain
Broken tire tubes
Old rims
I cried, sort of
What?! Don’t judge me!
I’m not a hoarder
You taught me a valuable life skill
The sound of your squeaky wheels
No one knows that I cried
Except mom
She was there
You amused me, but you’ll never know
I rode you with my friends
I feel off of you
I scraped myself a bright red scrape.
I miss you
I got over it
Your yellow Velcro attachment
Your neon orange life lights
The dry dirt got in your perfect wheels
I got sad
I feared giving you up
I am not a hoarder
Your brakes failed once
More fear
Your chain rattled
More fear
You fell apart slowly
Like when I take apart a Lego set
More fear
I had to toss you out
I hated it

Chase Gerhart

July, Cozumel

I plunge into the icy, deep water
I kick toward the coral
the bright yellow and reds
its so beautiful, almost distracting
from the heat above
a wave hits
thundering, collapsing in on itself
pushed onto the sizzling sand
one after another, pushing me, rolling me
I can still see it
standing in water
the coral that the waves keep from me
I try to go back
under and over the waves
almost there
I lose concentration
and I’m back on the oven they call a beach
the waves are stronger
I’ll try tomorrow
to find the coral

Georgia Griffin

If I were a in a Pencil Sharpener

I wonder what it would feel like to be
in a pencil sharpener. The pencil shavings
would swallow me up and it would feel like
a bed of dry crumbs. When I see the dull
tip of a pencil I will run for cover. The blades
will sound like scratching a chalk board
to my aching, hurting ears. The thin slivers of wood
will turn the sky of blades tan with bright colors.
I close my eyes and wait for the tornado
to be over. When the pencil shavings
stop moving up and down and the funnel
coming out of the blade dies down,
I peer my head out of the sea of wood.
I drag myself out. This is how life
would go on in a pencil sharpener.

Anna Johnson

The Story of Red

Red was born in the sunrise of a hot
July day. Red traveled across the world,
enhancing apples flags, symbols,
and drawings. But returning once more
for every sunrise. From the ones
rising above a chilled green field,
to the ones rising in a bustling
city. Red tastes of the sweet
center of a watermelon, smells
of a fresh bloomed poppy,
red feels of the soft surface
of the ripest apple, red sounds
of the first chirp of a cardinal.
Red is joy.

Avery Redfern

Root Elementary
Fayetteville, AR
Dates of Visit: April 1 – 2 & 6-7, 2015
Faculty Sponsor: Diane Carpenter
Grade Levels: 3, 4, 5
Appx. Number Students Served: 220
Visiting Writers: Cheyenne Autry, Cara Dees, Megan Downey, Michelle Myers, Julia Paganelli, Larissa Sprecher