Where I’m From
I am from waking up to the smell of cookies baking in the oven. I am from smooth
sugar cookies and bumpy chocolate chips. I am from sweet pumpkin pies and
fresh coffee. I am from a nicely cleaned kitchen that we bake in. I am from big
Thanksgiving meals with orange candied sweet potatoes and melted
marshmallows. I am from the sound of the oven door opening and closing.
Within My Ear
When you open my ear, you will find more than just earwax.
You can find happy memories of my friends, the times i hung out with my family,
and all the music I like to listen to.
Please do not dig deeper into my ear, as you might find some bad memories.
Those are all in the past, and were never meant to happen.
Please make sure to wash your hands after digging through my ear. Thank you for
taking a trip down my memory lane.
Words are Seagulls
You see them
playing on the beach
you don’t mind them
until they take you away
just like words
you love them
‘til they take you away
whether it’s your sandwich or your heart
they’re always taking something
The Cliff House
There is a small light blue house
with a beautiful garden. The flowers smell like the
ocean breeze. When I’m at this house I feel safe.
The path leads to a light blue house where there is a frog
hiding between the bushes. The house
full of bushes smell like grandma’s cookies.
The house is sitting on a cliff.
The light blue house is sitting on a building.
The light blue house might fall if it is sitting
on a building while leaning.
Go past the old haunted castle of which no
one has ever returned. Go through the
mushy, moist swamp where the swamp
monster crunches on the bones of
explorers. Go to the mountain range where
the nasty, ugly harpies live. Only after you
venture through the perilous canyon, you
will see it, the dragon’s cave. Try to steal
the treasure, if you dare, just know the
dragon is always hungry and its awaiting
its next flame broiled meal.
I see the cracks and holes.
I see grass and spiky gum balls.
I see bright colors from the smoke bombs me and my mom threw on the
Fourth of July,
but the thing I notice the most, for better or worse–I see my home.
The Day After the Vet
Leaving the vet, and hearing all of the animals
bark, meow, squeak, rattle, it makes you wonder
which of them aren’t coming back. I open
my car while the wind is howling in
Driving with only the sound of other cars
reminds me of when I lived in the dirty
streets of Chicago.
I leave my car and I hear keys, wind,
and dogs barking. I open the door and see
an empty dog bed, knowing I have to get
rid of it.
These beautiful books,
Warm vanilla scent,
Golden brushed pages,
These amazing vessels for stories,
Fairy tales, truth and lies,
I am lost in the sea of pages.
The soft paper beneath my fingers,
No performance can replace the words on a page.
These words from above
These words from the sea
These words make up a different life altogether.
Never will words so sweet
Never again will words so sharp and chilling
be found in anyone’s mind.
The pages shine like the moon,
This cosmic book,
This celestial vessel.
I come from accents and football.
I come from heat and nature
The fog is here.
Fog makes the world seem as if it is riding on
the shell of a turtle.
You see nothing but dark gray in the distance.
You feel uneasy.
It blinds you,
though you can’t help but adore the apocalyptic
isolation of it all
because for once
it seems like the world is at peace.
What I Mean When I Say Treble
I think of music,
of spellbinding symphonies swirling through the sweet summer.
I think of paper,
of endless days spent studying, drawing melodies from dots and lines.
I think of cleanliness,
of carefully lifting my splendid stringed instrument from its
velvet case, meticulously taking care of it, the scent of wood emanating
as I wipe it down and slide my resin against the bow.
I think of quiet days, of rustling paper,
of beautiful performances in stunning, gilded halls,
of hours spent after stage laughing with my friends
of a second home I made there, as lovely melodies danced around us.
Rain and Thunder
The rain flies down from the sky
like small birds hovering over you.
The little birds land on you,
their feathers cover and cover you.
Their chirps get loud and louder.
Soon it makes a loud, cracking thunder.
But it almost sounds like
Shun the careless kindness
of Poets who sing of love.
For the devils who fight mindless
songs are never enough.
What I Mean When I Say October
I mean the color of the tree leave, look
like it would taste like candy corn and
butterscotch, and the smell of the air
smells like Halloween, and it feels like
it, too. I can almost see the warm
souls in everyone’s heart.
What I Mean When I Say Dad
He comes around at dawn, always greets
people with a cheerful smile. Can always
make me smile, at least for a while. Never
wants to be sad, never wants to be like
his dad. He had a rough childhood, but
he’s on his own feet, gives me a lot
of love and care. He’s always sweet.
Always and forever my hero, and I
will never change that.
A Country Old Home
A country old home
buried behind grape
vines and willow trees.
An old tattered house
hidden from the outside
If any random stranger
were to find this home,
they would simply see
it as a house,
A place without importance,
or any known reason it would be special.
When Times Have Changed
When you think about all things that have
been happening, you think, dang times
have changed. Just the other day I woke
up and I was three. Now I’m thirteen.
See it’s now or never, here or there
any time, any place, do something big,
chase your dreams. Your mom would hate
if you lose because you choose the
wrong path. But times have changed. Everything
you did, you did it because of her. You should
thank her for everything and make her
proud. When times have changed you don’t
let the world put you out of your head. Make her
happy because she loves you always and forever.
When times have changed.
The Day My House Burnt Down
At the time of darkness when no more
light could be seen in the sky, a bright red
could be seen from far away. The bright light
was no ordinary light. This bright red was
much more dangerous than from far away sight.
As I got closer, I realized this was no normal
light, and at the time I could not ignore
what seemed like ten fire trucks turned into more
ash. They come to take down this dangerous
color that gave many people a fright, but to
me, I felt much more years of life here. But
now no more as this dangerous light took down
this house and caused it to be no further more.
The pain in my heart grew and grew as this
house went on, no furthermore.
What Is My Plan
What do I want to do with my life?
How do I want to spend my time?
Who made this life?
I don’t know all those questions, but one thing I do know is that I want to enjoy my life.
I want to have all the fun there is to have, I want to be outside, and see my family.
I want for this life, my only life, to be the best one there has ever been.
I want to do what I want when I would like. I want to be myself and discover all the the things there are to know about the world.
I want for there to be an adventure around the corner every time I feel lost.
I want to believe that there is a better world out there and to come and visit.
So maybe I do know what the answer to all those questions is.
Maybe I do know what I want to do with my life.
Maybe I will achieve those things, who knows.
The boa is gone.
The feathers stick to my dry tongue as one by one goes down my
I can still feel them till this.
Although the feathers haven’t decomposed, I can still feel them
trying to climb up my throat as they tickle my throat.
Wear? Did All My Clothes Go?
All the clothes are gone.
There’s fabric stuck in my teeth.
I haven’t done laundry yet.
I’m really super tired.
I wanna go to bed.
I ate my PJ’s,
but I can’t just wear a t-shirt either.
I ate that, too.
Where did all my clothes go?
What am I gonna do?
Let me go check the basket.
Woah, some more clothes.
I am super hungry.
Now, they’re all gone.
Where did all my clothes go?
Some may wonder what the point of life, but I just care how I spend my time
because life is short,
but this poem is shorter.
It could be hanging halfway off a cliff in a hammock, watching the sunset and
laughing till I can’t breathe.
I could be on a cruise about to reach the sunny shores of the Bahamas.
I could simply go on a walk with my fig–I mean dog, my dog fig.
I could do anything possible.
But instead I’m stuck in here
in this school in this room.
Twirling my yellow pencil thinking what to write about.
When will I get to the point where I can go where I want.
For now, all I can think about is what the point of life is.
Ode to Coffee
iced to perfection,
tastes like a party in your mouth.
Plain, dressed, or decorated
delightful any way,
with a straw or without.
a strong hearty taste.
a sweet nutty flavor.
Happy to sip it.
Just my pleasure,
hot and steamy in the winter,
iced and refreshing
in the summer.
The moral of my ode is
coffee is a need,
and by golly, it’s a joy.
Words are Elephants
Words are elephants.
They are big
like their snouts.
Some words are strong
like their bodies.
Some words are sweet
like the watermelon they eat.
The words you say are prints
of their big feet leaving while walking.
Who made the world?
Who made the jaguars and coyotes?
Who made the snakes?
This snake, I mean,
the one who
slithered their way into
my arms with their scaly spine,
the one who are the raspberries
out of my hands.
The jaguars who slowly sneak
up on the antelope to have a
feast with their kits. The coyotes
sneaking around with their eyes and a nose
to seek dinner. You always have to
feast or catch dinner in the wild.
So how would I survive as a
snake or coyote, possibly even a jaguar?
Ode to Football
who brought me my
which we picked
out at Walmart.
I first griped
the soft, leather ball
as I was taught
I gazed at the ball
as it floated through
the air on a cloud,
and at that moment,
I was in love
with the sport.
And I play the satisfying
sport to this day.
The moral of my ode:
the angelic sport
can be played
anytime with friends
The time I first felt snow
The first time
I ever got to
see snow was
when I was five.
The cold winter
air was hitting
my face. The
under my feet.
the first time
I knew what
vision of the
Ode to Texas
was its name,
where my mother
lived, where she
climbed trees, where
Ramay Junior High
Dates of Visit: Oct 20-21
Faculty Sponser: Sarah Brown
Grade Level: 7th & 8th
Appx. Number Students Served: 320
Visiting Writers: Kait Yates, Caitlin Plante, Elizabeth Muscari, Erin Pinkham, Alys Dutton, Sylvia Foster, Sam Campbell, Sarah Barch, Shalini Rana, Kate Davis, Louise Cole, Bailey McKinney