Thursday, October 20, 2016
Wednesday, October 19, 2016
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
Thursday, October 6, 2016
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
The sun shines on the jungle.
It is full of trees and sticks. The weather is warm.
The dust flies in the air.
The leaves fall
down from the trees.
It is morning time.
The birds are flying through the branches.
The sunlight is splashing on the ground.
The wind blows and the leaves swoosh.
The water is warm and the leaves are wet. The air tastes like dust.
A man cuts the trees down. The stick drifts on the water.
Some of the trees
shade the ground.
The sun shines on half of the trees and half of them are shaded.
Here is the same piece as a graphic poem!
Thursday, September 29, 2016
Jumping and Falling
The boys try to kick the ball,
jumping and falling.
Grass waves through the dirt.
Dust floats through the air.
The sky is a little bit cloudy.
I wonder if god is real.
What if I was a singer on this soccer field?
My voice would echo.I would feel nervous.
Little dots of brown water fly through the air.
One of the soccer ball’s pentagon-shaped patches
The kids run on mud and a little bit of grass.
They stand in a line
for a second.
The goal post’s thick dark red-brown
wood waits for the ball.
The gray sky makes it look like they are playing in a cave.
I can hear splashing water and wind.
The ball is drifting through the air.
The mud splatters on the ground.
The grass sways around the goal post.
The heat waves the air.
I am afraid of getting hit by the ball and slipping.
I am thankful because I am not there to hit my head.
I wonder where that place is.
What if a bear came and no one was there but the kids?
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
The Sky Blooms with Light
Leaves drift through
Balloon-shaped clouds levitate
above the sun
the sky blooms with light.
up and down.
The rainbow is tired from
bending its back
An arc of colors
reflects onto my gray
Rain drops trickleonto the field of grass.
About the Author
My name is Katie. I am nine years old. I live in San Francisco with my mom, dad, brother Khenny, and my new born baby sister. When I grow up I want to be a fashion designer. I design with my friends. We have a notebook full of dresses that we drew. I love reading. My favorite sports are gymnastics, dance, swimming, and football. At home we speak English but my mom is from Laos. I went there when I was little and again when I was eight. I am also the author of the poem, “Frozen in a Row” and the graphic mini-novels, Halfway There and Backwards.
Feathery leaves swoop
past their trunks and
the path with warm colors.
They pile up on the
and dance on them.
with milk chocolate
twirls in the air,
a handful of stems
onto a little
them away and
they flutter around the
drifting in waves
above the branches:
lingering in the air
onto the grass, lying down
About the Author
Hi! My name is Vanessa. I am eight years old. I live with my mom, dad, and my two younger sisters. My family comes from Vietnam. I have been there many times. I remember that at night mosquitoes would bite me. I speak English and Vietnamese at home. I am also the author of the the mini-graphic novel Super-novaman and the poems, "Buzz Buzz Flutter Flick," "Nail Salon," "Three Months From Now," and "Jellyfish." My dream vacation would be a trip to Hawaii.
Thursday, September 8, 2016
Not a Crash
By Jack Lawrence
The yellow and gray striped building's shadow looms over the soccer field.
He squeezes the ball between his ankles, tossing it up to space.
It’s a moon.
His arms swing by his sides, his fingers spread like webs.
His left ankle lifts the black and white globe and his right heel kicks it.
He bends his knee into a V.’
The ball arcs through the air.
Now it’s a rainbow.
The kids yell, “Oohhh!” The ball lands in front of him like a meteorite.
Not a crash,but with a quiet thump.
Friday, August 19, 2016
By Jack, Misu, Timothy, Binh & Angelina
Bottles jailed in plastic linger on the shelf, and tubes of glue dangle from the ceiling.
Cans of spray paint roost in cabinets
like sleeping canaries.
Behind the counter,
the owner’s teeth
sink into a chunk of apple.
Light pours onto her cheekbone,
eyes lock on the unknown.
tape measures hang like
spiders from silk.