Translate

Thursday, April 24, 2014

ARROWS By Tai, age 12 & Daniel, age 10


Arrows
By Tai  Luu & 
Daniel Briseno

Three people 
shooting 
arrows at me.
Only one way out. 
I ran across the deck
and jumped 
over the rails 
into the ocean
A triangle 
sliced through the surface
I tried to pull my gun 
from my pocket.
But I was too slow. 
I was dead.
I was reborn
at the edge of 
a pit. 
I looked down.
Lava 
oozed 
through the dirt. 

Thursday, April 17, 2014

STUFFED RABBIT by Jessica, age 10



Its rainbow-spattered tie 
used to hypnotize me. 
Ears flopping over its face,
eyes reflecting the sun, 
blue fur like powdery snow.
Now 
another child hugs it 
against his chest.
I thought I lost it 
but I 
found out 
that my mom
took it to
Goodwill.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

WHISTLE by Ricardo, age 9
















On a string
around my neck,
its color brightens my chest.
Small enough to hide in my pocket, 
its tweeting invades my mind.
I drop it.
It breaks into pieces on the ground.
I put it back 
together with glue.
I blow it again
but now its sound
is broken.