MESS WITH THE BULL, GET THE HORNS! By Tony, age 9 & Binh, age 10

SUN SPLASH BY MUHAMMAD, AGE 8

Sun Splash

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!

JUMPING AND FALLING by Royal, age 8

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.

HERE IS THE SAME PIECE AS A GRAPHIC POEM!

KICKED by Sebastian, age 8

Kicked

Little dots of brown water fly through the air.

One of the soccer ball’s pentagon-shaped patches 

is missing. 

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?


HERE IS THE SAME PIECE AS A GRAPHIC POEM!

THE SKY BLOOMS WITH LIGHT by Katie, age 9

The Sky Blooms with Light

Leaves drift through

the open

window,

onto the

rug.

Balloon-shaped clouds levitate

above the sun

and  

the sky blooms with light.  

Branches sway

up and down.

The rainbow is tired from

bending its back

across the

glittery lagoon.

An arc of colors

reflects onto my gray

ceiling.

Rain drops trickle

onto 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.

Here is the same piece as a graphic poem:

  

LEAVES By Vanessa, age 9

LEAVES

Trees

stand still.

Feathery leaves swoop

past their trunks and

blanket

the path with warm colors.

They pile up on the

playground and

people crunch

and dance on them.

A woman

with milk chocolate

colored hair

twirls in the air,

scattering

a handful of stems

onto a little

boy’s face.

He rubs

them away and

they flutter around the

welcoming sky,

drifting in waves

above the branches:

fairies

flapping

their

wings,

lingering in the air

then dropping

onto the grass, lying down

and

smiling

at the

sunset.

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.

HERE IS THE SAME PIECE AS A GRAPHIC POEM:

NOT A CRASH by Jack, age 10

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.