Thoroughly happy
Everyday's fun
Definitly cheerful
Devoted
Yipipeeeeeeeeee!!!
about the poet:
Teddy
age 13
Wilmington, De.
.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Poem by Mac
I SEE THE DAYS
I see the grass against the water,
I see a son, I see a daughter.
I see the sun shine in your eyes,
I see the sun shine on the rise.
The days of love, the days of merry,
The days my heart will always carry.
The days of hope, the days of wonder,
The haze of good I’m always under.
I see the grass against the water,
I see a son, I see a daughter.
I see the sun shine in your eyes,
I see the sun shine on the rise.
The days of love, the days of merry,
The days my heart will always carry.
The days of hope, the days of wonder,
The haze of good I’m always under.
by Mac
November 2005
age 13 at time of composition
Phoenixville, PA
Poem by Liam
THE BLACK ROBE
The rain fell down upon my face
And put a shiver down my spine.
I put up my umbrella and walked through the night.
In the dark, I couldn’t tell which house was mine.
And then a figure in a dark, black robe
All of a sudden in front of me stood.
I couldn’t see a face through the thickness of night
And the shadow of the dark, black hood.
I took a step back – it didn’t move.
I thought if I ran it might go away.
But then it raised a hand and gave a wave.
It seemed to have nothing to say.
I waved back and took a step forward
And then took another step, too.
But slowly and gently the figure vanished
Into the cold evening dew.
The rain fell down upon my face
And put a shiver down my spine.
I put up my umbrella and walked through the night.
In the dark, I couldn’t tell which house was mine.
The rain fell down upon my face
And put a shiver down my spine.
I put up my umbrella and walked through the night.
In the dark, I couldn’t tell which house was mine.
And then a figure in a dark, black robe
All of a sudden in front of me stood.
I couldn’t see a face through the thickness of night
And the shadow of the dark, black hood.
I took a step back – it didn’t move.
I thought if I ran it might go away.
But then it raised a hand and gave a wave.
It seemed to have nothing to say.
I waved back and took a step forward
And then took another step, too.
But slowly and gently the figure vanished
Into the cold evening dew.
The rain fell down upon my face
And put a shiver down my spine.
I put up my umbrella and walked through the night.
In the dark, I couldn’t tell which house was mine.
by Liam
November 2005
age 13 at time of composition
Phoenixville, PA
Poem by Mac
WAVES
Heavy waves against the sand
Heavy time is the time at hand
Heavy days are the days to start
Heavy love is the love at heart
Each day the waves against the sand
Each love is the love at hand
Each time is the time to start
Each wave is a wave to the heart
by Mac
November 2005
age 13 at time of composition
Phoenixville, PA
Heavy waves against the sand
Heavy time is the time at hand
Heavy days are the days to start
Heavy love is the love at heart
Each day the waves against the sand
Each love is the love at hand
Each time is the time to start
Each wave is a wave to the heart
by Mac
November 2005
age 13 at time of composition
Phoenixville, PA
Poem by Liam
THE LONELY WOMAN
She set out the plates
She set out the dates
She straightened the dining chair.
Getting ready to dine
She set out the wine
And polished the silverware.
Then she lit a candle
And, holding the handle,
She served food from a pot.
With a napkin to fold
And a blessing to be told
She made sure the food wasn’t too hot.
She called that the spaghetti
Was warm and ready
And people could come take a seat.
Then she said the blessing
And passed round the dressing
And then she began to eat.
She began to sup
And swallow wine up
But then she gave a great groan.
For she didn’t hear a sound
And when she looked around
She realized she was dining alone.
She set out the plates
She set out the dates
She straightened the dining chair.
Getting ready to dine
She set out the wine
And polished the silverware.
Then she lit a candle
And, holding the handle,
She served food from a pot.
With a napkin to fold
And a blessing to be told
She made sure the food wasn’t too hot.
She called that the spaghetti
Was warm and ready
And people could come take a seat.
Then she said the blessing
And passed round the dressing
And then she began to eat.
She began to sup
And swallow wine up
But then she gave a great groan.
For she didn’t hear a sound
And when she looked around
She realized she was dining alone.
by Liam
November 2005
age 13 at time of composition
Phoenixville, PA
Poem by Jared
Seasons
Fall is when we have bald trees.
We jump into piles of crunchy leaves.
Winter is cold and winter is chilly.
We can make snowmen that look really silly.
Spring is not hot and spring is not cold.
It is a mixture of both, I am told.
Summer is hot and just the right spot.
We can put up the pool and there is no school.
Summer is the season for me!
(It is because of my birthday, you see!)
Fall is when we have bald trees.
We jump into piles of crunchy leaves.
Winter is cold and winter is chilly.
We can make snowmen that look really silly.
Spring is not hot and spring is not cold.
It is a mixture of both, I am told.
Summer is hot and just the right spot.
We can put up the pool and there is no school.
Summer is the season for me!
(It is because of my birthday, you see!)
by Jared
Grade 2
Broomall, PA
Poem by Alex
The Ballad of King John
N ow once upon a time
(before people learned to rhyme)
there lived a large king,
who was a very fat and bulbous looking thing.
He went by the name of John,
though his hometown was Milan.
When he walked, he had a little jiggle
that made most people almost want to giggle.
It was rumored he had a long nose,
that people said could touch his tippy tip toes
though no one found out for sure,
whether this story was truth or lore.
But after reaching the ears of King John,
he was so embarrassed, and was forced to go back to Milan.
If you like to tell untruths, too,
remember the harm they can do!
So, bite your lip, and don’t gossip.
Remember King John of Milan.
N ow once upon a time
(before people learned to rhyme)
there lived a large king,
who was a very fat and bulbous looking thing.
He went by the name of John,
though his hometown was Milan.
When he walked, he had a little jiggle
that made most people almost want to giggle.
It was rumored he had a long nose,
that people said could touch his tippy tip toes
though no one found out for sure,
whether this story was truth or lore.
But after reaching the ears of King John,
he was so embarrassed, and was forced to go back to Milan.
If you like to tell untruths, too,
remember the harm they can do!
So, bite your lip, and don’t gossip.
Remember King John of Milan.
by Alex
Grade 5
Broomall, PA
*
Narrative Poem by Madison
Two Sides of a Fence
The anticipation of the roaring crowds can be heard for miles.
One hour, 30 minutes, 15 minutes.... BOOM!
The loud bangs as the metal gates slam open.
Like a bowling ball making a strike.
The nervous gasps of the crowd vibrating through the air.
The massive beast approaches.
The sound of gravel scratches against the metal fences, that
separate those who watch, and those who dare.
For a spilt second I fear for my life.
The rider falls.
The rodeo clown races to do his job.
The cowboy brushes dust from himself,
And limps away.
by
Maidson
age 12
The anticipation of the roaring crowds can be heard for miles.
One hour, 30 minutes, 15 minutes.... BOOM!
The loud bangs as the metal gates slam open.
Like a bowling ball making a strike.
The nervous gasps of the crowd vibrating through the air.
The massive beast approaches.
The sound of gravel scratches against the metal fences, that
separate those who watch, and those who dare.
For a spilt second I fear for my life.
The rider falls.
The rodeo clown races to do his job.
The cowboy brushes dust from himself,
And limps away.
Maidson
age 12
*
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Haiku by Owen, Cole, Quinn & Mary
October Walk
The leaves are falling
The bright blue sky is endless
We love the brisk air.
The leaves are falling
The bright blue sky is endless
We love the brisk air.
about:
"Our first Haiku"
October 2007
Owen - 12
Cole - 10
Quinn - 8
Mary - mom
Philadelphia, Pa.
"Our first Haiku"
October 2007
Owen - 12
Cole - 10
Quinn - 8
Mary - mom
Philadelphia, Pa.
*
Two Clerihew Poems by Owen, Cole, Quinn & Mary
Jackson Pollack
A painter whose paint seems to frolic
His large canvases were full of color
Some people look at them and say, "Oh Brother"
Lemony Snicket
An author who did not write about Jiminey Cricket
He wrote about orphans in dire straits
Who always pulled more than their weight
A painter whose paint seems to frolic
His large canvases were full of color
Some people look at them and say, "Oh Brother"
Lemony Snicket
An author who did not write about Jiminey Cricket
He wrote about orphans in dire straits
Who always pulled more than their weight
about:
"Our First Clerihews"
Fall 2007
Owen - 12
Cole - 10
Quinn - 8
Mary - mom
Philadelphia, Pa
"Our First Clerihews"
Fall 2007
Owen - 12
Cole - 10
Quinn - 8
Mary - mom
Philadelphia, Pa
*
Poem by Cole
My Puppy
My puppy is cute and rather fluffy
He loves to roll around all day
With a hint of liver
he is as obedient as a retriever
With a face that will make you happy
By day, by day
By month, by month
By year, by year.
This is my puppy I hope you like him
Now here he is enjoy him!
My puppy is cute and rather fluffy
He loves to roll around all day
With a hint of liver
he is as obedient as a retriever
With a face that will make you happy
By day, by day
By month, by month
By year, by year.
This is my puppy I hope you like him
Now here he is enjoy him!
About the poet:
S. Cole
age 10
1/30/08
Philadelphia, Pa
S. Cole
age 10
1/30/08
Philadelphia, Pa
*
Three Poems by Quinn
Stars
When the moon comes up
Stars fill the night
Hovering over the mountains and
streams and river
Filling up the night
Sunset
When sunset is happening
Night is near
The last light of day is here.
Night
Day and night is like a breath
In day the breath is let out
At night the breath is held in.
The best part about night
Is that it will be day soon.
When the moon comes up
Stars fill the night
Hovering over the mountains and
streams and river
Filling up the night
Sunset
When sunset is happening
Night is near
The last light of day is here.
Night
Day and night is like a breath
In day the breath is let out
At night the breath is held in.
The best part about night
Is that it will be day soon.
About the Poet:
Quinn
age 8
Philadelphia, Pa
April 2008
Quinn
age 8
Philadelphia, Pa
April 2008
*
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Cat ~ A,B,Cs
by Billie Rose
A cat said meow, and a
Balloon went pop. The
Cat put back in her claws.
Dashing away.
Easy she said,
Flashing her claws,
Grinding her teeth.
Hearing it pop,
Instantly she
Jumped
Kitty is not happy.
Laughing, no way!
Making a balloon brake is
Not the fun way!
Of course it's not.
Popping a balloon is
Quite a lot of
Racket!
Silence is what I like.
Terrifying is loud.
Unless you get far, far, away.
Vigilance is
What you need.
X is pops, no way, no how.
Yeast farming! Uh, uh!
Zebra chasing? I gave up that long ago!
*
about the poet:
Billie Rose
9 years old
Wilmington, De
A cat said meow, and a
Balloon went pop. The
Cat put back in her claws.
Dashing away.
Easy she said,
Flashing her claws,
Grinding her teeth.
Hearing it pop,
Instantly she
Jumped
Kitty is not happy.
Laughing, no way!
Making a balloon brake is
Not the fun way!
Of course it's not.
Popping a balloon is
Quite a lot of
Racket!
Silence is what I like.
Terrifying is loud.
Unless you get far, far, away.
Vigilance is
What you need.
X is pops, no way, no how.
Yeast farming! Uh, uh!
Zebra chasing? I gave up that long ago!
*
about the poet:
Billie Rose
9 years old
Wilmington, De
*
Thursday, April 3, 2008
"My Mom and Dad" a poem by Hanna
My mom, my dad,
The best of friends.
I love them so
This I know
They're the best of fun
and I know it's so.
They share their fun
all around the world.
With God they roam.
The best of friends.
I love them so
This I know
They're the best of fun
and I know it's so.
They share their fun
all around the world.
With God they roam.
About the Poet:
Hanna
age 6
Wilmington, DE
Backstory:
written 1/27/08,
begun in the car,
finished in a grocery cart.
*
Hanna
age 6
Wilmington, DE
Backstory:
written 1/27/08,
begun in the car,
finished in a grocery cart.
*
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