The Sandcastle

One must have the mind of a sandcastle

by a blue sea on the rough sand.

A child is playing on the sand.

You might find something strange

in the sand. Incredible.

The thing could be a shark.

Most of all, sharks

need water to breathe.

It’s funny to be a castle

in the sand because

the water rushes at you

and pulls you back to sea.

In Allison’s Head

There is a dream of playing
tag on the
playground
And a horse bunny
that hops and gallops
in underpants.
There is a morning
of playing Barbies
with her sister.
There is a mysterious machine.
and a plan to be happy.

My Goddess

My name is Destiny.
I’m in charge of lava.
I shout it when I’m
mad. I’m queen of
lava mountains. I have
lava. Everything I own
is made of lava.
Lava comes out from my
fingers. My hair is red,
and all I wear is lava.
Pink. Someone touches me,
they will turn into stone
and burn.

Flower Painting

Just outside the frame a
lady is putting makeup on,
a man is fixing his tie, a
car is waiting outside.
The flowers wait and wait
and wait to be watered. They
worry that the lady and the
man won’t come back till midnight.
The clock strikes midnight,
they hear the door rattling,
the couple steps in. They
don’t notice the flowers.
Days pass then weeks
and the flowers have
not been watered since
Friday May 2nd, the flowers are sad.
Sunday May 26th the petals
from the flowers start to fall.
The flowers feel sick, some of
them are sad, some friends died.
Monday June 1st the flowers
are brown. The lady comes in,
she sees the flowers, in go
the flowers into the stinky
smelly trash can.
It was the end
of the flowers. They
no longer sit in the red
vase on the living room table.

Spring

The buds
of pansies
blossom
in the
muddy field
on a spring
mountain, as a butterfly
arcs
over a
blossoming rainbow
The spring breeze
picks up
dark clouds roll
in
A fawn
runs
for cover
A thin
mist begins to
rise
Water beats down on the
forest.

My Magic Box

I would put into the box
friendship bracelets, red roses,
a bit of my friend’s hair.
I would also put my favorite
pictures, and sand from
the beach in Mexico.
I would put all that in a shiny
gold box with shooting stars
on it. I would also put my doll
that I got for my birthday.
I would put in a dolphin
and my baby brother, too.

Child of the First Daughter and the Last Son

ITS) Celebrates Kids–in their own Words

My Bee

My bee’s stinger is a sharp pencil that writes stories about stinging.
Her black stripes make the night come.
Her buzz calls other insects to her when she’s bored.
My bee’s legs are lollipops that steal nectar from flowers.
Her fur is fuzzy fire to keep her warm in winter.
At night she dreams she is a great, red robin who eats worms.
Her snowy wings help her fly through the sky.
by Allissa, 1st grade
Photo by LadyDragonflyCC via Flickr

This poem is featured as part of the 2011 A Poem A Day campaign, a National Poetry Month celebration by WITS that features a different poem by a WITS student every day during April. Click on the logo to the left to learn more.

April 8, 2011 – 8:30 am Categories: animal, national poetry month, nature, poem a day, poetry, writing | Comments (1)

What Words Can Be

Words can be sour
like a pickle or
sweet like sugar.
Words can roar
like a motor or
vanish like magic.
Words can be warm
like a mitten or
hot like the sun.
Words can be memorable
like the friend your
heart once had.
by Hana, 3rd grade 




This poem is featured as part of the 2011 A Poem A Day campaign, a National Poetry Month celebration by WITS that features a different poem by a WITS student every day during April. Click on the logo to learn more.  

April 7, 2011 – 8:30 am Categories: poem a day, poetry, writers in the schools, writing | Post a comment Tagged national poetry month |

Green

What is Green?
Is it the fresh cut grass or the lime in your tea?
Does it feel like the powder when you put your makeup on?
Green is life.
Looking at the bright green field makes you root for your team.
The celery in
your hand.
The green water.
Listen.
Wait.
Splash!
Seeing an island as the green kingdom where
Green trees with leaves blow
silently in the
wind.
Money crackling in your hand. You’re on top of the world.
This is green.
by Ananda, 5th grade
Photo By Kit Keat via Flickr


This poem is featured as part of the 2011 A Poem A Day campaign, a National Poetry Month celebration by WITS that features a different poem by a WITS student every day during April. Click on the logo to the left to learn more.

April 6, 2011 – 8:30 am Categories: art, national poetry month, nature, poem a day, writers in the schools | Post a comment Tagged color poem, national poetry month |

Child of the First Daughter and the Last Son

I am from the pink ribbons,
the hot delicious coffee.
I am from the back deck.
I am from the purple roses,
the beautiful blue lake.
I am from the traditional everyday home-cooked meals
and the stubbornness that runs in my blood.
My parents are the first daughter and the last son
So I am from the respect your elders and don’t talk to strangers.
Still, I am from a less than pious family.
I am from the blue waters and spicy shrimp and greens —–
I am from Casper the ghost and winter —o.k.
Summer trips to the beach.

I am from the black long box containing childhood pictures of my family and good memories.

Green

What is Green?
Is it the fresh cut grass or the lime in your tea?
Does it feel like the powder when you put your makeup on?
Green is life.
Looking at the bright green field makes you root for your team.
The celery in
your hand.
The green water.
Listen.
Wait.
Splash!
Seeing an island as the green kingdom where
Green trees with leaves blow
silently in the
wind.
Money crackling in your hand. You’re on top of the world.
This is green.

What Words Can Be

Words can be sour
like a pickle or
sweet like sugar.

Words can roar
like a motor or
vanish like magic.

Words can be warm
like a mitten or
hot like the sun.

Words can be memorable
like the friend your
heart once had.

My Bee

My bee’s stinger is a sharp pencil that writes stories about stinging.
Her black stripes make the night come.
Her buzz calls other insects to her when she’s bored.
My bee’s legs are lollipops that steal nectar from flowers.
Her fur is fuzzy fire to keep her warm in winter.
At night she dreams she is a great, red robin who eats worms.
Her snowy wings help her fly through the sky.