Category: Submissions

Poem submissions parent category

Bacon

My teacher said to write a poem
But my pencil was stolen
And my fingers are swollen
So my poem is unspoken
My pencil just broke
While I’m drinking a coke
And I’m telling jokes
About my folks
And I’m losing hope
So I’m going to finish my poem
My pencil wasn’t taken
And I also like bacon
And I don’t want to go to Akins

She Was

She was the girl that no one noticed
The girl that sits in the background.
She was the girl that spent her time reading
While all the other girls went into town.
She was the girl that ate by herself
Would sometimes starve herself too.
She was the girl that needed money
While the other girls wasted theirs on shoes.
She was the girl that never went to parties
Nobody invited her anyway.
She was the girl that nobody cared about
Which is why the girl is here no more.

La Isla

La isla tiene arena y el sol es caliente.
Hay agua refrescante.
En el mar, el agua es azul.
Y hay Palmas,
Pero quiero ir con calma
El agua brilla.
El sol igual.
La luna llena es linda.
Sin tardar,
Tengo que regresar.
Las estrellas se reflejan en el mar.
Sin más tardar,
Hace frio y el viento suena.
Es tiempo de dormir.

Sol

Sol, eres una esfera luminosa
parece que estás cubierto de oro
brillante. Eres tan gigante,
que yo quisiera abrazarte. Quiero
que ilumines siempre el planeta
y compartas un poco tu tesoro.
Tus rayos de luz, todos los días
son mi fuente de energía.
Sol, eres tan radiante,
que no puedo siquiera
mirarte. Y tan caliente que
iluminas toda mi mente.
Sol resplandeciente, que
le das luz a toda la gente.
Eres tan importante,
que cuanto quisiera yo
pagarte,
con monedas de oro
y muchos diamantes.

Barbara Jordan ECP

First Grade Bilingual

If Racism Was a Natural Disaster

It’d be a drought
the cracked ground we walk on,
the beating sun pushing us down.
“But it rained a couple of times,”
they tell us, while the heat
is scorching our skin
and dust is in our eyes.
“Get over it,” they tell us
from their green watered lawns.

We sit in the sun baking for generations
waiting for the forever rain,
no trees to protect us.
The trees were never there to protect us.

Fulmore Middle School

8

Home

Kenya
A busy, bustling place
My beautiful country
Oh, how I’ve missed you
Oh, how you’ve changed in these six years
Yet I remember the scent of heavy spices and roasted corn
The soft, crumbling ground after the rain
Everywhere you go people talking
To each other in community before my eyes
The complex beauty of languages twisted
Within each other resounding through the town
The rush of everyone with places to be
So many nights I have spent longing to be
With all of my true family
Nyumbani
Yenye nguo na rangi za kupendeza
Ninakupenda sana
Nakushikilia kwenye nafsi ya moyo wangu
Kwa Kunikaribisha mimi kama binti yako
Wewe ni chanzo cha uzazi wangu

Home
So vibrant and colorful
I love you so much
You have a place in my heart
welcoming me as your daughter
for you are my motherland

Fulmore Middle School

8

The Heart Hears Music

Fallen light slipping through the grasp of leaves, littering the ground
Violet flowers dance across the speechless grass
The soothing smell of honeysuckle floats through the air like a pixie
A lake, standing still, peacefully smiles
Oar dips, sending ripples of life
From an old rusting boat
In the forest the ears may hear silence,
But the heart hears music

Lamar Middle School

6