Tuesday, July 21, 2015


Check out some more works of literary art by our resident poets. Stay tuned for the final volume!

The House by Elle

The trampoline says the kids jump high; the door full with reminders says the kids are very busy.
The broken door handle says that we slam the door when we are in a rush. 
The worn out pool says they swim all day, and the playground says that we play until our arms hurt.
The messy desks say that we work hard in school and a home; the dirty cars say that we do lots of driving. 
The new house says that we will have more memories than ever.   

A poem by Steffi

She sat nervously down on the ground
The square tiles encountered her looking at her instructor, and she did as she was told.
The dripping wet suit, even more wet now, says she splashed into the pool.

The flimsy diving board saw her slowly getting out of the water 
The ticking clock said she was looking quite nervous as she put the rest of the gear on. 

The bubbles emerging showed that she was breathing heavily,
The surface of the water felt disrupted after the bubbles had emerged.   

The clock watched as she moved quite quickly, like clouds on a windy day.
Her fins weakened as her feet kicked nervously.

The sides of the pool watched as she took her regulator out of her mouth--
The life preserver now figured out that more struggles were about to come.

The dripping hose noticed that she was being watched by her instructor
The clock figured out that she might not be able to move on. 

The drain on the ground in the floor gazed upon achievement
The lights on the ceiling cheered as she high-fived her instructor and heard that she passed her test.
The doors opened and glared at the cheerful smiles of the group.

The Attic by Hope 

The mess and the disorganization with the dust piling and piling says she doesn’t mind the disaster.
The musty small says she loves old things; the suitcases say she has not left the country for a long time.
The books all neatly in a cupboard, the authors together one by one 
Say she loves to read. 
But the books are all dusty and one can barely see the title showing

She is getting too old to go back up to the attic 

The House by Sophia

The house was huge said the large, empty space. The carpets were dirty said the dust piling up.
The grass was growing said the buds in the soil.
The food was going bad said the refrigerator.
Everyday is night said the bats in the attic. The window is open on the third floor said the swaying curtains.
There are scratch marks on the door said the newly adopted puppy waiting for her owner to get back.
The mail flag went up said the mailbox. The door opened said the owner of the newly adopted puppy and house.

A poem by Scott

The vacant couch says no one is there; the empty chair explains that everyone is outside.
The clothes in the drawers say that he puts stuff away; the lack of posters and knick-knacks say that there’s a person who doesn’t make a mess.
The garage says that everything is hidden here. The car sitting there tells us the people are home.
The many trees say that they like to keep their house cool on a sunny afternoon
The people within are happy.

A poem by Karina

A dog sleeps under a desk; the desk has books scattered across its surface: Harry Potter, Percy Jackson and some graphic novels suggesting that the girl at the desk likes to read.
A paper having the faint outline of a story and a drawing pad with a quick sketch of a dragon say that she’s an artist and a writer, but the eraser’s size shows she disapproves of her art—shows she has plans.
The textbooks are scattered on the floor, math, spelling, science, reading—the list could go on, yet the books seem loved at the same time.
She loves her online school says the computer. She also likes video games say the wii; Smash bros seems the most used.
A cat in a room, the dolls unused, the make-up unwanted. The desk in this room has Legos scattered across it; not Lego friends, but Ninjago. 
This is the life of one out of many.

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