Desert Prison (September 12, 2020)
Desert Prison By Peri Gordon, 10 Water is gold in the desert It’s a superhero Or the last ticket to the show that is life. I’ve been lost here for days A prisoner in an...
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Desert Prison By Peri Gordon, 10
Water is gold in the desert It’s a superhero Or the last ticket to the show that is life. I’ve been lost here for days A prisoner in an endless jail. The desert is a jail. The lack of water is the executioner. I am at its mercy. The search for water is my final trial. Then what is water?
The Serpent A great shining, metallic blue coil slithered in the river. You could clearly make out the figure in the sparkling, clear water. The thing’s eyes were icy fire, seeming to pierce everything it looked at. It had a snake body with small fins that looked like wings and more on its head that looked like a crown. It obviously thought very much of itself from the way he moved. He was king.
He runs with his sneakers kicking up gravel, his knees pumping, his hips and chest drawn out with sharp intakes of breath. He is a free man, he is a slave who has broken his shackles and left them in my hands. He is a butterfly who has first sprouted his wings. Once before, he lived as a creature, squirming and writing in my fingers. Could hardly get out of his own way. But he’s liberated now.
Let’s get up and rise,
Fight for equal rights,
Why are we so silent?
Let’s go marching ahead
and voice for Black Lives
Let’s awaken our souls,
And think about the courageous Martin Luther King Jr.,
who preached and practiced about freedom and equal rights.
Let’s keep on going,
onto the road for justice,
which Floyd has left us to realize.
Invasion
Luca Butler, 12
It began from some bats
They say
It will pass with time
They say
Stay indoors
Dont go outside
They say
In China it began
Some panic ahead
No one knew
It would come to this
They ran
They hid
But soon it spread
Everywhere there's panic
Not knowimg what to do
There’s nowhere to hide
There’s nowhere to
It is everywhere
People are sick
Some are dying
...
Write a poem inspired by a Miró painting. (Hint: it can be as silly as you want it to be, and probably won’t make sense.)
Writing Workshop, September 12, 2020, on metaphor
Flying By Sophia Tucker
Lily Lang was sitting in the metro, listening to some music when she noticed an advertisement on the top of the wall that read: “Miri Noel provides the best piano lessons which will bring your music to life, with your listeners flying in the air!
Leaves twirled through the air, their edges curled as if singed by fire, their vibrant colors beaming as though they were fire. They touched the ground with the grace of a ballet dancer, and then sat silent, waiting for the wind to blow them along.
In the night, their color faded with the rest of the day, and they were merely dark silhouettes, phantoms that crept up from the ground.
Haiku 1 The sun fades away Blocked by the smoke, empty yet vague God pray this phase ends Haiku 2 The smoke is now Zeus Air quality unhealthy Will time please reverse? Haiku 3 Ash is falling down They’re balls of worthlessness-Ants Please get out of here
September, the month when seasons change, When emerald leaves turn to burnt copper. A lonely breeze meandering, like a lonely child, pining for home. September, when I open the cracked timber door, that broken piece of my mother’s best china; September, when my dreams, my treasures, Are crushed and shattered to the ground.