7

Like a fallen star from the sky of elsewhere
He arrived
In a new place
A new country
A new home in a new sky
The person who was going to meet him
Wasn’t there
And he wondered if anyone was wishing
On him, the lone shining star
Standing alone in a train station

TELEVISIONMAN

By Rowan Dunfey
Richmond Middle School, Grade 7

And then,
as if a switch had flipped in his mind,
It dawned on him -
crashed down on him
like the world upon Atlas -
That he is just that man,
That television man
That bluesuithaircut television man
Who says what the teleprompter tells him to say
And feels what the teleprompter tells him to feel
That things are bad, but then again
He doesn't know bad like they do –
Only knows
It’s a lot worse
Than his bad –
But who knows?
When the world drops
off of the shoulders that have held it for so long
Will it be him that gets
Shaken off?

Anger

By Cora Sloan
Richmond Middle School, Grade 7

crept into the back of my mind
setting my eyes and my mouth
on fire
its eyes
making me clench my fists
its hands
making my mouth utter sharp words
stinging those
around me.

Dots

By Carter LaCrosse
Richmond Middle School, Grade 7

Dots.
The best thing in the world.
I love
that luscious smell
that chewy goo
and that scrumptious taste.

When I eat a Dot
I savor every moment
that the sweet taste
mixes with the liquids
of my mouth.

Dots
are my favorite candy
and they always will
be.

Our Real Mother

By Melanie Subbiah
Richmond Middle School, Grade 7

At age three,
I won the toddler marathon
and could outrun
a blowing leaf.
But no matter how fast
my chubby, young legs
could carry me
I could not escape
my fate.

The doctor said
my condition was unstable;
I would have to be
hospitalized for life.
My mother,
having six other children
to look after
and not wanting
a sick youngster around
when her friends
came to visit,
readily agreed.

The whitewashed walls
and shiny linoleum
covered by beeping machinery
are my home now,
but mostly my prison.
True, it is where
my heart lies
hooked up to a monitor
but it is not
where my spirit rests.

For only four days
every year
(one in every season)
I return to my family’s home,
which is no longer mine as well.
My mother
avoids me
and my siblings
cling to her
as though
I am a hideous beast.
Only nature
decorates itself for me
celebrating
my day of freedom.

In winter
crystalline confetti
tumbles
from the sky
and the hibernating world
is covered
in a soft downy blanket.
But the wind
is there
to cheer me on
with whoops and howls
as I breathe
the fresh air.

In spring
bright green blades
tickle
my feet
and delicate drops
bathe me
as I slosh
through Earth’s
new coat of skin
while birds
sing to me
of happiness.

In Summer,
nature’s great eye
gazes down at me
brilliant and glinting
from the sky
watching over me.
The only relief
from its piercing stare
is to plunge
into a cool pond
spray dancing
above me
as I splash
through the surface.

In Fall
sparks fall
from the trees
lighting the whole world
on fire
and warming
the frosty air
with vibrant
colors.
As I glide through the shadows
the wind embraces me
and I
feel safe.

Such beauty
as I see outdoors
I believe to be
the accomplishment
of a superhuman being
so powerful
when its wrath ensues
that it can destroy
whole cities.

Tests

By Ossia Dwyer
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 7

“OK, class. This test is meant to test your knowledge of the theories. I hope you studied!” says my perky yet highly annoying teacher. Does she really care if we do well or not?
I was hoping for a snow day or a fever or malaria. I would have studied really hard and even maybe paid attention in class but the hottest guy sits right in front of me. I spent all yesterday night talking to him online. How was I supposed to study? Does my teacher not know anything about teenagers? Maybe I will be able to just conjure it up. OK, 2x+72>3x-12, solve for x. Is faking a seizure too dramatic? I know. I will fake a headache, then wander around the building. Oh great, the teacher noticed I wasn’t working. She is walking over here. Concentrate.
“An emergency has been reported in this building!! Please cease operation and leave, utilizing the nearest exit or fire exit!!” came onto the speakers, blasting our eardrums out. I ran out of the room as fast as I could. Anything to get out of that test and try to study or sleep.

Tests

By Ashley Bailey
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 7

I look down. The numbers make no sense. (A = 2.5 so what is the answer to 2.65 x A = ?) What does that mean? I hate tests. Hate them, hate them, hate them. I get nervous and sweaty. My hand is shaking as I write the answer down. Great. I bet it’s wrong. Oh well, I keep going, and going, and going. Everything around me is blurry like a two-year-old came up and smudged the colors. The bell rings. I am almost done. Last question and then I am finished. Now I am relieved. No more to worry about…except the results of my test!

This Sweet Pie

By Tommy Bowen
Benson Village School, Grade 7

This sweet pie
It smells so very delicious
It smells as good as
The summer breeze
When I go closer
It feels like I have discovered
A chest full of treasure
I see it now
On the windowsill
It steams
Like a nice warm bath
Ready to get into
I have a piece
It makes me feel warm
Loved
Like a mother with her new child
This sweet pie

A Lost Friend

By Julie Curran
Main Street Middle School, Grade 7

The wind pushed the empty swing next to her. She was haunted by
memories of the girl who was once always right beside her. She
remembered all the times when they had sat there and talked for
hours, laughing and joking. Or other times when they would just be
there for each other and talk everything through. But she was gone
now. She had found someone else to hang out with, to talk to, to
comfort. She felt like she had just been punched in the stomach,
but the feeling lasted for longer. A tear rolled down her
cheek as the sky starting spitting. Too absorbed in her thoughts to
start the lonely walk home, she sat there, drenched all the way
through. She waited. Wishing. Wondering. What happened?

I hope you learn

By Naomi Grayck
Main Street Middle School, Grade 7

I hope you learn
learn to love
I hope you learn to see
see that we can't live without you
I hope you learn to sing
sing for all the world to hear
I hope you learn to laugh
laugh so we can laugh along with you
I hope you learn to look
look around and see all you can possibly see
I hope you learn that
people are people all
living, breathing and feeling
people who will cry, laugh
and hurt
same as you
but all I can do is hope
you and only you can make it come true.

Sound of Dad's Guitar

By Kayla Richardsoon
Main Street Middle School, Grade 7

I walk in the apartment.
I hear something
Something I haven't heard in a year.
It's the sound of Dad's guitar.
I forgot how much I miss that sound
That loud metal heavy rock sound.
It fills my ears and gives me joy.
I've always found it soothing
But I don't know why.
It's just something I love.
I smile to myself, and listen
To the sound of Dad's guitar.

Flawless

By Jaime Thomas
Crossett Brook Middle School, Grade 7

Flawless is a word of potential integrity, which can and cannot be as soft as a brook in

spring, water flowing through the gentle grasp of the mossy stones, or as light as a feather

falling from the sky from an eagle of great wits. Flawless is a moment of inferences

from one or another’s greatest wishes, desires, or successful accomplishments. Flawless

is a light which is at the end of oncoming thoughts that will drift away in your wildest

daydreams. But in many circumstances flawless is a flaw itself, for it can never be perfect.

The Leaf

By Kalin McGowan
Lyme Elementary School, Grade 7

The leaf swirls around

Happy

Sauntering by the tree

Waving.

The leaf is free

To do whatever it wants

Like a child free from its parents

It’s delighted

Cruising around.

The leaf dances

A form of ballet

Now gymnastics

Flips and sommersaults

Cartwheels

Handstands

Headstands

Back rolls

Free, free at last.

Then the winds dies down

And the leaf abruptly stops

In midair

Then it slowly falls

D

O

W

N

To the ground

Just lying in the sun

Tanning

Then no more ballet or gymnastics or fun

That is all gone

The leaf misses the tree

Its parent

The leaf is lonely

Sitting on the ground

Shivering

And starts to cry.

Leaves in the Wind

By Zach Estes
Lyme School, Grade 7

Acrobatic leaf comes
Bunging out of the sky
Lands in a perfect upright posture
Cartwheels up and down
The road
A gymnast of a sort
The leaf lunges upward only
To seconds later
Parachute downwards
To the ground
The leaf is then
Trapped in a cluster
Of newspaper
It squeezes its way out
Only to perform for the
World again

Ode to Farming

By Elijah Todd Davis
Home Schooled, Grade 7

I truly like our farm
But it’s the land that gives me charm.
To look out on a field
And think of the crop it will soon yield.
The layer of snow like an ocean
Though it’s never in motion.
To think of that celestial white
It gives me such delight
A delight needed to complete the work ahead
It lifts off my back a weight like lead
To get the cows up at three o’clock
For at times they can sleep like a rock!
This delight urges me on
Until the snow has up and gone.
There is no work like farming
Though I don’t find it alarming
That you have to be real tough to work
For this is something you can’t shirk.
Nothing beats living on a farm
For as my dad often states,
“Being on a farm teaches perspective,
And perspective is something over which
You should be protective.”
I believe what he says is true
Because farms these days are few
And to many this kind of life is new.
What I am getting at here
Is as farms slowly disappear
So does the meaning of work
It is now only something to shirk
And so does the meaning of perspective
It is something over which you no longer need to be protective.
Farm life is the life for me
Though bonded to work I feel free
If a door to life is shut, I always seem to have the key
No matter what comes my way
I can always get through the day.
Farming give you something more than perspective
It gives you two other things you need in life
It gives you experience, and from that
It gives you knowledge.
I don’t know about anybody else
No matter how much I can complain
As a farmer
You have everything to gain.
I truly wouldn’t have it any other way.
And now that this poem is ended
It’s all I can do to keep more ideas at bay.