Closet

Hands held,
She squeezed mine harder,
Up, Up, Up,
I can do this,
I think I can, I think I can,
She starts to sing a little tune,
Dum di dum dum,
She's trying to forget about it,
There's nothing up there,
Nothing is going to come and get us,
Together we can climb those long, long stairs,
I think I can,
I know I can,
Soon doors loomed,
Creaking stopped,
Lights flickered,

One morning I was with my friends playing paintball. We had already split into two different teams. Each team had five people on it. The enemy team was on the top of a hill, so we created a strategy. I would sneak around and take them from behind, wile two other teammates would come from the sides of the hill and the two remaining men would charge straight at the hill.

It is very dark
I keep all my clothes in there
it is a closet!

It was dark as I climbed the dark stairs to my bedroom. It was only me in the house since my parents were going to be out late.
"Creeek…"
I whipped around as I heard the stairs settling behind me. With my heart thumping, I continued back up. Outside and owl hooted. I screamed and it took off in a flurry of wings.

Closet of Colors

By Sarah Kendrick
Brattleboro Area Middle School, Grade 7

Open my closet
Red at the front
Leading the line of clothes
A rainbow looking up at me
Red, orange, yellow, green
Stripes, dots, and hearts
Blue, purple, pink
Arranged behind my closet door
A shower of colors parade in a line
Red at the front
Black, white, grey at the end
Hiding behind
Waiting to charge

Time to clean out the closet
I’ve been looking for that shirt
A book
A random shoe
A sock or two
A dollar!
A little ball
Boxes full of storage
Dishes
Kindergarten drawings
Memories
Photos
And the list goes on…

The Closet

By Patric Roberts
Hartford Memorial Middle School, Grade 7

In my own opinion, I don’t like to go in my closet. It’s not because it is a mess or there is a monster. Well, actually, there is sort of a monster. It’s my imaginary friend from when I was three. All my other imaginary friends disappeared, but this one is persistent.

Small Space, Big things

I pull open the door and what do I see
But pieces of myself staring back at me
Dresses of all sorts hang upon themselves
Stuffed bears and pillows are nestled on shelves
I peak to the right and painted on the wall
Is an image of a place that I once saw
The ocean waves crash and a palm tree looms
white sand is below and small flowers bloom

Closet Case

By Justinah Duhaime
Hartford High School, Grade 12

The rising sun shuffles his way
through the mist,
his thin blades of light search like a
turtle, in
and out of the cracks of my closet
door. I flinch,

a solitary blade slashes my eye,
illuminating
swollen tears before i once again
recoil to the
flightless feathers of my raven hair.
With my nails
scraping over my lap, I rock back
and forth like
the winter trees, shackled in needles
of ice that
scratch the pane of my window.

Both of us, so desperate to be free, to
no longer be
rooted to a speechless earth, seeing
our words
circle away like the leaves that die at
our feet.

Slowly, we reach out towards the
sun: opening the
closet door, shaking off the snow.
We cannot bare
the silence any longer. The world
will hear my
song, for I am a bird, towering
above the leaves.

Your wings carry- carried-
The weight of misfourtunes,
'Til they shattered
From that terrible weight.

Now your feet shall
Never leave this ground,
This cursed and tainted soil.
And what your wings once bore
So mine now do as well.

Now I hear
What you once heard,
Those cries of pain,
Those cries of fear,
Those cries of the lost, the abandoned.

Now I see
What you once saw,

By Heidi Keller
Woodstock Union High School, Grade 10

In a closet is where I’ll be,
The outside world just isn’t for me .
The enclosed space is where I hide,
My family just pretends I died.

I woke up this morning thinking, “Yes, it’s Christmas!” I looked out my window and everything was covered in white fluffy snow. I looked at my closet door. It was brown with white trim and a gold door knob. My closet door looked so peaceful in the light. I look at my clock, only eight; my parents wouldn’t even be up this early. I silently got out of bed and opened my door.

My closet is not equipped with the standard three walls and a door. This closet is my mind. A mind that is filled with haunted memories and tears that are frozen like ice in mid-air. It's something I truly do not wish to speak about, but I must inform you of the horrors it holds within. Creatures of the night and monsters of the past live inside its every crevice.

By Miranda Shepard
Rochester High School, Grade 9

My imaginary closet,
Is always very clean,
The carpet is made of white shag,
The walls are painted bright green.

It’s big enough to hold a football stadium,
But instead, clothes fill the room,
The lightings brightness is nearly blinding,
The smell always-sweet perfume.

It holds millions of dollars worth of jeans,
Mom says “way to many shirts,”
Countless numbers of pullovers,
And endless amount of skirts.

Shoes to match every outfit,
Many different color tank tops,
All sorts of leggings,
Most all from different shops.

There are many nice things to wear,
Everything a teenage girl has been wanting,
So many outfits to choose from,
The choices are nearly daunting.

There’s V-necks and turtlenecks,
A lot of colors in the same sweater,
Because of the price this closet costs,
My mom thinks drawers are better.

I open up the doors to my closet and I see…
Lots of Dust,
Roller blades,
Empty suitcases,
An old sewing machine,
My Moms wedding dress,
My old prom and winter ball dresses,
A box of all the books that my brothers and I made in elementary school,
A worn out rug that my Great Grandmother had made for my brothers and I,
…Lots of memories are kept safe behind my closet doors.

When I opened my closet, I was hit with the stench of my own guilt. I saw the man that I killed only a week ago. What had compelled me to kill him? Was it hate? Or pride? Was it an argument we had?

Closets

By Daphne Plante
Charlotte Central School - Grade 5

I open my closet
What do I see?
A ton of bags,
All the toys I don’t use,
A stray bear or two,
All my dad’s best clothing,
A toy harp,
A bookcase full of books,
I love my closet!

He opened his closet and got piled with stuff. Harmful chemicals, matches, a fake skeleton, his dead anaconda that apparently didn’t ran away, bundles of clothes and a lot of socks. The WD40 that his dad bought for him, his last year’s birthday cards, an old broken TV, his old slugger bat, baseball cards, and his old karate uniform with his old blue belt.

The darkness embraces me along with the foul stench of mothballs that crunch under my weight. I crouch down in this treacherous closet. I am all of six years old and I have been locked in this closet more times that I can count. I am too tall to lie down, too tall to stand up without hitting my head on one of these shelves, so I sit here crouched against the wall.

In stories you always hear about monsters living in their closet or portals to another dimension. If you were to open my closet door, you would see…nothing out of the ordinary. Sorry, no ghosts or monsters, just clothes. There is one thing scary in my closet! It’s a sweater that my grandfather’s wife made. It’s hideous!

As I open the closet, I see all the things that have happened in my past. There are all the embarrassing things, all the sad and happy things. Look!

Closets

by Maggie Haesler
Charlotte Central School - Grade 5

Closets are like candy or snowflakes
There are many different flavors, shapes, and sizes,
Some are bright and dazzling
With tiny sparkles on the wall,
Others are dark and dull
With yucky peeling paint,
Some have been jammed shut
Or stuffed to the brim,
Others are empty
With no meaning,

My Closet

By Mary Kate Clark
Monkton Central School, Grade 5

I opened my closet door. Colors spring out of the closet and into my eyes. Colors and things everywhere. I closed my eyes and smelled the musty smell of the closet.

My Closet

by Bea Woodruff
Charlotte Central School - Grade 5

I always wonder how it can be
such a big mess
With assorted clothing on the floor
scattered around
like seeds in a watermelon
It never works,
picking it up
I want this disarray,
this big mess,
to fly away,
bringing back a clean, new closet
POOF!
I would open the door
and the mess would be gone!

CLOSETS

By
Natalie Franklin
Charlotte Central School – Grade 5

Either on a hanger,
In a pile on the floor,
Falling out of shelves,
Or folded up cleanly,
Everybody has clothes in a closet.
A rainbow of colors,
You can never find what you are looking for.
A certain shirt,
A special pair of pants.
Most people usually end up throwing on random things.

My Closet

By Eliza Letourneau
Monkton Central School, Grade 5

When I look into my closet I see many parts of me. It is filled with memories and junk. I love looking into my closet and seeing everything. It is a jumble of parts of my life.
When I look on the floor I see many parts of me. I see three suitcases (mine and my brother Andre’s) and I think of all the trips we’ve been on. Also on the floor I see an old rubber backpack I used to use with my sister when we played together. Then I see a set of three drawers. Inside of them are old toys such as Fashion Polly’s. Then I see mounds of boxes filled with my summer clothes.
Hanging on the first rack are my skirts and a few fancy shirts. Some of the skirts were my sister Kristi’s. They remind me of all the Christmas concerts that we’ve had at Mt. Abe. Also there are a few empty hangers that will be filled at some point. There are a couple fancy jackets too.
On the second rack there are more clothes. There are all the dresses that I own and mostly never wear. Also there are a few dresses of my mom’s and some of Andre’s old suits. Then there is an old clown suit my mom wore for Halloween a long time ago. It has a colorful wig that goes with it.
This is what I see when I look into my closet. It is all part of what I am and it makes me smile sometimes to look into my closet.

Closet Full of Memories

By Celsey Lumbra
Fairfield Center School, Grade 8

As I see what I shall wear today,
I gaze at all the junk.
Crammed along the middle shelf
are clothes that must have shrunk.

Clothes that were in style then,
But are now so yesterday.
For now they must rest in peace,
Until they come back “in” someday.

On the very, very top shelf,
Are games and puzzles galore.
I played with them maybe once,
Before they were ignored.

These toys are more of memories,
Rather than things to entertain.
For when I look at them all,
I replay the day in my brain.

Like my wheel heel shoes,
When dad made me wear a helmet.
I was too embarrassed to wheel around,
Back in the closet they went.

Or that pink hat I had to have,
I haven’t worn it twice.
Now it’s used for dress-up,
A useless piece of merchandise.

So my closet is filled with mostly memories,
Built up from many years past.
I barely have room for all my clothes,
For it is filling up fast.

The door creaks open
Boxes, trunks, old clothes inside
Many memories

Open the door
An explosion of junk
Heaps of clothes
Fragments of things
Puzzle pieces
Leftover crumbs
Empty water bottles
Paper plates
Old shoes
Small trinkets
Everything
A memory
Stuff it all in
Close the door
Relive the memories
The fun
The laughter
Open the door

That is a closet, behind the white door.
But wait, my organization is poor.
My shoes, clothes, books, and more
all pile on the floor.
You open it and my mess might soar,
and hit you in the core,
causing you to roar,
What is this mess behind the door, of shoes, clothes, books and more, soaring through door, on the floor, that hit my core?