Mar 16
poem 0 comments challenge: SHELTER

My World

Home.

A word that we use,

Almost every day. 

But what does it really mean?

Home can be so many different places.

It could be where you live

Or just where you feel happy.

For me,

Where I feel like home changes like the tide.

Sometimes I will feel at home in my bed,

Outside on a trail.

I can feel at home in school,

Laughing with my friends.

Home isn’t a place for me.

It is a feeling that you get,

A safe feeling.

That is what it means to be home. 

 
Jan 22

My World

Home.

A word that we use,

Almost every day. 

But what does it really mean?

Home can be so many different places.

It could be where you live

Or just where you feel happy.

For me,

Where I feel like home changes like the tide.

Sometimes I will feel at home in my bed,

Outside on a trail.

I can feel at home in school,

Laughing with my friends.

Home isn’t a place for me.

It is a feeling that you get,

A safe feeling.

That is what it means to be home. 

 

 
Dec 19

The High Andes


Hiking in the most beautiful place on earth.

The mountains are like skyscrapers, but much more beautiful.

They are breathtaking,

Plants cover the surfaces,

Being so high it's like being on the top of the world.

The sky is blue as paint,

The mountains covered with green.

Llamas grazing,

Little oxygen.

History walked this path,

So did the Incas.

I love hiking in the High Andes    
 
Dec 19

On the Other Wall


One of the workers

Took my painting

And put it on the wall.

She stepped back to look at me.

I am the girl with a pearl earring or Victoria. 

Once the worker leaves,

 I take a look around.

And then someone in another painting waves at me,

She looks to be about my age.

She has dark skin, dark eyes, and a warming smile.

I wave back,

Then she disappears from her painting,

A few seconds later she pops into my painting.

“Hi, my name’s Maddy welcome to The Louis art museum.” 

I don’t say anything.

I am shocked,

Every place I have been to no ones ever talked to me. 

I think it will be nice to have a friend.

On the other wall 
  
 
Dec 18
poem 0 comments challenge: General

My Cursed Locker

Lockers line every wall here.

It is a dull, green, and metallic maze.

Glancing at my locker card,

I follow the mob of students into the hall. 

When I finally find my locker,

It looks sad and plain,

The green color like withered moss.

I scan my card to find my combination.

What if I never open my locker? 

What if it got stuck?

What if I got stuck in my locker?

Even though I knew that I would be able to open my locker,

Still I worried.

My combination seemed easy enough to remember,

I followed the directions to find the first number.

Two times to the right then find 12… one to the left then find 32,

And finally to the right till I get to 10. 

When I tried to tug on the lever,

It wouldn't open, 

My locker was still locked. 
Dec 12
poem 0 comments challenge: General

What would happen if we were all blind?

What would happen if we were all were blind? 

Would it not matter what you looked like if nobody could see you?

Think about,

Would we not have had wars?

Would we not be racist?

Would everything be much simpler? 

What if we saw the world in black and white,

Truth and lies.

What would happen if we were all blind?

 
Oct 25
poem 0 comments challenge: General

Change

Isn't it odd,

How this world has changed

Once the earth was a chunk of rock,

Then it was blue and green

 Life was life and death was death,

Everything in harmony

Sometimes I can imagine what it was like,

No gray buildings or rusty cars

Just colors that were as bright as paint 

At night when only the birds still sang,

And the moon’s white light

Lit up the world as it was,

Now everything has changed, but in my eyes

We are still the same.

 
Oct 08
poem 0 comments challenge: General

Loss

I wonder about many things

and I wonder about loss

not just loss 

but how people handle it,

some are sad

some are angry 

some cry

some are shocked

some blame

some wonder what they could have done

some want to remember

some want to forget

and some like me,

write it down. 
Sep 23

The house on my street

Every time I walk by that house the air gets colder. It’s like time stops around that house. There is never a squirrel in the yard. The birds even fly around the house. When I walk to school I have to walk by that house. I am the only kid who walks everyone else takes the bus. The bus always zooms right by me leaving dust swirling. That house is gray and gloomy and the curtains are ripped and frayed. Now why am I telling you this? Well because I got into a stupid bet. A couple days ago we were talking about that house at lunch. The most popular kid at my school bragged that her sister had gone into the house and taken a small pocket mirror from the table. When no one believed her, so she pulled out a small mirror just like the one she described. It was silver and probably once was shiny but now was covered in rust and dirt. There was little indents around the edges that almost looked like words.
Sep 19
poem 0 comments challenge: Clearing

Our Journey

Bags heavy on our backs

Sweat dripping down 

Fluttering leaves in the canopy

Shady shadows dance and shuffle

Roots reaching across the path

Saplings reach towards the sun

The soft trickle of a stream

The rustle of leaves 

Acorns littering the ground 

The bright colors of flowers 

The think smell of pine 
 
But when we get to the clearing

Our journey is done 

 

 

 

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