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May 15
poem 0 comments challenge: General
Ms. Naugle's picture


As I stare out my window 

On this lovely spring day, I hear

The sounds of birds singing a lovely song.

I sit down on my bed, and I open my window sill.

I imagine all the things the birds are singing about.

I pictured summer mornings, where the sun was shining bright.

I imagined red roses, and bees flying by.

As I sat here, a blue bird flew by, singing its song.

I may never know what its about, but only that it is the 

Sound of Nature.

Tegan Miller
Grade 5
Killington Elementary School

May 15
poem 0 comments challenge: General
joseph.deffner's picture

I saw a man today

I saw a man today

He had 

Confederate flags 

On his

Red truck


He had

A shotgun

In his hand

His face 

Didn’t portray anger

But to have 

Confederate flags 

On his




And to 

Be carrying 

a gun

He had to 

Be past the point of anger

His feelings turned to 



I feel it sometimes

Sometimes I want to slip into

The depths and


But I know 

That is dangerous

Because hate

Is dangerous

Like playing with fire

I might burn myself

At any moment

This man

With the 


And the


And the 

May 15
Kittykatruff's picture

Spring Storm in New Hampshire

I'm sitting in the living room,
stroking my dozing dog, then suddenly:
a flash of light in my peripheral vision,
so quick I might have imagined it.
Then I hear it:
Thunder crashes overhead, a canon shot
in the fading light,
signaling war.
The towering pines sway ominously,
as if possessed by some strange urge to dance wildly,
haphazardly, subject to the winds;
Rain pelts the windows, streaming down in a 
never-ending sheet, distorting the images I watch
through the glass;
Such terrifying beauty--I know not whether to
scream, or laugh, or run out into the rain
and join the frenzied dance, letting the water rush down my face;
yet I stay sitting there, entranced, gazing at the sky
(and it's probably for the better).
Then lightning blinds the world again,
illuminating the figures of puppet trees
flung about by the wind, then
the world is dark again...
May 15
spacesharks's picture

i don't know

Today I tossed a tennis ball,
up into the air
As a game that filled
the time until another chore is due.
when my dad came up and asked me,
What do you want to do?
my first and immediate thought was,

As Quarintine crawls by,
in it's sluggish,
life-sapping way,
when someone asks you
how do you feel?
my first and immediate thought is,


my first and immediate thought is,

May 15


I dreamed
I was a leaf
In the air
gliding down
May 15


I dreamed
I was a raindrop
in a cavern of silence
May 11

Who The Hell Told You That?

People can change.
People can initiate change.
Who says they can't?
The world can change.
The world must change.
Who says it can't?
We're not incapable.
We are more than capable.
Who says we're hopeless?
I'm not a tragedy.
I'm not an experiment.
Who says that I am?
You're not dreaming.
You're just not here.
Who says that you are?
They don't know.
They don't have to.
Who says they do?

Now, who the hell told you that?
May 11


They were fussy green sprouts

If the water drowned their roots

Their fingers would turn yellow

And their soil black

Gurgling in their plastic cells

If I took off their roof

Their lanky legs

Would hurry towards the light

Wringing their stalk

Smaller than I wanted

And the nightly frost permitted

If I never turned off their sun

Their leaves shriveled

Curling towards the stalk

Old grey scrolls

So I spend my time 

Trying to find 

The perfect medium

Slaving for fussy green sprouts

May 11
pearl45's picture

Seasons this year

Summer is tank tops, wet with hose water from a fake fight.
Summer is bare feet, 
And happy.
Summer is loose hair and iced tea, and tan smiles. 
Summer comes just before fall:

Fall is crunchy leaves just after being jumped in. 
Fall is that first snow that you get all excited for, 
Only to find that it’s gone when you wake up. 
Fall is a thousand back to school pictures     
Really mom? Every year?
Fall comes just before winter:

Winter is the frost that rests on my window, 
that freezes my fingers when I try to wipe it away. 
Winter is the ice that carries the dancers on thin blades. 
Winter is the hot chocolate that follows extreme sledding. 
Winter comes just before spring:

Spring is the best. 
Spring is walking to school without (finally!!) a heavy jacket. 
May 08
Krajace's picture


opening my eyes to the morning sun seeping into the cabin
the sleepy walk up to breakfast
eager faces in the dining hall, excited for the day ahead   
the squeak of chairs as counselors announce clearing games, running to find someone with a watch or a certain birthday trying not to be last 
the waterfront with all the boats, the trampoline, the waterslide, and the volleyball nets
the lake shimming and sparkling in the early afternoon light 
climbing the big hill and running down the other side to get the archery range, the soccer field, and arts and crafts
getting lunch from the buffet then sitting down to talk and laugh with friends 
heading back to the cabin to write a letter to parents, or working on the friendship bracelets tied onto waterbottles    
watching the brilliant sunsets from the theater porch after dinner
evening activities, running through the big open fields of long grass smelling the warm summer air