Home
Young Writers Project
  • READ
    • Recent Posts
    • Daily Read
    • Recent Visual Art
  • YWP COMMUNITY
    • Tiny Writes
    • Book Club
    • YWP Podcast
    • Community Leaders
      • Community Leaders' Newsletter
    • Oh Snap! Online Open Mic
  • CHALLENGES
    • Weekly Challenges 2020-21
    • Community Journalism
      • Community Journalism Project
    • Challenges Bank
    • The Great Poets Challenge
  • EVENTS
    • ALL YWP EVENTS
    • March 27: Online Open Mic
    • March 4: Clowning Conundrums
    • March 14: Poetry for Middle School
    • YWP Calendar
  • PUBLICATIONS
    • The Voice
    • Anthology 11
      • Anthology 11 Podcast
    • Media Partners
    • The Social Distancing Journal
    • The ELM - Edmunds Literary Magazine
  • ABOUT
    • About YWP
    • YWP Newsletter
    • YWP is ...
    • Permission Form
    • FY19 ANNUAL REPORT & 990
    • Contact Us
  • Donate
  • LOG IN/JOIN

Search form

Previous Post
Next Post
Jun 03
poem 1 comment
Nightheart

five senses

Kindergarten sounded like 
small voices singing
together on the bus, 
a brunette next to a blonde. 

First grade tasted like 
ghorme sabzi that my mom makes, 
and the bitterness in my mouth
after the other kids made fun of my 
foreign food. 

Second grade looked like 
cards in a calendar, 
flipping a different one each day, 
the look of polyester on the chalkboard.

Third grade smelled like 
Elmers glue and old magazines, 
the shick shick of the scissors as 
they cut through the shapes. 

Fourth grade felt like 
the rush of adrenaline you get 
when the teacher starts the timer on 
your times tables, racing through
so you could get to the next number. 

Fifth grade was a blur 
of memories and cloudy days, 
fight between friends 
and arguments, 

Sixth grade tasted like 
stale airplane air and 
my grandmothers house, 
like hours spent in cramped cabins
and family get togethers that 
lasted through the night. 

Seventh grade was 
fireworks and spinning amusement 
park rides, and dark rooms 
dancing with people, 
and the thump thump of feet on the track, 

and eight grades almost over, 
everything is almost done, 
but I'll remember the smiles and 
the deep belly laughs, 
the all-nighters preparing for tests and 
cross country meets with my friends, 
I'll remember the dances, 
all the memories I made, 
I'll remember the people who left me 
and all the ones who stayed, 
and I'll remember all of the feelings, 
good, bad, and in between, 
I'll try to be a better person, 

and now it's time to walk into the future, 
taking lessons from my past, 
it's time to find out what I have in me, 
It's time to go out with a blast. 


 
  • Nightheart's blog
  • Sprout
  • Log in or register to post comments
  • Print Friendly, PDF & Email
Posted: 06.03.19
About the Author: Nightheart
"remember, we are infinite"
MSG / CONTACT
RECENT LOVES
  • Cherry Tree
  • Blue moon melodies for starry nights
  • imperfections
  • on the side of the highway
  • for those waiting to exist:
RECENT COMMENTS
  • hi! i love your description
  • thank you so much!
  • This great! The way you
  • This would be really cool if
  • Hi!

Other Posts by Author

  • The Great Poets Challenge
    poetsbanner.jpg [Art: Alden Bond, YWP]Hey YWP, you might know me on the site as Nightheart. I want to introduce you to some great poets I've discovered – from all walks of life. Learn about their style, their themes, their contributions to the poetry landscape. Gain inspiration from the topics that they choose to write about, and become inspired by some of their most famous poems! Write to the Great Poets challenge if you're inspired by these poets' work. The poets are organized by months, but you can write about any of the poets anytime in this ongoing challenge. Read more
    in ywp info 0 Comments
  • The Great Poets Challenge
    Read more
    in ywp info 0 Comments
  • your poem
    I am trying to write a poem about a tree, I look outside and there it is, another tree, Read more
    in poem 0 Comments

Discussion

Comments

  1. Forever young
    Jun 04, 2019

    I really love how you personalized this poem. Keep on writing!

    "we have to teach our girls that they can reach as high as humanly possible."
    Beyonce
    • Log in or register to post comments
  • ABOUT
  • DONATE
  • THE VOICE
  • YWP NEWSLETTER
​Young Writers Project | 47 Maple St., Suite 216 | Burlington, VT 05401
Contact: [email protected] | (802) 324-9538 
 
  • Facebook icon
  • Twitter icon
  • Instagram icon
  • E-Mail icon