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She
She walked along a silent road
Her steps uttered not a sound
Her eyes like windows to her soul
Kept focused on the ground
She had no food she bore no bag
She had no song to sing
All she had to live
Was what she hoped her dreams would bring
And as the sky started to turn gray
And the wind swiftly spun and twirled
She sat down upon that dusty road
Whispering this message to the world
"Holden says, 'miss everyone'"
"Nevermore," the Raven said
Children do not stress tomorrow
But enjoy today instead
She summoned up her final breath and said
"Weed can change into a rose.
And never, my sweet child, ever,
Regret the path you chose."
— Aaron Aldridge, Grade 9
Reaction to Night
Night arouses fears,
Deadens the hopeful,
Death, doom, destruction,
Weisel speaks the truth
Of mass genocide,
Grief and gore and graves,
Please mourn the murdered
Lament the passing
Cry and cry some more,
But never forget
The heartbreaking sounds
Of man hurting man.
And never forget
The tears of terror.
To try and survive,
Some had to conceal
The fact of their birth.
To be or not to be,
A Jew or not a Jew.
—George Karas, Grade 9
Memories
These memories are all that we have, to remember:
Happy and sad, good and bad
But once they're gone, there's nothing left
Moments captured within a breath
These always will be mine, remembering the time
They give my darkest, dullest moments their luster and shine
Like an eagle's wings, they allow me to glide
Always there like a shadow by my side
Never a burden and a treasure to share
They fill my empty lungs with that sweet, nourishing, air
The memories bathe me in warmth like the sun's rays
Never forget those youthful days . . .
—Michael Zebrowski Grade 10
The Man in the Moon
Look at the sad eyes shining so bright,
The mouth in a whimsical smile
You can only chance a glance at night,
When the mask comes off for a while
The air is as still as the fresh morning dew,
His companions are out and number not few
The potential for a glimpse is one hundred and two,
A safe bet, yes, but who knows he'll do
Stark white as a ghost, or blushed in orange dim,
A few have been able to get close to him
And leave their mark that only some will see,
He'll brighten a room, no utility fee
His dense friends, all of them, are spinning around,
He's always winking at us high above ground
Becoming increasingly shy in the morning-time,
Wallowing in the daylight, in the shadows; sublime
Every time you look into the sky at night
You'll see the jovial man in the moon shining bright.
—Christopher Kurzum, Grade 9
POEM
To some a |
P |
ain |
To |
O |
thers joy |
But to |
E |
veryone, |
Wondrous enthrall |
M |
ent. |
I must rhyme some ex |
P |
erts say, |
Wh |
O |
made them experts anyway. |
Th |
E |
y may know much, they may know some, |
They know of nothing off |
M |
y tongue. |
They see only on |
P |
aper |
What |
O |
f me they can |
Yet most of m |
E |
is here. |
Wondrous enthrall |
M |
ent |
—Stephen Rogacki, Grade 9
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