"My Personal Creed" by Alex Banker

I believe simply just having a smile on your face can lead to great things.

I believe in hard work because it leads to success.

I believe in an education because without knowledge we are nowhere.

I believe in peace because no one should feel it is his or her duty to kill another person in war.

I believe those that are homeless and suffering should be our nation and our world’s top priority instead of how to make more money.

I believe we are all children of God called to love one another as ourselves.

"Life" by Savannah Adams

Adventurous and surprising,
fun and spontaneous,
amazing and glorious,
and then it's gone.
The choice is out of your hands,
it happened so fast.
Your life is now gone.
So live your life now, while you can.

"The Beautiful Girl in the Second Row" by Nate Jensen

I look at her across the class.

I’ve seen her praying intently in mass.

She is the one I love.

And this is only known by God above.

Her deep, dark hair and beautiful eyes

Shine in the morning light and there are no lies

About how much I love her.

I begin to wonder and I begin to think.

About how beautiful she looks wearing pink.

I begin to wonder and rehearse

How I could profess my love in a simple verse.

But I think, “How foolish I am. Are my eyes shrouded in mist?”

Does she even know I exist?

Yes, she does, but to her, I don’t matter,

Because, apparently, I couldn’t be any fatter.

It seems as though I have low self-esteem.

But her love for me couldn’t be less keen.

I think she is so perfect, and I am so flawed.

And for my sake, I pray to God.

Without even knowing it, I start to smile.

And then she notices me after a while.

I say to her that I love her a lot.

But I find out that truth can’t be fought.

She doesn’t care for me at all.

She barely knows my name.

And as my spirits fall,

No one can understand my pain.

I can’t describe what I felt when this took place.

I felt like I had “ugly” written on my face.

She had “beautiful” all over hers, and that was fine for me.

But now I know that love comes with a fee.

Yes, love can be bought, but not with paper money.

Not even with coin, although that would be rather funny.

So what is the price for love? How do we find the facts?

The price for love is that when you love someone, they might not love you back.

"Summer" by Lauren Hoody

Schools almost done

The cold will soon turn to hot

Summer will be here

"Respect" by Lauren Hoody

Shows you really care

Respect and be respected

Helps us live in peace

"Spring" by Haley Gould

When the winter’s done,

All the plants turn green and grow,

And spring takes over.

"Summer Sun" by Lucy Zadina

As the sun beats down on that summer day,

all the children come out to play.

Hopscotch, jumprope, and kickball too,

all can play, even me and you.

 Ice-cream and popcicles are daily treats

as they cope with the hot summer’s heat.

The children will play into the night,

and only come in with a great big fight.

All summer long they  play with friends,

until the hot summer sun comes to an end.

"Baseball" by Joe Zach

Lace up the cleats,
Buckle up the pants,
Put on the hat.
Strap on the gloves,
Run onto the field.
Step on the mound,
Step in the box.
Rear back and throw,
Load up and swing.
Baseball season has begun
Summertime is on its way.

"Light" by Jackie Koenig

Inside each person there’s something bright.

It keeps us going through life’s fights.

But sometimes it likes to hide

And then we lose ourselves inside.

This does not mean we are alone.

All we must do is journey back home

To the place where it all began

And families said, “I know you can.”

Always push on when things go wrong.

That glow is what makes you strong.

Through the darkness in the night,

Forever keep that beautiful light

"Summer" by Clare Snyder

Summer is just around the corner and it is what everyone is thinking about,

When the last bell rings on May 26^th everyone is going to shout.

Summers are carefree and lazy,

And getting together with friends is fund and crazy.

Music, movies, parties, and friends fill our sleepless nights,

Schoolwork and stress is no longer a constant fight.

Our days are spent outside and laying by the pool,

Having fun and being happy is basically a summer rule.

But the summer will always come to an end,

You can always feel the sadness when August comes around the bend.

Summer is a special time of the year,

Thank the Lord it is almost here!

Haikus Celebrating Music by Zachary Pohlman

"Eighty-Eight"

Eighty-Eight keys lay

Waiting to be put to work

Played by skillful hand

"Rhythm"

Rhythm is everywhere

The street, the yard, the ballpark

Rhythm is all around

"Nature’s Music"

Hearing the birds’ song

I pause and relish the tone

Nature’s music sounds

"Dancing Girl" by Darby Epperson

I know this girl who loves to dance

She goes around and does a prance

She loves to twirl, her hair all curled

And bounce and flounce around the world

She does a performance everyday

And loves the limelight in every way

She has a million shoes scattered on the floor

And a million more behind her closet door

She wears a tutu 24/7

 I’ll bet she’ll wear one even in heaven

You probably wonder how I know her so well

It’s because I’m her aunt and I’m under her spell

“Je Sais” by Alexis Harris (English translation follows the French text)

Je sais que le vent

Est doré avec le soleil.

Et je sais que la pluie

Est bleue avec les nuages.

Les jours s’en vont,

La nuit est noire,

Et la rue des étoiles

Étincelle délicatement.

Je connais un homme

Qui attend en silence

Sous la rue des étoiles.

Je sais que le soleil

Lèvera bientôt,

Et les étoiles se faneront.

Je sais.

“I Know”

I know the wind

Is gold with the sun.

And I know the rain

Is blue with the clouds.

The days go away,

The night is black,

And the path of the stars

Sparkles softly.

I know a man

Who waits in silence

Under the path of the stars.

I know the sun

Will soon rise,

And the stars will fade.

I know.

“His Eyes” by Alexis Harris, Rendered from Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451

Eyes so dark they appear shining and alive,

Hypnotized like phoenix,

Awe shaking and emptying,

Wandering the silver pavement where there’s the faintest breath.

Bright as snow in the moonlight and seeking.

Sunrise of silence suspended like shining drops of

Bright water that appear dark in their fine detail.

Bits of violet amber that capture the fragile milk crystal.

Soft and constant light gently flattering the power

Of the illumination in which vast dimensions are transformed.

"Touch" by Clare

The texture surges through you.

Entered by the finger tips.

The finger tips, the entry for so many foreigners.

Eager reaching grabbing seeking

Touch here then there

Silky? Smooth. Crunchy? Crusty.

It abounds in life

From a chair to a knife

Your fingertips can tell you the story.

Performing nicely without a hitch

They work without a thought

No effort and there it is! The entry of so many sensations.

If its glazed

                They can tell

If its sanded

                They can tell

If its woven

                They can tell.

And tell they will.

Informative digits they are.

Sharing their life’s work free of charge.

"Pottery" by: Clare

Slide your fingers along the edge

Caress the center

Feel the textured

.

Stop.

.

Pause.

.

Consider its worth

Who made it

For what

Why?

Pick it up to sense

Sense the weight

Sense the power

Sense the effort

Appreciate the work done.

Appreciate the effort inputted

Calculate influence.

                        Wait!

                        Calculate? Calculate?!

                                    No No No

                                    That isn’t right.

                                    Keep calculating, or at least the word

                                                To math!

                                    back

                        back

            back

back

Study the surface, then close your eyes.

Begin to feel the work.

Embrace the aura

Return it

"A Surprise Snow Da"y by Kristin Sauma

Sleepers wear pajamas inside-out;

children hold their breath, cross their fingers, and

dance,

participating in rituals that have moved to the beats

of hearts from generations and generations

with hope.

Parents focus puffy eyes on channel 6

and ears on unnaturally cheerful morning voices...

A number on the screen soon means

whiteness outside,

and a day of justified truancy.

"Look Before You Fall" by Ellen Cook

It’s like a big rush of air on your face and then you forget everything

And you take a deep breath before you immerse yourself underneath

But sooner than you expected,

You can’t breathe.

But you’re so distracted by the way your heart beat is louder than an Aerosmith concert,

you can’t possibly notice that the lack of oxygen to your brain is cutting of your central unit of common sense

And by that time it’s too late anyways

Because even when someone sticks it to you between the eyes

You deny it.

And you sink lower and lower

And the main reason you remain at the bottom is because you have an unsatisfied urge for that feeling that you had at the top.

When you first dove in.

When you submerged yourself in false happiness, false bliss.

But now, forewarnings accounted for, the bottom is where you lie.

The bottom with guilt and loneliness.

The bottom that has stolen your breath and leaves you begging

To take it all back.

You’d give anything for another moment at the top.

A moment that you gave up willingly.

And all for what?

"Awakening Eyes" by Allison Lee

Hushed rest

Mind best in fantasy.

6 am. 6am.

Lids creak open

Eyes soaked, in the surrounding darkness.

Where am I again?

6:05. 6:05.

Weakly, they search for the ticking.

Gently flicking, trying to make out the source.

Silence.

Rubbing slowly,

Hoping to see wholly, the scene.

Reaching for that one switch right…

Here.

Eyes shutter in the new, cruel light.

Do I find delight in such torture?

Painfully, they figure they must lure open.

Better now to cope than waiting until tomorrow.

“Silence in Waiting” by Ellen Cook

She waits.

As she rereads the first line of chapter seven over, for a third time, still not comprehending.

Her head is elsewhere.

She looks at the ceiling, trying to clear her head.

She readjusts her blanket, so it covers her shoulders.

It is so quiet.

The silence is shattered by her own voice.

She breathes out and a slight noise comes from her throat, like a small scream, but more peaceful.

The sound makes her bones shiver, and her skin tightens.

She speaks, though she does not know what to say.

Her voice, cracks at first, but then is smooth and soft like an old record

As she drowns in the sound, the key ends in silence.

Silent as she’s always been.

Silent as she’s meant to be.

Silent as he’s kept her.

She doesn’t whisper another sound, as she looks down at her book

He’ll be home soon.

She waits.

As she rereads the first line of chapter seven over, for a third time, still not comprehending