A Star
with not a star in sight so let us make them: . . ...
Poems
Poetry and verse from young voices
View:
with not a star in sight
so let us make them:
. . . .
. .
. . . .
. .
.
This piece contains some additional resources for educators. Click here to read them.
On some cool days, we wear wool
because of the breeze,
with a little sneeze,
like the wind will never freeze.
The chatter of the trees,
the red of the leaves
that have flooded the streets
like a stream,
like a dream,
with some steam.
Fragile, and weak, like delicate glasswork,
Flocks of birds ran away, weakened like retreat.
Wind blew and tsunamis wrecked, and they are ones that lurk.
How the birds remember this was a crystal sea of dew,
But now, lightning, tsunamis, and winds flooded the trees and nests.
And then, the cause of this was a terrible wreck, and flocks and flocks of birds flew.
In the early hours of the day
when the lonely owl is interrupted
by the small twitters of rising birds
and the first blush appears in the sky,
I sit in my blue chair
and listen to the world around me.
The house is perfectly silent,
but soon the cries
of the little kids in the neighborhood will fade in.
So I treasure this time.
And this chair.
“I’m mixed.”
A pause,
just a second,
barely noticeable,
before the gears begin to turn.
The pinched brow,
the searching gaze,
the uncertain tilt
of the head,
slowly recede in relief.
My new friend now has an answer
and a box
to put me in:
“Oh, like café au lait!”
“Well . . . sure . . . I guess.”
A smile,
a reassuring nod,
and our conversation moves on.
1:
The mist that dances on the water
wisps of light contained in tiny, glistening droplets
like fragments of crystal
the sound mystical and delicate
2:
Thick, gray sheets
pounding on the roof with giant fists
unrelenting and violent
a tempest that swirls in the sky
3:
A nonstop drizzle
muted and bleak
full of nothingness
muffled and subdued
I am the sun
So big and bold
My seeds leave me
When I’m old
I stand and sway watching them fly away to freedom
Bobbing in the breeze
And finally landing in the shade beneath
The trees
But now it is Spring
And I am blooming bright
Now it is Summer and I am still a lovely sight
Fall is here and I look like the moon
All of my seeds will leave me soon
Soon is here as they blow away
Soo...
A beautiful river is beside me.
The forest behind me.
The world is a beautiful place
to live.
We all love our Earth.
The river brings something to my mind.
What could it be?
Broken homes.
Sad people.
A lonely town in a small valley.
Can the world be worse?
Who can live on an earth like this?
Paulina. Paulina. Paulina.
It’s a beautiful name.
It fills my head with wonder.
Does it mean something?
Can people ever find a name more beautiful?
Can a butterfly be named that?
How many things can we know?