Literature
Grief:
Grief is being trapped in a box
Grief is a wave crashing down on you, Throwing you into suffocating darkness, over your head
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide
The darkness closing in around you
They ask, ‘are you ok’ and all you can do Is smile, and say ‘of course’
When all you want to do is cry
Your tears grow, in that little trapped box,
Can’t get out, you try to hide behind that fake smile
But you know it isn't true
So you cry and you tell them you can’t
You can’t do it alone, no one can do it alone
The day he left, the world seemed to crash,
It seemed to crash all around me,
I tried to hide, but you can’t hide,
So just cry, cry with me now,
You will be alright, I will be here to help
Like he was there for me,
Grief is being trapped in a box
Grief is a wave crashing down on you,
Throwing you into suffocating darkness, over your head
So let it come, do not run or hide
Let it come, let it come
-Becca 7th Grade 2020
Grief is being trapped in a box
Grief is a wave crashing down on you, Throwing you into suffocating darkness, over your head
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide
The darkness closing in around you
They ask, ‘are you ok’ and all you can do Is smile, and say ‘of course’
When all you want to do is cry
Your tears grow, in that little trapped box,
Can’t get out, you try to hide behind that fake smile
But you know it isn't true
So you cry and you tell them you can’t
You can’t do it alone, no one can do it alone
The day he left, the world seemed to crash,
It seemed to crash all around me,
I tried to hide, but you can’t hide,
So just cry, cry with me now,
You will be alright, I will be here to help
Like he was there for me,
Grief is being trapped in a box
Grief is a wave crashing down on you,
Throwing you into suffocating darkness, over your head
So let it come, do not run or hide
Let it come, let it come
-Becca 7th Grade 2020
Ode to a Blob of Putty I Found in my Armpit One Sunny Midsummer Morning
O, Blob of Putty I Found in my Armpit One Sunny Midsummer Morning,
your blobbiness contents me and rejuvenates me inside. Your slight squish makes me happy and usually drives away those around me. Your greenish color makes me satisfied. Your sweaty, wet, gym-sock smell makes me gorgle with contentment.
O, Blob of Putty I Found in my Armpit One Sunny Midsummer Morning,
when I throw you, you splatter like an enemy from Gears of War on my garage wall. You explode like a liver when filled with C-4. You cannot be destroyed, for you are easily re-made.
O, Blob of Putty I Found in my Armpit One Sunny Midsummer Morning,
You are the best blob made in existence. Better than that blob I put in my armpit ten years ago. Oh wait… you are that blob.
-submitted by anonymous
O, Blob of Putty I Found in my Armpit One Sunny Midsummer Morning,
your blobbiness contents me and rejuvenates me inside. Your slight squish makes me happy and usually drives away those around me. Your greenish color makes me satisfied. Your sweaty, wet, gym-sock smell makes me gorgle with contentment.
O, Blob of Putty I Found in my Armpit One Sunny Midsummer Morning,
when I throw you, you splatter like an enemy from Gears of War on my garage wall. You explode like a liver when filled with C-4. You cannot be destroyed, for you are easily re-made.
O, Blob of Putty I Found in my Armpit One Sunny Midsummer Morning,
You are the best blob made in existence. Better than that blob I put in my armpit ten years ago. Oh wait… you are that blob.
-submitted by anonymous
I search under the bed
Oh gosh it’s dead Ouch! Oh my, it’s not! It prays on the weak Everyday of the week It’s on a winning streak! It wears thick fur Maybe you can incur He’s my little lion I’d be lying If I denied hiding From the scary beast, I’d bet he’s having a big feast On some fine victuals And fighting with his sister I think he gave me a blister He may have killed a rat He may be filled with drat And a cat He’s my little lion Strife can cut like a knife My whole life Lead to one day He came in bin He looked like a blin He had to hide from the din All the places he’s been He’s my little lion He's in my dreams Alongside memes No hyperboles He’s my everything He’s in my head I’m glad I’m not dead lying in bed And lying with him, He’s my little lion -submitted by Clark |
Women We see you But you don’t See the same We see you You strike us Tell us “shush” We can’t tell We see you As we hurt You hurt us As we cry You make us We see you You hurt friends And us too We are punished For telling the truth We see you We can’t tell And we won’t Because we’re scared anonymous |
Ode to summer
Oh summer, Your sun, is the light of my life, Without you the world would be ice, Your beautiful flowers stand up out of the crowd, Juicy pineapple in my mouth makes be harm inside, Also the sun's rays do too Without summer in my life, Who would I be? Oh Summer -anonymous |
How to bake the worst cake
A special occasion for us all Not for winter, spring, summer, or fall A great time to bake a cake One that’s unique and it’s easy to make You start by getting all your things Maybe some flour, sugar and a spring A mixing bowl, a fork, a spoon A pinch of salt and a dozen balloons Some baking soda a metal whisk A touch of vanilla and a music disc Preheat the oven to 400 degrees Don’t drop the eggs when you just sneeze Melt the butter and beat it up Put in the sugar, a quarter cup Crack 2 eggs in the mixing bowl Don’t drop the egg the shell in whole Put in the dry mix and the milk Mix it up and it’ll be like silk Pour the batter in the pan And top it off with three soda cans Bake it while you watch TV Your so excited while you’re watching Glee A hours passed and the timer rang The oven exploded with a big BANG! Your treat is done and with some burnt soot flakes Now it’s time to frost the cake! Mix butter and cream with a cup of salt A pinch of sugar and some isomalt Frost the cake with your buttercream Pipe clouds and flowers and a water stream The frosting melts but you know what to do Give it to your mom and say “Happy Mother’s Day to You!”
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Ode to starburst
O, Starburst As I smell the wrapper of the glorious candy My face fills with joy The strawberry, lemon, orange and cherry make it hard to not smile You keep the world sweet And when people are sad,the taste of the sugary treat makes them happy. When I take the first bite The world stops all of the bad things go away. O, starburst Thank you for being a candy -anonymous |
Oh Christmas You make me so happy Bright lights and twinkling smiles Gleaming Christmas trees And without you smiles Would die Christmas Carols would stop Cookies would stop smelling up the houses Elves would stop moving around and then there would be silence Oh Christmas -anonymous
“Kiera! You have to come see this, I think you’ll be happy!” Brendan shouted abruptly. I stood for a second letting my heart regain consciousness then sauntered downstairs. Brendan pointed out the window, and that is when I saw her. A tiny golden puppy, sticking its head out the window of my dad’s car.
-submitted by Kiera
“Kiera! You have to come see this, I think you’ll be happy!” Brendan shouted abruptly. I stood for a second letting my heart regain consciousness then sauntered downstairs. Brendan pointed out the window, and that is when I saw her. A tiny golden puppy, sticking its head out the window of my dad’s car.
-submitted by Kiera
Who Am I? Poems by the Koala cluster
Who Am I:
Asteroids in the air, This is so unfair, We wish the ozone was there. Meat or plant, We roar to chant, We’re too tall to see an ant. Our skin is leathery, We’re pretty feathery, But that asteroid came at the perfect trajectory. Dinosaur
Who Am I: Ow get off me, you’re crushing my spine, and all wood pieces. You shake me to death And you won't stop jumping Please, help me I need to escape It’s getting late and I need to sleep. Bed
Who Am I: I don’t have a voice but I still say a word You use me instead of sending a bird You click on me when you need to say You use me everyday When you open me up I’m here to see That all you want to do is hit me You use ten fingers instead of two Give me my space So I can say something new Keyboard
Who Am I: My back will hurt some people, I am cute until you pet me. My tall brown weapons are all over my back, they come out when you try to hurt me. Do you know who I am? Porcupine
Who Am I: I hold it cool until it’s time to release. Filled up, poured out, refreshing like the breeze. Bring me many many places, for I’m very needed. I come in all shapes and sizes. Some people use me as disguises for what’s really inside. What’s in me makes life washed and dried again. I last a long time, Unless you lose me. Water Bottle
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Who Am I:
I wear a little tiny cap, And leave a trail behind me. You might hear me go “tip tap” When pressed on my hiney. Pen
Who Am I: Boom! Up in the sky, You will see my colors fly. I go up so high, I fall down when I die. Firework
Who Am I: I express ideas but can later take away. I have a best friend who is very plain. Sometimes I lose my point. You can wear me down everyday. Pencil
Who Am I: You can bring me anywhere, just don’t lose my pieces. When you put me together, I am a ongoing picture. There is only one way to see me. Every part of me has a purpose. Puzzle
Who Am I: I’m steaming with a burst of light, I give but then later in life dramatically take away I move in the same track. My brothers and sisters are miles away. My family now is here, even though I am the Parental here. Sun
Who Am I: Put water in and hear me scream, open the top and out comes steam. Open my door and watch me pour. open the bag, take off the tag, drop it in, let the flavor kick in. Tea Kettle
Who Am I: Open my door, See my steam go in dirty, and come out clean. Put in soap and watch me bubble, do it wrong and you may be in trouble. Dishwasher
Who Am I: I am not a food so don’t eat me. Promise you won’t confuse me with something gross. A famous doctor helped get me noticed. You need a lot of money to hang out with me. Everybody loves me anyway. Beats Headphones
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Who Am I: I have stitches, but I’m not hurt. I whizz past you faster than a bullet. With lots and lots of bruises, walking outta the park Baseball
Who Am I: I move as the day passes on. I always have my hands on my face. Rare to be late. I’m always moving, slowly but surely. Analog Clock
Who Am I: You can always count on me. You have a question, I’ll have an answer. All I try to do is help you but you just keep pushing my buttons. No need 5 hour energy, I’m all charged up. I will help you in a jiffy, but won’t help you on a test. I don’t need a brain to be smart. Calculator
Who Am I: I wear a thin white coat with with holes in it that I collect when I’m outside, as a pair I slice through the white powder. And fly down trails green, black, and blue. I never touch the ground coming up but I always do it coming down. And although I hold a lot of weight on my colorful back I do not weigh a lot I also have a relative, someone you may know who’s similar to me. Although they are only one and wider With this I have some boots not underneath but on top. Skis
Who Am I: My rocks turn to pebbles, soft as a pillow. People’s dirty feet step on my face. When the weather is warm, my surface turns to fire. My waves go up and down, rough like a boxer. I may seem peaceful, but up close I’m dangerous. Beach
Who Am I: I float high in the sky, touching the clouds. I am as small a bouncy ball, then big as a beach ball. If you poke me I go out like a light, then pieces of me fall to the ground. Then my life is over. Balloon
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"Sit In Article"
by Maeve K. and Morgan K.
On March 14, 2018, many Blake students took part in a seventeen-
minute sit-in in the Blake Middle School gymnasium. Some students went to show their
opinions on issues like gun control, but all wanted to honor the seventeen students who
lost their lives during the Parkland shooting in February. The gymnasium was packed as
students gathered en masse, sitting on both the floor and risers. As a student
organizer’s voice boomed over the crowd, the chatter swiftly subsided. A somber mood
rushed over the crowd. Every minute, a victim’s name was called out. Our school wasn’t
the only one to take part in an activity honoring the lives of the children who were killed
at Parkland; schools across the country participated in similar events. Many students
worldwide did a walk out to honor the seventeen victims. However, not every school is
as accepting as Blake. A simple search on Twitter can show a numerous amount of
tweets from schools prohibiting students’ walkouts and protests. While Blake students
feel lucky for the opportunities they have, they have shown immense respect for other
schools’ right to determine the safest option for their students. Dominic Bartolata, a
Blake student, remarked that he was “sure that (the schools) have their reasons to back
them up”. Mr. Vaughn remarked that “Each school is different... but I feel it’s important
for each student to have their voice”. He also commented that “I was very proud of (the
students)... I thought they came together in a meaningful way... I appreciate their
respect and seriousness for the school”. The Sit-In was a binding event where students
came together to make a difference, all while honoring the seventeen students who lost
their lives.
by Maeve K. and Morgan K.
On March 14, 2018, many Blake students took part in a seventeen-
minute sit-in in the Blake Middle School gymnasium. Some students went to show their
opinions on issues like gun control, but all wanted to honor the seventeen students who
lost their lives during the Parkland shooting in February. The gymnasium was packed as
students gathered en masse, sitting on both the floor and risers. As a student
organizer’s voice boomed over the crowd, the chatter swiftly subsided. A somber mood
rushed over the crowd. Every minute, a victim’s name was called out. Our school wasn’t
the only one to take part in an activity honoring the lives of the children who were killed
at Parkland; schools across the country participated in similar events. Many students
worldwide did a walk out to honor the seventeen victims. However, not every school is
as accepting as Blake. A simple search on Twitter can show a numerous amount of
tweets from schools prohibiting students’ walkouts and protests. While Blake students
feel lucky for the opportunities they have, they have shown immense respect for other
schools’ right to determine the safest option for their students. Dominic Bartolata, a
Blake student, remarked that he was “sure that (the schools) have their reasons to back
them up”. Mr. Vaughn remarked that “Each school is different... but I feel it’s important
for each student to have their voice”. He also commented that “I was very proud of (the
students)... I thought they came together in a meaningful way... I appreciate their
respect and seriousness for the school”. The Sit-In was a binding event where students
came together to make a difference, all while honoring the seventeen students who lost
their lives.
"Clarinet Talent Show"
Kathryn B.
The spotlight was shining directly on me and I swear, my heart stopped.
I slowly place one foot into the stone and wood gymnasium, out of the warm spring air, surrounded by my family. I was at the top of the concrete steps. They looked as though they went on forever, all the way down into nothing. Placing my hand on the wood railing, I looked down onto the crowded gym floor. I glimpsed the stage, the giant, ancient stage I was to be performing on later that night. I saw some of the other acts. All I heard was my heart thumping, even though the noise in the room was as loud as a stampede of elephants . People were walking, talking, yelling, laughing. So many people that it was as if the gym floor had been playing hide and seek with my eyes. My clarinet case handle felt rough in my clammy hand. I gripped it tightly, as if I let go and dropped it, my life would be over. My stomach churned, feeling more like hippos than butterflies.Why did I do this. I can’t do it. I’m too nervous. I am not brave enough.
“Why do I have to be here again?” questioned my sister. My dad gave her the dreaded hairy eyeball as my mom stated,“To support your sister, that’s why.”
As they all started to bicker, I saw my friend Sadie across the crowded gym floor. She had performed on stage before, so maybe she would have some words of wisdom or encouragement.
“ Bye guys! See you soon,” I exclaimed. I hugged my family tightly, and then sprinted down the steps towards Sadie.
“Hey!” I exclaimed. Sadie was playing trumpet in the talent show.
“Hi!”
We were just about to start talking when Mr. Mason, the director of the talent show boomed, “All performances in the coned area. No talking. Move it!” We became caught up in the storm of kids rushing to the area. Once we had all sat down, he took a program off of the stage. He read the acts in order of when they were going. I was number five after intermission.
“Everyone good?” he asked.
He received a weak chorus of “Yeah” in response. “Alright.”
He stepped onto the stage and clapped his hands loudly. The room became darker.
Mr, Mason bellowed, “Hello everyone,and welcome to Dale Street Schools twenty fifth annual TALENT SHOW!!!”
“ WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” the audience screamed.They had been really pumped up that night. First, there was a guitar act. Then a singer. And a group dancing. Then one single dancer. But that was when it all started. This one dancer.
I had seen my teacher, Mrs. Foley, across the gym in the middle of the act and had jumped up to say hi. She had inquired when I was performing that night. I told her, “5th act after intermission.” Her face fell.
“ Darn it! I have to leave before intermission for a party. I had wanted to post all of my students acts on my website.”
“I’ll go ask Mr. Mason if I can go next.” I crept over to Mr. Mason and asked.
“Well, I’ll have to make a few changes, but fine”, he replied. Darn it, I thought to myself. What have I gotten myself into, I asked myself.
I went backstage and snapped my clarinet out of its case. The pieces fit together perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle. Everything except for one piece. One piece of the puzzle. The reed. A reed is a clarinet piece that you blow on. It makes the sound. Come on. Don’t fail on me here. Please. I was near tears. Finally, I blew and it made sound.
I went back behind the curtain. My head felt like it was on ten-thousand loop-de-loops. My stomach was then filled with elephants. My knees were like earthquakes, trembling with each breath. Each breath was short and clipped.
“ And here is Kathryn Buckley, with Say You Won't Let Go on the clarinet!”I stepped out on stage. One foot in front of the other. You got this. Somehow, my body makes it to the center of the stage. I squinted out into the crowd and immediately regretted it. The lights were blinding me. I close my eyes. To the audience it must have looked like I was really professional , closing my eyes as I play. But the real reason was because I was blind and might have walked off the edge of the stage if I open them. I waited for the audience to settle down. I blew once. I blew again. Oh no. It won’t get any sound out, I’m on stage and no sound is coming out! I blew harder. My clarinet made the worst noise you could imagine. It sounded like a constipated cow crossed with a chicken having its head cut off. It wasn’t pretty, and I was completely horrified and humiliated. I wished I could sink into the floor. What if I would’ve had to run off stage like they do in the movies?! Thoughts were racing through my head at incredible speeds. Wait. What if it was only one note? One blow? Just try one more time.I played one more note. Thank God. I play the perfect note. Phew.
As soon as I played that note, I relaxed. My fingers were flying over the keys. I knew the song by heart. I didn’t need any music. The time flew by, and it was over as soon as it had began. The last note swooped and fluttered through the air. The light had began to seep into my eyes as I opened them. But I hadn’t needed to see. Only the sound of hundreds of hands clapping and ear piercing whistles told me everyone is on their feet. I bowed and my hand went up to wave. I walked offstage with more confidence than I had ever had.
After the show was over, hugs buried me. As they did, I thought to myself. Huh. I didn’t think I could perform on stage. Look at me now! I did it! I am definitely stronger than I had ever thought. I was so proud of myself. I would definitely do it again, and next time, I won’t be so nervous!
The “Magical” Collide
By: Sophia 6th grade
Speed. It's a funny thing, really. The thrill of the wind on your face as you rush down the mountain. But, Newton was right about an moving object needing another object to stop it, and sadly, I have proof.
My family and I were skiing at Hotel Der Baer in Austria over Christmas Break. We were staying with my grandparents, my aunt, uncle, and my cousins. I was three years old. That may seem inexperienced but my family adores skiing. Also, I never said I was good at it- but that didn't stop my three year old self from going as fast as humanly possible. After this trip though, I wouldn’t try to bolt down the mountain. I was thrilled because it was the first time I had ever skied with my cousins from Germany. My mom still made me take ski lessons, even though I didn't want to. She said ‘it would be valuable for me’ but I think it was because she didn't want to do all green trails for the whole vacation.
The freezing air blasted into my face as I sped down the mountain. At least that was what I wanted to have happen. I was actually on a tiny bunny hill feeling like a snail moving inch by inch. When I finally skied to the bottom of the “mountain”, I let the gentle pull of the magic carpet drag me back up.The magic carpet had a shield covering it to block the wind and stop snow from coming in. It was made of hard plastic and had pieces sticking out so the snow would roll right off it. As I slowly made my way up, I glanced at the giant mountain. My heart was tugging me toward the snow-giant, longing to do something bigger besides this pile of sugar. Each time I reached the top of the hill, I tried going three times faster than the last, and each time, I fell four times more than the last.
“Sophia!” I heard my ski instructor say in a thick German accent that seemed to cover everyone on the tiny hill. I zoomed down the salt pile and when I reached her, I fell again. As I struggled to stand up, I glanced up at her. She was really young, about sixteen,and she always seemed very anxious. Her eyes darted from one child to another in a way that was clear she had not been a ski instructor for very long. Without looking down at me, she reached her hand down to help me up. I grabbed it and started heaving myself up when I slipped and landed on the ground again with a gentle thud. Her eyes snapped to me as she reached both hands down to help me up again. “Du fährst zu schnell- mach ein bischen langsamer!” she almost begged me. “You want me to go slower?” I thought. “Why on earth would I do that?” But, I mumbled a “Na gut” and then shuffled away.
As I reached the top of the hill for what seemed like the millionth time that day, I had a new determination. I was going to rocket down the mountain. I was going to go faster than the speed of light. I stood on top of the “mountain” and looked down at the bottom. As I put my skis in a pizza position, a small part of me- the sane part- told me not to do it. But, sadly, I didn't listen. One inch, two inches, three inches…..and I was going down. The wind pushed my hair back and it looked like my hair was floating above my head. I was speeding down the mountain, imagining myself going faster and faster until I was flying through the air. The feeling that I was above the clouds,above the gigantic trees, soaring over vast lakes, monstrous oceans, and wide valleys. The tiny people on the ground looked up at me as I waved at them. I circled the world and saw different cultures, and different food. I let the feeling fill me, like a bottle of water....when suddenly the jerk in my skis woke me from my daydream. I tried to force them back into the pizza position that the ski instructor had taught us but my legs wouldn't let me. The feeling that had just filled me suddenly felt like a bottle with a hole in it. The feeling drained from my face, along with my bravery. I tried to stop and I could feel the hot tears underneath my ski mask start to slide down my face....when I noticed the object in my path. The world seemed to stop in time, millions of eyes looked at me in slow motion as I went down the mountain, only me going fast. Then I screamed. The kids on the hill rushed out of the way, just in time. I hit the magic carpet with a thunderous bang….and then everything went black.
When I woke the first thing I noticed was the pain. My head was throbbing. My eyes tried to open but it wasn't much use,everything seemed so blurry, like everything was covered in a layer of fuzz. For a moment I thought I was at the ocean. I could hear waves crashing so loud that everything sounded like I was underwater. Nothing but seagulls could be heard. Then, I realized that it wasn't seagulls. Instead, it was the blaring noise of ambulance sirens and the quiet chop chop chop of what seemed like a helicopter. I also noticed my mom, who was calmly talking to a woman and gently rocking my head. I tried to move my head but the pain from it almost made me throw up. So I just laid it down once again and fell asleep. I woke up a couple times in the next 2 hours. Once, I woke up and my mom and I were in the ambulance. “Mom” I coughed weekly. “Honey everything will be fine just go back to sleep.” My mom gently murmured. “But Mommy ” I complained. “What happened?” “You hit your head now go back to sleep.” she replied. I gratefully obeyed and fell back asleep. An hour later I woke up again. I was being wheeled into some sort of room with some doctors, and then I got swallowed by the darkness once again.
I don't really remember what happened for the rest of the day because I was really drowsy. But, apparently I had gotten four stitches on my head. I had been right about the helicopter. Apparently the ski instructor called both a helicopter and a an ambulance, but my Mom told the helicopter driver that we didn't need it. Even though I had experienced an accident, and that was not enjoyable, I still learned something from it. I learned that even though I would have rather this not have happened, the rest of my vacation was amazing, and I wasn't going to focus on the one bad thing when there were so many other amazing experiences to focus on.
Black out poetry
By: Annika Grade 6 |
Song by: Rihanna
Flower poem
By: Annika
grade 6
By: Annika
grade 6
Hand On Notes
By Annika grade six
By Annika grade six
Snow by Annika B. Grade 6