Forest

With warm weather approaching, we thought it would be appropriate to share a poem that highlights the beauty and mystique of nature.

Forest

An ethereal mist shrouds pristine nature.
Mellifluous birds call in a graceful harmony.
Abnormal creatures gallantly stride;
They advance through intricate foliage.

Crystalline lagoons beam with life,
A plethora of aquatic life forms habituate it.
Sun rays produce littered glints of life,
Blinding fauna that are nearby.

An eerie shriek silences all evidence of movement.
A full, baritone growl follows with a suppressed crack.
Frantic feet squabble over fallen leaves,
Disappearing into the nocturnal woods.

Gianna R., 9th grade

Inspired by Current Events . . .

Maddie T., an eighth grade student, was inspired to write the following poem after a discussion regarding politics she had with her father.

An interesting linguistic footnote here:  The word "crevasse" may sound a lot like "crevice" but the scale is much  different.  The dictionary defines "crevasse" as "a fissure, a deep cleft in glacial ice or in the earth's surface."  Way bigger than a crevice, eh?

The Cracks and Crevasses

The floor of Congress is a battlefield where nothing is done,
Sell your views or your voice is hung,
Two opposing forces where a stalemate has begun.

A masquerade by brilliant actors,
Created by a myriad of factors.
History is not what they lack,
Rather they succeed
In their money-making knack.

Where does my voice fit in this?
I am either one or the other, waiting to be dismissed.

Line drawn down the middle,
Who can explain this untaught riddle?

Maddie T., eighth grade

The World is Too Much With Us

You may be familiar with William Wordsworth's poem, "The World is Too Much With Us."  It is a poem about the loss of wonder and imagination in a fast-paced, secular world.  In an eighth grade Advanced class, students lifted the first two lines of this classic and then developed it into a poem about the materialism they observe in the world around them.  This linked to their study of the dystopian novel Fahrenheit 451.  Collin V., an eighth grader, wrote the following poem, using Wordsworth's first two lines. 

The world is too much with us, late and soon.
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers,
Going to the grocery store to buy meaningless flowers.
Everyday our spending grows, it towers.
We waste our time in buying junk.
It piles up like useless gunk.
We think it's fun,
What we should shun.
Getting and spending we lay waste our power,
Mindlessness grows, and our wallets cower. 

Collin V., eighth grader

P. S.  One student commented during class, "Is Wordsworth his real last name?  It's no wonder he became a poet!"  While we can't reveal Collin's last name, we can tell you it has quite a poetic ring to it too!

drawing by Josephine D.

Two Poems Inspired by A Master

After reading Fahrenheit 451 by the great Ray Bradbury, eighth grade students drafted stories or poems inspired by the symbols in their reading.  Here are two poems.  Appropriately, one is about books, and the other one is about a river, an image introduced at the end of the novel to aid the protagonist in his escape.

For rough drafts, they are substantive and solid.  Suggest revisions in your comments!

Poem 1, Untitled

perfectly yellowed,
dusted with history,
printed in stiff, official ink,
stone to stone,
clock to clock,
books are timeless
with powerful plots

these pieces of literature
dictatorships in disguise,
bombs on a timer,
counting down,
till knowledge explodes
causing confrontation,
opposing views

books are power
held in your hands,
fed to the fire
when causing pain,
good or evil
left in the eyes
of the beholder

Madeline T., eighth grade


The River

Slow, steady, and graceful,
it takes away the fears,
the pain, the destruction,
of a long lost soul.
It provides a new chance
to those of the broken
like old abandoned towns,
rebuilt into a city of hope.

No longer shall the expressionless faces linger,
no longer shall blank, dull bodies live.
New life is brought with every sway
of each stroke of the river's tides.

Follow the river
dear friends of mine,
stay true and open,
and always kind.
You'll find your way
of hope and peace.
Follow that riverbend,
and don't ever stray.

Emily J., eighth grade

sketch by Julia B., eighth grade

Our Longest Poem So Far

So yes, this piece will take you a little bit of time to read, but it's so worth it.  Let's face it, every poet writes about the seasons at some point, but this particular poem is so rich in word choice and figurative language that it stands in a class all by itself.  It is written by Colin M., eighth grader, and the artwork at the end is by Julia S., also in eighth grade.

The Kingdom of Seasons

An ominous wind rushes by

As Autumn leaves for battle
And a cold front sets in
It chains plants in cells of ice
And forces mammals into hiding
Winter is here.

He rules with an iron fist, frost coating his throne

As he turns rolling landscape to vapid tundra
Like a coat of varnish, ice encases lakes
The ocean turns cold and violent
The hills’ greenness ebbs away as alabaster mounds coat them
And the ground solidifies to permafrost
Winter rules with an iron fist.

Then the allies of Summer and Autumn

Rise up against the inclement oppression
And strike back with warm winds of calefaction
To vanquish the piercing mistrals
The bold leader of the rebellion takes command and frees the wildlife
Spring has retaliated.

The ice recedes, leaving life in its wake

The ground releases its hold on the lush green plants
They spring up, drowning themselves in first glimpses of sunlight
Mammals creep out of hiding places and find themselves in a captivating world of warmth
The sun smiles upon all, golden rays like an angel’s hair dripping from the sky
Bugs add a symphony of chirps at night, adding life to the sticky darkness
The flowers blossom and add splashes of purple and yellow to the green hills
Spring’s rule is fair and great, albeit short.

Spring’s sister now takes the crown, and rules over the landscape of luminescence

The sun grows powerful and strong, blazing like fire in a furnace
Animals sit in the shade of massive candy-colored trees
The air becomes swollen and heavy, resting like a weight on the shoulders of the living
Summer has come.

The animals celebrate in the glory of Summer, enjoying their freedom

The shade grows more and more visible till it becomes solid and cool
Animals cool down in the abundant water and catch silvery fish
Zephyrs float by like gifts to the overheated
And the cold that once held them back seems a distant memory.

Then a victory cry is sounded, and in ride men on horses in the distance

The general leads in a crowd of triumphant warriors
And he kneels to Summer in his golden armor, with stains of blood upon it
As he is coroneted and sits in the throne
Autumn has returned.

Autumn, though wise in his own way, cannot stop the illness brought back by his soldiers

The trees bend and lose their leaves, sickened by this newfound virus
Animals make hiding places in fear of what is soon to come
And the air seems to hold its breath in wait
Autumn is sent off to battle, unable to control his kingdom

Then there is a crack of a whip

And from nowhere comes the familiar cold of Winter
He comes to reclaim his throne in the dark times of the kingdom
And the trees and plants and animals can do nothing
As he locks them down with his icy tactics
And tempts Spring to try again.

by Colin M., eighth grader

artwork by Julia S., eighth grader

P. S. Sevenatenine apologizes for recent errors on the post dated 11/14.  The post was published prematurely when we thought it was saved as a draft.  All has been corrected, and the responsible party has since been fired from Sevenatenine :)

Inspiration

Sometimes inspiration for writing and for art comes from someone very close to us -- a pet.  This sketch by Claire G. captures this perfectly.  Submit a short piece about your pet via the "Comments" link at the bottom of this post. And, if you have a minute to amble through a great poem, see the poem "Dogs" by published poet Aaron Kramer.  It's available for free from The Writer's Almanac, a great website that lets you subscribe to a daily poetry email. This one was published on Tuesday.  

http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2011/11/08

What Is Courage?

Courage

Standing up for what is right,

Who bullies,
Who laughs,
You do not.
Instead of watching,
You stand up.
Your courage shines bright,
Stopping wrong,
Defending right.

You are one of the few.

If only there were more,
But you are courageous,
For many reasons.
You are courageous,

Because others cannot do what you do.

So do not stop doing what should be done,
Even if there are very few.
You are courageous.

Let all others see you,
Adore you and act as you do,
In order for others to be saved.

by Matt W., ninth grader
sketch by Elijah S., ninth grader 

Twilight Insights

Below is an interesting perspective of what occurs while we are all sleeping, written by a seventh grade student.

Nighttime by Julian L.

What happens at night
Do the buttersticks slide in the sink like skateboarders
Do the baseballs throw themselves around like leaves in the wind
Do cars honk their horns like bass in a song
Do books jump from their shelves like sky divers from a plane
Do clocks spin their hands like a merry-go-round
Do faucets shoot out water like a broken dam
Or do household items just stay silent and still like we think they do?