Student Poetry
MARCH 2012
I was shaped this way
By Deronisha Arceneaux
I was just a little girl
Still skinny, burettes with twirls
My mama brand me to be picky, smart, and clean
It was proven by the age of thirteen
Raised on the Southeast side
Where drugs and violence deprive.
I always tell my self I have to get out the hood.
Before one day I be misunderstood.
Story starts on saint low
When our house was broke into by the back doe
Moved off of Airport and MLK at eight
To find that kids stayed out too late.
Bike racings to the stop sign
Eating spicy pickles in the wintertime.
Around 2007 all the kids moved off the street and I was left with a kink.
My mom continuously bought pets to settle my boredness
They became pregnant and I had to aboard them.
Daddy came home from jail at dark
Made it up to me at Astroworld Park.
Our life was put back on track
Because all of the feelings came back.
Went up to Iowa to spend the summer.
Got into a fight with my cousins, what a bummer.
Never knew my accent was strong
Until I was judged wrong.
Spent a lot of time in Louisiana
It is so country
I felt way too clever.
Middle school hit
I was present in a bunch of filth
First years of track
I wish I could rewind them back. Sixth grade was my best year
Because I always had a bunch of cheer. Now im there at YWCPA
And all of my
Thoughts, experiences, and memories
Are still at display.
February 2012
Continuing our Winter Series at Park Place Regional Library, in addition to our WITS student, two local students attending St. Christopher’s Catholic School read poems.
The Pirate and the Tree By Chinyere Akuechiama – 4th grade at St. Christopher’sThere once was a pirate Brave and bold Till he sailed across the sea And found some gold. He dug the X to find the key Then he thought Who will I be? He found the key Then opened the treasure And then his parrot said What a pleasure He saw it was green and brown too Then the pirate said What shall I do? He took it out very gently Then his parrot said That’s not plenty Then he thought Is it a bee? No said the parrot It’s a tree The Ocean By Jimmy Phan – 4th Grade St. Christopher’s
The ocean is big The ocean is blue It has a lot of fish More than you. The fish are small The plankton are green They are so small They are the size of a jellybean. Fish are big Fish are small Fish are short Fish are tall. Fish are green Fish are red When they go to sleep They don’t have a bed. There is a Pacific Ocean It is very big, too There is also the Atlantic And it’s big, round and blue. WITS Student: Jonathan S. ( 3rd grade at St. Mark’s Episcopal School) JonathanNice
Funny
Smart
Wishes to go to Heaven
Dreams of helping the poor
Wants to travel to every place in the world
Who wonders what’s inside a black hole
Who fears evil
Who likes God
Who believes in Jesus
Who loves my mom
Who plans to be an artist
I like myself!
The Declaration
The Declaration is as loud as an elephant.
It’s as bumpy as a road and smells as bad as a sewer.
It probably tastes as bad as a rotten apple.
It was written by Thomas Jefferson, one of the best men ever.
The Declaration is very, very famous.
Fifty two people signed it.
It was written for our independence.
January 2012
For our Winter Series at Park Place Regional Library we invited four students from St. Christopher’s Catholic School to be part of our program, and from Meta-Four Houston International Poetry Team, Robyn Bria Adams.St. Christopher Catholic School
Jasmine Maldonado – 5th Grade
Wolves
Wolves are nice creatures
They can be pets
But they are wild animals
And they hate the vet.
Wolves are friendly
They are like dogs.
Wolves sleep long
And they sleep like a log!
Yasmine Ortiz – 5th Grade
St. Christopher School
St. Christopher School is very cool.
I’m very glad this school is not bad.
Our classes are good.
We are always in a good mood.
No scary stories
We don’t have worries.
We really love this cool school.
Jacob Martinez – 5th Grade
Life
Life is long.
Life can be a song.
You shouldn’t do anything wrong.
In life there’s a time to play.
In life there’s a time to say.
You should say hey.
Kiutza Leija – 5th Grade
About My School
St. Christopher is a good school.
The students here are kind.
The activities we do are cool.
We have great minds.
Robyn Bria Adams
A High School Senior, Robin Bria Adams, already has a long list of accomplishments to her credit including: representing Houston, Texas in the Semi-Finals at the 2011 Brave New Voices 14th Annual International Youth Poetry Slam Festival and being crowned the 2011 Brave New Voices International MC Olympics Champion at the UC Berkeley Chevron Auditorium – International House; San Francisco, California (July 22, 2011); Authored collection of poetry (2009 – 2011); Performed Original Poetry and Christian Raps; Outbreak Youth Ministry Events; Windsor Village United Methodist Church; Houston, Texas (July 2010).
Recess
I wish I could burn these scars into ashes,
that resemble sand-boxes where we first met.
See,
we had that elementary type of love.
That check yes or no box type of connection—
That you shared your oreos with me
at lunchtime type of affection.
We carved our names into sidewalks
just so we could say we walked with love.
That was back when
we used to be scared of our own shadows
so we tried convincing ourselves we were someone worth following.
See its funny how simple things use to be,
between you and me.
I was a jungle gym you were my high beams that held me into place.
Often times I forgot that I couldn’t stand without you.
See,
gravity played cupid with our hearts,
making us fall for each other.
This wasn’t part of the plan because I fell so hard
that I forgot to teach myself how to land.
I thought we had that ken and barbie type of love.
But looking back on it,
Its kind of funny how we’re attracted to something so fake.
Because you grew up to be a player
and I was your cello.
I just wanted to be held but instead you string me along,
playing heart broken notes that produce painful symphonies.
While I tried to stay composed.
See, Love had a different meaning back then.
You made my heart play hopscotch
and skip beats like scratch cd’s.
While I played monkey bars on your rib cages trying to cling to your heart.
But I see these ice cream relationships always seem to melt away.
So maybe when were old and gray.
We’ll look back and say
or pray at another day to play
at recess.
November 5, 2011:
David Avent, a 4th grade student, read these two original poems:
Young Pilgrim, India, 1980
Look at my red and yellow scar.
It tells a story of my past.
Look in my eyes.
They tell a story about me.
My eyes carry a clue to what happened to me.
I am a survivor.
I am tougher than I look.
I carry a scar around on my forehead.
I am from India.
I have seen horrible deaths.
My brothers and sisters died.
That doesn’t stop me.
~
Going to Cuba
I will leave Houston
on a very good note.
I will go to Cuba,
walk in the 90 degree heat.
I will go to Cuba,
dance in the streets for fun.
I will go to Cuba,
make beans out of scratch.
I will go to Cuba,
swim in the warm, blue water.
I will go to Cuba,
learn how to speak espanol.
I will go to Cuba,
eat plantains for breakfast.
I will go to Cuba.
It will be gorgeous at night.
By David Avent
Jemma’s exceptional poetry and prose won several UK competitions, and following an award in London, in April 2008, she was featured as ‘Person of the Week’ on the ABC World News, and on the front page of the Houston Chronicle. This May, she received a gold medal in the 2011 Scholastic Art and Writing Awards at a ceremony at Carnegie Hall.
Jemma has cerebral palsy, and as a result she is unable to sit or walk unaided, and cannot talk. She writes using a special onscreen computer keyboard which she touches using a xylophone stick, with facilitation from her mother or an aide at school. Her computer is also a communication device, allowing her to ‘speak’ what she has written. She is also learning to use a specially adapted computer, using her eyes to navigate the screen.
Jemma’s mother read two poems she composed at WITS and, by request from Public Poetry, a set of three poems about hurricane Ike. All are printed below:
A Dancer’s House
This house is very empty. There are only cleared-out spaces. But this house has something special. This house is a dreamer. It wakes me up early in the morning So that I can dance to its ancient song of praise. This house is set where two rivers meet and rush. Have you ever danced until the thieving sunset stole your light of day? Because I have, in my house. The blue stones in the rain are the music that I dance to. My house is made of brick and wood. But my house has a soul. Believe it. My house is old, but comfortable. I touch the rusted pipes that still let me live. My pliés and pirouettes are better when I’m in my house on the top floor. My blood, pumping out imagination until the day draws to its close. I leap and bound on my garden path. I skip across the quiet river. A peaceful house, a peaceful setting, a dancer’s house. Young Girl, Afghanistan Look into my eyes and you will see the great terrors I have been through. The pain of seeing my country being destroyed. Even in the darkest of times; my eyes still glow, glowing like the single light that emerges a strong light. Even in the darkest of time, the bright fire in my soul sets off a single spark The color of my clothing is bright, but not bright enough to comfort me. The wind tears through my blue robe, and a strange man asks me to take it off. I do. It feels wonderful. The cool wind blows against my face. My blue eyes suddenly see a bright light, and then, the man is gone. Look into my eyes and you will see the great horrors my people have seen. I am sad, but I will keep pressing on. Because there is a fire, deep, deep, deep in my soul. A single spark. I have to let my tears go. Yes.





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