By: GraysonStiles
I step back and shoot
this shot is for everything
the trophy is mine.
3 secconds are left
the whole building goes silent
I bring home the gold.
They pass me the ball
the game is now in my hands
I have won the game
By: GraysonStiles
I step back and shoot
this shot is for everything
the trophy is mine.
3 secconds are left
the whole building goes silent
I bring home the gold.
They pass me the ball
the game is now in my hands
I have won the game
By: Brooke Sohn
Sitting on the cool, blue mat with my second family
The bright colorful strobe lights hit out faces
Suddenly the lights began to dim leaving only a bright light on the enormous stage
The announcer starts to speak with a loud, clear voice
He starts with sixth place
The disappointment in their faces brought me closer to excitement
Sitting in a circle with my eyes closed, clenching onto my friends hand
The rumbling voice calls up the last two finalists
I stand next to my friends and glare at the other team
Out in the stands parents and coaches bite their nails in what is soon to come
As we were sitting there, you could feel the floor vibrating.
Cheer Extreme Thunder he announced
Jumping up and down full of excitement
Tears of joy streaming down our faces
Gold and blue confetti shooting everywhere
The crowd stands to their feet and cheers for us
Walking into the room labeled champion with blaring music playing as we enter
I walk up to fitting ring table and hold out my right hand
The cold metal against my index fingers sends goosebumps to my arms
Shivers travel up my spine and I close my eyes and smile with satisfaction
Reflection questions:
1.The type of poem I wrote was a Sensory detail poem.
2.I chose to do this event as a sensory detail poem because there is a lot of imagery in the event, there was see, touch, and hear all throughout that day. 3.The tone of my poem is triumph and joy
4.The theme of my poem is stay focused and don’t underestimate yourself.
5.One example of a sensory detail is “ The bright color strobe lights hit our faces” this would be a see sensory detail. Another example of a sensory detail is “ the cold medal against my index fingers sends goosebumps to my arms” this would be a touch sensory detail.
6.I could reverse this poem by putting my feet in my competitions shoes and I could make my poem about losing if I was the other team. Another way I coulds reverse my poem is if I recorded the part where I actually competed and not the winning part.
7.It was easy because this event was not that long ago so I have a clear vision of what happened.
8.I am very satisfied because I think it came out great with a lot of senses.
Look at the gray sky
Raindrops falling in large drops
Landing on the ground
Thunder clapping loud
Lightning breaking through the sky
Electrifying
Wind is picking up
Swirling in a large spiral
Forming a twister
Cold winds picking up
Lifting me off of the ground
Dropping me up high
By:Sydney Andrea
We hope for a day when children can play,
Safe and free from harm.
Where lockdown drills remain just drills,
A future where no childrens lives are lost.
No more parents mourning their children,
Whos lives were taken from them.
No more bullets shattering across a school floor.
Our youth protected now and forever more.
Guns running through the halls,
Angels of death, terrifying to all.
Time is running out, tic, tic, tic.
No blood stained across the school brick.
A future with no lives lost in our schools,
No children scared on their morning cummute.
We hope for a day when our children can play in their currently deadly schools.
Dori Bruno
The Small Moments of Life
Sitting in a car with all of your friends
Windows rolled down
Wind whisking through your hair
Your favorite song blasting
While everyone in the car is singing at the top of their lungs
Feeling of genuine glee
Being overwhelmed by pure delight
The aroma of fresh, summer air
When you can’t stop smiling
You’re laughing so hard that your stomach starts to hurt
You think to yourself
If I could stay in this moment for the rest of my life
I would
All your problems suddenly disappear
When you’re filled with optimism
Filled with love
Filled with pure joy
Then the sun starts to set
And the sky becomes breathtaking
Different colors painted perfectly
While looking at perfectly painted sky
You think to yourself
Life is magnificent
Isn’t it?
Poetry Publication Reflection
The Babbling Brook
By: Rishi Bhogaraju
By: Ashley Walters
A peaceful shadow
had settled over the room.
I blinked comfortably,
though unsure of why I was awake.
A whimper caused me to startle,
propping myself on my elbows.
A shadow circled by my feet.
I watched it grow closer.
Soft fur brushed my arms
and my vision was blocked by black.
I extended my hand,
not used to her affection.
I was struck suddenly
by how hot the room was.
She was panting
and nudging herself under my arms.
My eyes blinked rapidly as tears welled up.
Was this how it would end for her?
Tucked under my arm and overheated?
I pulled her closer,
shutting my eyes as I hoped for the best.
By: Gaby Figueroa-Badel
The second example of figurative language is:
The second revision I made was:
By: Christine Jang
I slowly open my groggy eyes.
Swaddled by my feathery covers.
The murmur of each raindrop falling onto the hard rooftop
Fills my ears.
My colorless,
Yet simplistic
Room is dimmed by the half opened curtains,
Looking out to the gray sky and faintly painted clouds.
I pull my curly, coarse hair up like a bird’s nest.
My clumsy hand hovers over the cold, hard bed stand
Obtaining my awkward-fitting, smudged glasses,
That sits comfortably on my small nose.
The subtle sound of quiet breathing coming from my sister’s room
Fills the empty hallway.
Vigilant of making a loud noise,
Cautious of disrupting the peaceful silence of roaring stillness.
I walk down the narrow staircase,
My nose following the pervaded aroma of gingerly, warm honey tea.
The glimpse of the small living room lamp,
Reflects off my father’s glasses,
Who was rushing out of the house,
Grabs the keys with clashing rumble.
He looks up with a surprised and affectionate smile,
Kisses my cold, untouched forehead with a warm kiss.
The wooden, front door is creaked open.
The sound of the pouring hard rain emits through the whole, silent house.
Soon after, the door is closed.
Immediately hushing the interrupting buzz of the busy outside.
Reflection:
Equality
By: Liliana Gines
“I swear to the Lord, I still can’t see why Democracy means, everybody but me.”
Equality cackles at me, for it’s nothing but a utopia for the rich, written on paper, nothing more
Our suffering is the source of their happiness
Representatives are my voice, my eyes, but they are not heard nor given a care in the world
For I am the invisible man, nonexistent, a statue that everyone passes by and no one sees
I scream with no sound and weep with no tears
For my voice has been taken and my tear ducts run dry
But I shan’t be a statue any longer!
I WILL be the change!
I WILL be the hope!
I WILL create the Promised Land!