Waiting With a Story

Poem By: Nicole A., 7th Grade, New York

Author’s Note: My dad was the one who inspired me to write this poem. He always told me stories about himself and myself when we both were little.

Ranpu drawing by: Thing3

Ranpu drawing by: Thing3

My dad never misses a chance to tell me about his life

After tucking me in at night,

he sits on the edge of the bed to tell me the stories that are on his mind

When we are waiting in line at the ice rink,

he tells me what he liked to play when he was a boy,

When the traffic is as endless as an ocean

he tells me about what he was like in school

In the waiting rooms of the doctor’s office,

I can’t even hear the doctor call my name

because my dad is telling me about the pranks he used to pull on his little brother

These stories always will put a smile on my face

when I am sad as a world without sunshine,

and will always make me laugh like I was 5 again

I will carry these stories with me like my family necklace

And I will have them with me when I am stuck in line again

only but this time in the future,

I will be the one telling my life like a story


Seals photograph by: Dogzrule106

Seals photograph by: Dogzrule106

Thinking Beyond

Poetry by: Claudia C., 7th Grade, New York

Author’s Note: I was inspired to write this because my brother is leaving for college and I was wondering: will all the memories we made over the year travel with him?

Boy in Field digital painting by: sakuraxls2

Boy in Field digital painting by: sakuraxls2

As you pack your bags

I wonder,

Will these memories

travel with you?

I’m going to miss hearing the

little white lies about Ian like you were a gossip girl

The scorching hot summer days

we played ball

The year all the Corry’s

were in the field day race

The holidays we spent at Grandma’s

were like a circus

Jumping in and out of pools

like we were kangaroos

Watching TV was just a blast

as we sat there glued

to the floor

As you pack your bags,

I hope

these memories

travel with you


Poem By: Lucy T.

Girl in the Grass drawing by: Sonia M., Age 11, Chicago, Illinois

Girl in the Grass drawing by: Sonia M., Age 11, Chicago, Illinois

I’m laying here,

wanting everything, and everyone,

to disappear,

for everyone to stop scurrying their feet,

from here to there,

I want everything to be peaceful and quiet,

I’m waiting for then.

I’m laying here,

the sharp spiky grass,

poking and prodding,

trying to get me to pour out all of my secrets,

but I don’t,

I just wait.

Letting everything in the sky go to a blur,

tuning out the rest of the world,

as the sweet smell of summer,

drifts away,

I am waiting here..

I’m laying here,

looking for some hope,

just a small morsel,

and then, there’s,




And then a whole sky full,

full of wonders,

full of dreams,

full of hope.

A moment,

for us all to be happy,

I am no longer waiting,

This is my place.

Gallery  —  Posted: May 1, 2015 in Animals, Click a pic, Creative, Nature, PHOTOGRAPHY, Random, Water
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Secret Handshakes

Poem By: Laura C., 7th Grade, New York
Author’s Note: [This poem is] about how sentimental secret handshakes can be, and it was inspired by my best friend. 
HandsHearts photograph by: erynwade

HandsHearts photograph by: erynwade

Ordinary handshakes have no meaning to them.
Nothing but an empty greeting to a formal stranger.
What makes secret handshakes special are the secrets that they hold.
Secret handshakes are created for those who have earned them,
For those who have stood by you, and held your hand.
They are made to return the favor.
Secret handshakes hold the obnoxiously loud dance parties.
They hold the online friendship quizzes and the ‘truth-or-dare’ sessions.
They hold the carefree food fights and the scary stories that kept you awake all night.
Secret handshakes hold the saved seats at lunch.
They hold the all-caps texts about the mind-blowing plot twists,
and the hilarious videos you just knew would make the other smile.
Secret handshakes hold the never-ending sleepovers,
and the exhausting pillow fights,
and the “borrowed” clothes that are hiding somewhere in your closet.
Secret handshakes hold the trust and acceptance.
They hold the complaints and confessions and apologies.
They hold the unexpected arguments,
and the make-ups,
and the healing hugs.
Secret handshakes hold the good and the bad.
They hold they ways you’ve changed each other,
and the light you’ve brought into each others’ lives.
And best of all,
they are a secret to everyone else
but you.
Drawing by: Cassandra K., Age 12, Fairview, New Jersey

Drawing by: Cassandra K., Age 12, Fairview, New Jersey