First Meeting: Amazing Poets Already!

During our first meeting with had a little fun creating poetry from a list of words we all brainstormed together.  Here are a couple of poems from club members.

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Summer Indoors

by Tess Segal

6th Grade

Beach?

Sweat.

Sand?

Sweat.

Vacation?

Sweat.

Sun, swimming, camp?

Sweat. Heat.

Basketball? Lake?

SWEAT. HUMIDITY.

Fun?

Netflix!

Sleeping, relaxing!

Drinks, watermelon, smoothies!

STUPENDOUS!

Perfectly lazy.

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Back to School

by Max Powers & Zach Rubin

6th Grade

Reading books in class

Walking to the bus

Student Council club

Homework paranoia

Portables are a prison

Rain is terrible

Birds chirp & bugs buzz

Test grades are on Pinnacle

Notebooks are too large

Sleep is my spirit

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It's never too late to express yourself with words!

Join us at our next meeting

Poetry is....

Today was the first meeting for the 2014-15 school year.  Creating writing club members started out the year by writing a group poem describing poetry using similes and metaphors to compare poetry to an animal, activity, food, and a place.

Which line do you like the most? What is poetry like to you? Respond in the comments!

If you're interested in joining the club, please come to our next meeting on Wednesday, October 1 @ 8:45 in room 135.

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by Grady Riester, Grant Kaplan, Valentina Villarroel, and Rishab Jain

Poetry is like skating.
Picking up speed
not waiting as your ideas develop,
and maybe you mess up,
but you get back on,
and keep going...

Poetry is like a field of roses in spring
Sprouting a new bud with every expression
of the soul;
forming one large plane of ideas.

Poetry is like a Thanksgiving feast with your family
overflowing with emotion,
full of variety to fit everyone's preference,
and a feeling of satisfaction by the end.

Poetry is like a human:
diverse, unique, and full of expressions.
Poetry has many turns and falls
until matured to perfection with a purpose.

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by Julia Rubin, Harriette Hanley, Laura Bea, and Autumn Desanti

Poetry is like a peach.
Juicy, colorful with a deep pit
Full of surprises in every one.

Poetry is like flowing water
along the paper
with the end being refreshing.

Poetry is like New Orleans.
All the ideas and all the cultures
flowing together to create
one harmonious thought.

Poetry is like a puppy dog
always fun
and making others happy
and filled with joy.

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by Jordyn Kurlander, Hannahh Isaacs, Ileana Toro, and Kian Bagherlee

Poetry is a soft flow of words
like a wave.
The wave goes in and out softly,
taking in sand to be abandoned
in the middle of the sea
as our minds are abandoned in though.

A poem is like a deer
Giving you mixed feels of
happiness
peacefulness
and at times
curiosity
of the deep thoughts
it has inside itself.

Poetry is like a tall building
staring at us.
People walking everywhere,
and statues look like
they are looking at us.

Poetry is as scrumptious as a cake.
The different words and thoughts bursting
after you let it bake.
Craving more
after each inspirational bite.
Pulling out the mix for a long
waiting period to be spread with happiness
at first sight.

Testing by Maya Merchant

The beautiful eye shadow

Glitters on her eye lids;

the liquid liner

and mascara,

are irritating.

The nail polish cracks her delicate nails,

but we don’t care.

Better she suffer than us.

Tears form,

her eyes are very red;

in an instant

she is blind.

The concealer seeped into her sockets.

She is writhing in pain.

“The Loreal concealer 312 is not working”

says one scientist.

“She’s not going to make it!” another cries.

“Euthanize her!” they shout.

And just like that, Rabbit 3-9A41 is dead.

But better her than us. 

Fall Theme Poetry

by Katherine Gibson

Change

I balance my foot in the center of the rocking boat.

Around me, pinecones and sap waft their sweet and spikey aroma throughout the air.

I throw the orange vest over my pudgy bun, and grab the wooden stick at my side, whose purpose is to propel my reflection in the water.

Push. Pull. Push. Pull.

I take off into the mirror of glass crashing and smashing it as I trudge along.

I look to the left and see the green leaves of summer tumbling and slowly, slowly dancing to the ground.

I look to my right and the foliage of fall is blossoming on the treetops.

If the leaves know their purpose and when their time is to push on and when to give up, shouldn't I too?

I'm caught in the middle of two seasons, which so happen to be the middle of my life. 

I close my eyes and imagine my path.

More Fall Theme Scratching

by Julia Perillo

The Fall Feeling

Leaves crunch underneath my feet

A peaceful breeze drifts down the street.

I snuggle by the fire as I read a great book,

And I marvel at the pictures my friends and I took.

Excitement for the holidays surges through everyone,

Halloween parties and family gatherings are so much fun!

Maybe the leaves do not change and it does not get that cold,

But I still love Florida’s fall so much that it will never get old.

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by Sabrina Blandon

The Magic of Fall

     Once there was a 3^rd grader named Serina. She was an excellent student; she had good grades, but she didn’t have any friends. She would get picked on by bullies, and by this one girl who was the popular girl; her name was Stella. Everyday she would have two friends beside her; their names were Minx and Shannon. 

     “Look who it is, it’s Friendless,” Stella said one day. 

     “Not everyone is as lucky as you, Stella,” Minx said. 

     After that, Serina came home, crying.  The next day, after school, Serina went to her homeroom teacher’s classroom. 

     “Mrs. Mullens, can I stay here for a couple of minutes?” 

     “Ok, but shouldn’t you be getting home?” Mrs. Mullens asked, “Did you get started on that season project were you have to write about your favorite season and why?” 

     Serina nodded. Serina got home and started on her Season project. 

     That day the project was due, everyone went first and then Serina last. Everyone chose summer because school is out, but Serina chose fall. 

     “My favorite season is fall,” Serina was interrupted.

     “Like always, Serina sticks out like a sore thumb.” 
     But what Stella said didn’t stop Serina.  “I like fall because of all the different leaves. I like how everyday after school a kid can just jump into a pile of colors. I love how in the morning, I can see the fresh air swirling around with the different kinds of leaves. I love the colors, like the crisp red and golden orange, on the leaves, and how they are all so different. It feels like magic when it's fall. I also like how when fall happens, the trees get rid of their old selves and grow in new ones like a kid from glasses to contacts. That is why fall is my favorite season.” 

     After the bell rang, Serina would usually get picked on by Stella and her entourage, but that day was different. Two kids went up to Serina. 

     “Hi, I liked your piece," one kid commented. 

     “Thanks, what’s your name?”

     “I am Sophie and this is Eden.” After a couple of minutes of talking they finally became friends. After that day, Stella and her entourage never bullied her again. 

     Later on in her lifetime, Serina became a writer, and she created an organization about bullying and what to do to stand up to bullies. 

THE END 

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Fall Theme Scratching

This month, Falcon Scratchers wrote several fall-themed pieces.  Here are some of the pieces. (There are more to come!)

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by Ryan Bush

Abundance of colorful leaves plummet to the earth
Undying love of the football season continues and is indulged in
Tasty Thanksgiving turkey makes my mouth salivate
Unique Halloween costumes illuminate the night in fear
Marvelous sights are cherished as a result of a week off from school
Non-negotiable enjoyment as another year comes to the end and the cycle restarts

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by Rachel Schonberger

A teardrop gently rolls down my cheek.
The Summer has come to an end.
Trees turn into collages of colors.
I hope Fall never ends.
The season is beginning.
The sun shows even less.
As the school year commences,
My life turns into stress.
My desk is soon filled
With homework piled miles high.
But, I secretly hope
This school year will zip by.
Knocks hit the door.
And they yell, "Trick or Treat!"
I gaze upon the neighborhood,
And costumes fill the street.
Now my stomach's angry.
I ate and ate and ate.
How was I supposed to know
That candy was so great?
The weather is chilly
Like all the heat lamps have gone out.
"But Fall is not yet over!"
I declare without a doubt
The aroma fills the kitchen.
The turkey is all done.
The family gets together.
All the daughters, all the sons
We thank each other oh so much.
For all we have been through.
Thanks to this great season,
We reunited the whole crew.
The leaves are all gone.
Sweaters and scarves are required.
We'll have to wait nine months
Because autumn has expired.

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by Maya Merchant

Leaves
Falling all around me
Leaving the trees bare -
A whirlwind of colors.
It gets colder,
Darker,
And all I feel-
Are the leaves
Falling?
Goodbye,
I say,
To the sun.
I feel the cold
Upon us.
In my world,
All I know
is that it will be colder.
It will be darker.
It will be gloomier.
Leaves
Falling all around me -
Red and gold,
The colors of Gryffindor.
I smile
Because before it gets dark,
There will be light.
Before it gets cold,
There will be warmth.
Before it gets dreary,
There will be sun.
And it will be fall
Before winter.

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by Theresa Fonseca

Windswept
Fall: Commonly thought of as the time when the leaves change colors, it is something different in south Florida.  The palm trees refuse to shed their fronds, even to the persuasive tropical gusts, staying an annoyingly cheerful green all year.  
The wind, unable to move the leaves, flings my hair in front of my face, and I swallow a mouthful.  “Bleh,” I say as I clear the hair from my mouth.  I stop walking down the beach and take a step towards the water.  
Going in the water might be fun, it isn’t that cold really, but there is the problem of the jellyfish.  I start walking again, sidestepping one of the , then backtracking to examine it.  This time of year, its a moon jellyfish.  All circular bell, the pulsing top of a jellyfish that helps it move while small one inch feathered tentacles ring its body to snag its prey.  In the center of their bodies lies a flowering four-petaled dark purple design.  They are magnificent––until they wash up on the beach.  
Not sure if it is dead or alive, I scoop it up, along with the sand surrounding it, and toss it into the Atlantic.  White bubbles plume before I glimpse the jellyfish expand then glide into deeper waters.  
Huh.  Other places might have the colorful leaves, but few boast windswept jellyfish.  I kick at the sand, laugh quietly to myself, and continue my walk down the beach.