Category Archives: Young Writers (11-14)
The Sunny Days
The Sunny Days The sun stands high When these days are so long We take the hot black roof off the car It’s time for a trip To the lake We will swim And boat We will tube And kayak
The Sunny Days
The Sunny Days The sun stands high When these days are so long We take the hot black roof off the car It’s time for a trip To the lake We will swim And boat We will tube And kayak
Luke Bray, “Midnight Snack”
The gust in my face bone chilling numbness. The brilliant light from the inside tundra it scorched my eyes. Only to extend my hand into a labyrinth of obstacles I searched for what I required. There is no turning back,
Luke Bray, “Midnight Snack”
The gust in my face bone chilling numbness. The brilliant light from the inside tundra it scorched my eyes. Only to extend my hand into a labyrinth of obstacles I searched for what I required. There is no turning back,
Molly Libbey, Untitled
Black bean soup and baking of bread Never erase the troubled thoughts in my head My mother ill, my mother weak Of these fears I will never speak Days go by as I work and cook My passion once, now
Molly Libbey, Untitled
Black bean soup and baking of bread Never erase the troubled thoughts in my head My mother ill, my mother weak Of these fears I will never speak Days go by as I work and cook My passion once, now
Andrew Hopkins, Quarter Collecting
I found the final quarter two days ago. It was in my lunch money. I got home and emptied my pockets, tossing my pencils, pens and homework on my desk, and then I took out my guitar picks and change.
Andrew Hopkins, Quarter Collecting
I found the final quarter two days ago. It was in my lunch money. I got home and emptied my pockets, tossing my pencils, pens and homework on my desk, and then I took out my guitar picks and change.
Margot Andreasen, Spaghetti
The slimy worms in my blue bowl are drenched with lava. The hot lava leaks over the top and down the side. Chunks of thick, large, cream colored, shreds fall from above. Rescue planes dive in to grab the survivors.
Margot Andreasen, Spaghetti
The slimy worms in my blue bowl are drenched with lava. The hot lava leaks over the top and down the side. Chunks of thick, large, cream colored, shreds fall from above. Rescue planes dive in to grab the survivors.
Amelia French, Knaves Backstage
The creak of those floorboards the ones we know to dodge by tech week knaves backstage sneaking, searching to chase, run, poke, prod performing an intricate dance till scolded now we sit eyes glued to our scripts obediently searching for
Amelia French, Knaves Backstage
The creak of those floorboards the ones we know to dodge by tech week knaves backstage sneaking, searching to chase, run, poke, prod performing an intricate dance till scolded now we sit eyes glued to our scripts obediently searching for
Just Around the Corner, Gemma Shay
It’s coming. I can feel it in the air, the chill of the frost that will soon cover the rigid soil. It’s coming. I can see the warm fog of my breath that lingers like a dream, but is soon
Just Around the Corner, Gemma Shay
It’s coming. I can feel it in the air, the chill of the frost that will soon cover the rigid soil. It’s coming. I can see the warm fog of my breath that lingers like a dream, but is soon
The Diner Around the Corner, Maria Coulter
There’s this diner around the corner from my house. It’s small and crowded and quite well known, according to the people in my neighborhood. It’s got blue paint on the outside that’s faded with the oldness, with coral-pink shutters on
The Diner Around the Corner, Maria Coulter
There’s this diner around the corner from my house. It’s small and crowded and quite well known, according to the people in my neighborhood. It’s got blue paint on the outside that’s faded with the oldness, with coral-pink shutters on
Out to Lunch, Rachel Lloyd
I step outside. My wide rimmed sunglasses shield my eyes. Lunch in hand I walk. Salt fills my nose. I can hear cars running. I can feel the heat pounding on my shoulders. I should have worn sunscreen. Uneven boards
Out to Lunch, Rachel Lloyd
I step outside. My wide rimmed sunglasses shield my eyes. Lunch in hand I walk. Salt fills my nose. I can hear cars running. I can feel the heat pounding on my shoulders. I should have worn sunscreen. Uneven boards
