Summer

Summer

Summer, Summer

It is almost here

Summer, Summer

And is drawing near

Summer, Summer

like the sun ready to rise

Summer, Summer

I feel the warmth on my thighs

Summer, Summer

It is almost here

Summer, Summer

And is drawing near

Summer, Summer

I can no longer wait

Summer, Summer

No time to waste

Summer, Summer

It is almost here

Summer,Summer

And is drawing near

Summer, Summer

Soon school will be done

Summer, Summer

And worries anon

Summer, Summer

It is almost here

Summer, Summer

And is drawing near

 By Nathan

Trapped Inside Myself

Sometimes I feel as if my brain and thoughts are like a hamster running and spinning on his wheel. Spinning and spinning all day long. You can't stop it, it's a drug that we can't stop. We can't not think, it's impossible but we have to. It's uncontrollable. You just sit there, silently drowning in thoughts. Piling on top of one another like ungraded tests on a teachers desk. I've even heard that some people think, and think, and think, then go back to what they were thinking about first. Thinking and thinking and thinking. Wondering about the impossible, pondering the unbearable. Slowing silently drowning in what no one else will ever know about.  

By Jocelyn

What We Do

       Bullets filled the air around a squad of U.S. Marines sent to capture a lead on the whereabouts of a terrorist camp. “Get down Jonson,” yelled the captain. “They have us pinned down,” yelled pvt. Jonson. “We fight until we can’t fight any more,” yelled Sgt. Smith. “These Taliban won’t take us today!”  The Squad pressed forward as a bullet hit pvt. McGregor in the upper arm.  “Are you ok!” “Ya, keep going, I’m not dead yet!” The squad pressed on, without fear, without worry.  They fought their way up the hill in a patriotic state of mind, not thinking of anything else but the mission ahead of them. “Keep fighting,” yelled the captain, but his voice was drowned out by the rain of bullets, like a nest of bees flying around the squad.
        The soldiers fought up the hill for what seemed like years. After the marines got to the top of the hill they regrouped and assessed the situation. “Man, I thought we would never get up that hill,” grunted the private. “Well we did,” said another. “Do you want a cookie?” asked the captain, “We aint done yet!” Sweep the area, make sure there are none left!. The team split up to search for more when out of nowhere a bloodcurdling yell split the night. “Sergeant,” yelled the captain. He rushed over to see a Taliban holding the seargent hostage. Private quickly freed Sgt Smith. “Thanks!” said the sergeant. “Don’t thank me, it’s what we do!”    By Ross

Spring

Beautiful Spring time

Fun in the sun with my friends

Cant wait till school ends

By Jacob

Football

I walked out on the roughly cut field, feeling the cold chill and rain hitting my face rapidly against my face. The clouds were as dark as the pavement in the parking lot. Eyes furiously staring at me on the line of scrimmage. So quiet, you could hear a pin drop. The sound was loud to my ears. “HUT!” The thunder of shoulder pads hitting and helmets smearing against each other roared the field. Mud soaring in the air as I am running after the ball carrier. Once I am at full speed down the field, all I can see are the numbers on the
jersey. The I jump into the end zone, dirt dispersed over my sweaty face. The ref looks closely and he raises his hands fiercely. You leave the rest to be said with the roar of the crowd.

Down by two touchdowns, we had to cooperate. The ball flew as high as a bird when it was kicked. Feet hit the field strongly as we approached the line. Seconds ticking away in a blink of an eye. We hiked the ball and it was secluded from the quarterback’s hand. Hearts skipped a beat and breathing could only be heard from the receiver. His hands clapped brutally. The ref's whistle blatantly blew as loud as a plane engine. The game was over; we had lost. From my own perspective, our spirit had won.    By Bobby H

A Day a life- living in Indonesia

It was just another sunny day in Indonesia as I stepped out of my house, and let the summer breeze blow my hair back. I smiled and walked forward with my heavy backpack pulling me down, I was headed to school. They required us to were these dumb uniforms that we all hated so much; I tugged at my skirt and kept walking. I met up with my friend, Asoka, we walked together and talked about the usual. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Kemala, and my friend and I live in Jakarta, the capital of Indonesia. We both go to a school for music prodigies- I play the violin and Asoka plays the cello. We both had gotten scholarships to the school and became best friends when we met.

We finally got to school were we parted ways and headed to class. After school we walked back home and said our goodbye’s. Tonight we had to practice because of a concert later that night, I was nervous and was really hoping not to mess up. “Selamat sore nenek!” ( Good evening grandma!) I waved to my Grandmother who was working in garden, as I crossed the stone path to my porch. After practicing for a while I met up with Asoka again and we left for the concert. Iin the end we did a splendid job with the concert! We had a sleep over that night and that had been the end to another great day.     By Zeidi

Poem written during a writers' workshop w "The Loud Poet" who visited school.

UH-Oh

Last Saturday, we had shot a gun

But then we had to run

Because the Policeman’s son

had liked us well done

so he put us between a bun

After he was done

he weighed a ton! 

By Bobby H