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An Ode to Life's Last Breath by Calliope Pietrewicz

Untitled by Mabel Chesnes

Ode to Snow by Anne Brooks

Collecting Rainbows by Anonymous

Ode to Antique Toy Marbles by Urso Blackburn

Ode to Insanity by Anne Brooks

Ode to the Snow by Griffin Haffner

Ode to the After-Life by Colette Migeon

Ode to Honey by Marlee Boehmer 

Ode to Imaginary People by Calliope Pietrewicz

Ode to Rock and Roll by Anne Brooks

Ode to Benji by Marlee Boehmer

Ode to Tortoiseshell Gato by Griffin Haffner

Ode to the Grapefruit by Urso Blackburn

Ode to Winter by Colette Migeon

Trains by CJ Jalbert 

​Pristine Wilderness by Saul Hirshberg

Untitled by Raia LeBreux

Cover Image: Untitled by Raia LeBreux

An Ode to Life's Last Breath
Calliope Pietrewicz

It's winter now, and the world is trying to breathe under the thick frosting coating the world.

It's cold and frosty with sharp points dazzling like little knight’s swords.

The snowy owls ask “whoooo?” to the snow.

The crunching of my feet as I walk, the sun going away leaves me tired and sitting on the snow.

The goddess of everything sweet licks my face warm with love.

I grab her leash and we head back up; back into the snows’ war with determination.

She tightens her grip to my leg, licking her frosty lips.

Then we see home.

I kick off my wet shoes and flop on my aunt’s couch.

The warmth melts me like a snowman would if summer came early.

I smile at the dog as night slowly pours into soup covering the bowl of nothingness. 

I tuck her into her dog bed and kiss her head.

The door swings shut as the little warmth lights up my path.

 

It's almost winter now and the world will be trying to breathe under the thick frosting coating the world like a tasty cake.

Sharp thorns of pine poke me.

I rip the leaf in my hand, throwing it like confetti.

It is fall, like red and orange leaves; it dances across like a time machine.

It is fall, with its warriors crossing paths.

A bloody battlefield under foot, the blood leaves curl under my feet. 

A dance floor of colors.

 

It's summer, a break from school, a blue wave over the world.

A sigh of relief is the warmth of the sun.

It’s warm now, not chilled to the touch.

Swimming and sleeping in.

Everything is a whisper or a yell.

Stargazing in the warmth with the stars above.

My arms are deep in the cold grass in the cool of night.

Perfect shine like the lights before you die.

 

It’s Spring, green covering the earth like a blanket of hope.

Death now wisping away in the wind like the news when it's terrible.

Could it be pain or health?

Pain in my heart for the warmth of the sun, hitting my chest with effort.

Pain in the way earth lives, but hope in the way that I could be free from my jail.

The Spring warmth of hands holding yours that will take care of you.

Stars grabbing your sadness with its hands of death.

It's too warm and I want winter to grab me to keep me safe.

I want fall to grasp me and shake me upside-down.

I want life to go back to winter and its way of war.

If only I could be safe back in winter.

But now is not the time to wish that I will see the snow again.

I have only seen eleven winters.

 

Now the year has gone by and it's winter again 

It's cold and yucky and-

Can it be spring again?

Untitled
Mabel Chesnes

Ode to Snow
Anne Brooks

Collecting Rainbows
Anonymous

You fall,

perfectly white and clean,

like sugar but cold.

You show every footprint,

everything ever.

 

My dog sinks straight into the snow.

It’s too deep for her

to stay on top.

You can hold things up 

sink things down,

break things or 

fix things.

 

I dance through you,

destroying the perfect nothingness 

of perfect white

and perfect cold.

The kind that stings your eyes 

and nose and face.

But doesn't seep through your 

mittens or your socks.

The kind of cold 

that makes you want hot cocoa,

but doesn’t make you feel numb.

 

You cover my world in 

sparkling 

glowing

shimmering

white.

Snow that falls around me 

like flying fairies

gracefully.

I’ve always liked bright colors.

 

They’re easy to hide behind.

 

If you wear 

a daffodil dress,

people will perceive you

as happy,

and so on.

 

Which is why

I make sure

to collect rainbows.

 

A certain contrast

between sand and ocean;

the lone evergreen

amongst a sea of sticks;

a striking white dot

in a void sky.

I capture it all.

 

I wouldn’t say that this

is an art form,

though each one 

seems to bring 

some sort of emotion

to a strange human mind.

 

Besides,

who needs to learn to paint

when the world is beautiful anyway?

Ode to Antique Toy Marbles
Urso Blackburn

Ode to Insanity
Anne Brooks

Ball bearings of shining glass,

some of the sulphide figures show sass.

The Lutz is like fort knox,

filled with shining gold flakes.

 

However, none is more gilded than the sparkling Goldstone.

Swirling, twisting, whistling, divided core swirls.

Peppermint swirls so sweet looking,

you want to suck on them until they are a sugary lump. 

But sucking on glass would make you a grump.

Local Benningtons with spotted eyes, brown, blue and fancy.

Snowstorms of mica in the Micas -

be careful of the beguiling crackled glass.

Gooseberry marbles to counteract the sweetness of the peppermint swirl.

You come to me 

when I am lying in bed,

and it is 2 A.M.

When I look up at the ceiling 

and I see all of the dancing shadow people

having fun. I think,

If only I could join in 

their fun. 

Then I wouldn’t be lying here 

thinking of all of my mistakes 

I have ever made ever 

and how I will never be good enough.

My friend, in those sleepless hours

is the smooth face,

no facial features,

all white,

talking to me the whole time.

A whisper of haunting hatred

in my ear as I am trying to fall asleep.

I talk to you,

out loud.

I sound like a crazy person,

I know.

But now it is 3 A.M and 

I have school tomorrow.

I scream inside my head,

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

Will you stop it!

Will you go away?

I didn’t ask to have a crazy person

living inside my head!

Why don’t you have a face?

Are you the embodiment of insanity?

Why is it your faceless head, no hair,

no nose, no nothing!

Why can’t I see the face of my dog as I fall asleep?

Why can’t you just GO AWAY!!!

The mill of questions constantly running 

inside my head.

It doesn’t get tired like I do.

When I want to go to sleep,

it wants to be having a debate about 

the theory of questions.

Insanity comes to me in the form of a faceless face. 

I know I am not making any sense. 

Insanity comes to me in the form of dancing shadows 

in a darkened room where there aren’t any shadows. 

Insanity comes to me in the form of endless questions 

that will never be answered 

and a dancing mouse I didn’t even mention. 

He tap dances to the questions in my head, 

repetitive noise that is the only thing keeping me from sleep. 

I am so far from consciousness, 

and so close, 

at the same time.

Insanity comes to me in the early hours,

when I am trying to fall asleep.

Ode to the Snow
Griffin Haffner

It has just turned December, the cold is quite bitter.

I am heading home from family, homesick from the weather.

I look outside the car window, hoping for something to do,

and then I see a faint snowflake, falling down from the heather.

Its patterns allure me, intriguing me greatly.

Making me want to see it less faintly.

It looks hexagonal, so overly even,

it falls with such grace, it makes me look like a heathen.

It makes me feel jealous of perfection and patterns,

but at the same time it makes me feel nicer and calmer.

I just wish I could understand it better,

its mathematical rhythms that almost look like letters.

But everything good has to come to an end,

I realise when I watch it hit the ground as the car turns a bend.

It felt like time was going in slow motion,

like my brain was trying to savor it, to savor that emotion.

But hope was not all lost, I was soon to realise,

as there were hundreds more snowflakes falling from the sky.

Ode to the After-Life
Colette Migeon

You live a good life of singing and joy, 

I know you're happy but why not with me.

I wonder if you are happy 

I wonder if you’re still running in the snow 

I wonder if you will follow me while I do our favorite. 

Oh, how I wonder what life is like, 

but I know that you will say hi to everyone for me 

 

I can't help but think that it was my fault.

It fills my heart with sorrow and guilt 

Whenever I feel sorrow come over me,

I think of you and my sadness quickly turns to delight.

You deserve the joyous afterlife. 

 

I know I miss you, you know you miss me 

we can tell by the tears rolling down our faces. 

But believe me when I say you're in a good place. 

I know you’re watching over me 

Because you’re my canine guardian angel  

Don't ever think I forgot about you. 

I never have, and never will.

Ode to Honey
Marlee Boehmer

Honey is the gold of the summer,

Gold in my heart.

It tastes like warm gold on a cold summer day in my tea. 

Oh, how it makes my day!

I love it with warm chamomile tea.

It fills me with so much glee. 

I love the bees that bring me this sweet gold.  

It's the one thing that lasts forever and especially in my heart.  

The sweet crystallization looks like crystals forming in a river. 

As sweet as candy,

As tasty as mangoes.

I love honey.

Ode to Imaginary People
Calliope Pietrewicz

A doll dancing in the corner having fun, a person talking to themselves, 

people thinking of what they love, seeing things others cannot. 

Imaginary people in my dreams, in my life, dancing around having a blast. 

Little kids can touch them and dance with them but I can only talk 

to the nothing sitting on my bedside table. 

Nothing would fade as I got older, becoming only something.  

The little kids would love the nothing on my bedside table, 

calling their friends, talking to that nothing, they could have 

full conversations with them, but others have no clue. 

The little girl across the street is talking to one.

My friend's little brother is holding one's hand and chasing it.

They would be lamps or flowers sitting in vases or tables. 

Little kids playing on playgrounds with nothing, like it was something else.

Nothing like burnt marshmallows that melt on your tongue.

Ode to Rock and Roll
Anne Brooks

The drums wash over me like an ocean of sound.

A steady beat in my life,

my life in a world,

a world where Trump is president,

sadness and anger are constant,

And the U.S. is almost always fighting some war somewhere.

I can focus all of my energy into a song,

the bass booming,

the guitar playing the melody,

the piano harmonizing with the guitar,

and the vocals,

the glue holding it all together,

the focus point in this whirlwind of noise.

 

Together as a band we take on the world,

song by three minute thirty second song,

and it feels like magic.

The feeling when it all melds into this 

wonderful,

glorious,

music.

I love rock and roll,

because it is an island of beautiful cacophony in my life, 

my life,

where everybody says that it will be fine, 

but I can see the fakeness behind their smiles. 

I know that everything might not be okay.

Rock and roll is a place where I don’t have to pretend. 

Ode to Benji
Marlee Boehmer

He is the best animal you will ever find.

With brown eyes and has the best goodbyes.

White and gray fur.

He is like a small grey blur.

He always has so much energy.

He’s like a loving little pom pom.

He’s always there,

even covered in mud.

But then we have to put him in the tub.

He runs around like a crazy person.

I love him, little nugget of joy.

He fills me with happiness, 

even though he wakes me up every morning.

He is never boring.

As fast as a cheetah, 

As cute as can be.

Oh, how I love him next to me.

He loves to play like a beaver loves wood.

Even in hard times, he’s always there.

He’s always in a good mood, 

And he always loves good food.

I love my dog Benji.

Ode to Tortoiseshell Gato
Griffin Haffner

When I walk into my room, I always check for one thing.

I look straight at my bed, to see what might be waiting.

And sometimes if I get lucky,

I see one thing in particular.

I’ll see a small, grey friend, tucked under the covers.

She’ll slowly move her paws out of the covers,

she’ll do a slow stretch out of her comfy rest.

I watch her yawn, and show her small teeth.

I see all the beautiful colors on her pelt,

all fluctuating with her slow breath,

the greys, the blacks,

the browns, and the oranges,

all woven into sleek patterns.

I walk towards her, with my hand outstretched in a friendly way,

she briefly sniffs it, before rubbing her head against my hand.

I slowly tuck myself into my bed,

fluffing the covers over myself,

feeling all the fluffy blankets falling gently onto me.

After, I watch as she walks up towards me,

and gently places one paw onto my chest, 

before plopping herself onto my lap, and falling right back to sleep.

Her purring so calm, calming me down too,

and pulling me into a deep slumber with her.

Ode to the Grapefruit
Urso Blackburn

Like water balloons of sweet and sour,

filled with juice and pink like a bower

bird, or pink like chewing gum.

Scraping with the special spoon.

Pop the sweet and sour sacs.

Dig with the sticky, slimy, sour, slippery, spade,

finding the tourmaline nuggets before the flavor starts to fade.

Protected with untearable leather upholstery,

it is a sack of precious gems.

A fancy piece of nature’s jewelry.

Ode to Winter
Colette Migeon

Oh, how I love a wonderful winter

The cold wind freezes my cheeks 

The ground crunches underneath my feet 

The ground is cloaked in a soft vast quilt of white.

Oh, how I love a white winter

 

Oh, how I love the silvery snow.

Snowflakes dance through the air like ballerinas

The bare limbs of the trees sparkle in the sunlight 

with thick layers of snow. 

The hills become a winter waterpark.

Oh, how I love the slippery snow.

Trains
CJ Jalbert

Sitting in a gazebo, all attention is on you, when a train passes through.

A loud clank, like a jumble of pots and pans, and one shouts out, “TRAIN!”.

Suddenly, neither of you exist, all of our delicately balanced attention is diverted 

across the road. We respond with, “TRAIN!?”.

You two try and fail to settle us down, and we see you lock eyes with each other; a look, a look that says, “We have to babysit twenty five possums for three days.”

We are not possums!

We’re 6th graders!

Pristine Wilderness
Saul Hirshberg

I sit here embracing the pristine, untouched wilderness. The wilderness that is free from urbanization, where individuals are so conscientious about their environmental footprint that they have sacrificed much profit for this beautiful, surreal environment. This desolate landscape and this beautiful view, deep in the wilderness. I taste the slight humidity in the air, the texture of rain droplets, as well as the remnants of my lunch. I hear the slight chattering of birds in the distance, seemingly quarreling about something or other. I smell the flowers, still in bloom following summer, but gradually disappearing. I touch the dirt, the grass, and the ground, so pied: it is complex, random, and has flaws. These wrinkles in the ground, what are they here for? To remind us that among all perfect things, we can appreciate the wrinkles. The freedom to deviate from the norm, to defy expectations, the freedom to be unique. Finally, I see the whole of my landscape, this cacophonous display, maybe even a bit strange. And I realize that we can embrace this idiosyncrasy, for it is glorious.

Untitled
Raia LeBreux

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