Wednesday, April 28, 2004

Ashlee's Poems


I wish I could escape
my bad feelings. I wish I could
escape myself when feeling mad,
sad, and lonely. I wish I could
escape problems and make solutions.
I wish I could escape being
scared, uncomfortable, and
small. I wish I could escape
falling without my wings

can I escape?

signed anonymous

One Thought

I wish one thought could
change how people think
I wish one thought could
change how people feel
I wish one thought could
change how people process.


Roses, daisies, tulips. Flowers
everywhere so lovely I cannot
despair you smell so good so sweet
flowers everywhere.

The earth

The birds are chirping
The sun is shining
The sky is blue
The grass is green
The flowers are blooming
It's spring!!


It's hot hot hot very very
hot so hot I'm sweating
it's hot hot hot, I wish I
could go ice skating it's so
frustrating it's very very

The Way

The way the animals roam
The way the plants grow to trees
The way the flowers bloom
The way the grass grows
The way the sun shines
The way the birds fly
The way the fish swim
The way.

We Move With the Earth

We move with the earth
We go wherever it goes
We roam where it roams
We soar where it soars
We all move with the earth


The misery of sweat running from my
face. The misery of the sun being
in place. The misery of the heavy clothes
in this case. Misery Misery Misery.


Stars every where
How they glow
How they shine
How they shout out in the galaxy
Start stars stars

The Plant

Little flower plants falling
from the trees so windy I
can feel the breeze so
pretty but strange

Monday Morning

As the sun rises and
the day has begun
you're waking up getting
ready you go so slow
and steady. You're so stiff
like tin and that is how Monday Morning


As soft as a pillow
As fluffy as fur
As fragile as glass
As gentle and tender as a
Clouds clouds

Friday, April 23, 2004

My fourth graders have been writing poetry. You will like it.


like snow
a lot. It is
really cold. It is frozen
water, but when
you put it in
mouth it
melts. You can
make a lot of things with
the snow like
angels, snowmen
and a lot more.

Ice Cream

Ice cream
is cold and
good. There are
different kinds
of ice cream.

(by Luz)

My Poem

I love my friend
She went away from me
My poem ends soft as it began
I love my friend.

My Poem

Snow made whiteness where
it falls. The bushes look like
popcorn-balls. The place
where I always play looks like
somewhere else today.

(by Katherine)


I am a little kid. My name is
Louis. I like to play games. I am
like my big brother who loves to play
ball. We act like we are basketball players
and I play best. I don't act like a basketball
player. Sometimes I act like a regular kid. I don't like football like
my brother's friend Shakim.

Part 1 For Ms. Gordon

Violets are pink, Violets are red, Ms.
Gordon looks so beautiful today
and everyday too.

Part 2 For Ms. Haley

Violets are red, Violets are
pink. Ms. Haley your eyes
are so beautiful.

(by Louis)


Butterflies are nice and so fast
as the night so bright
as the light made as the sky
and high to fly.



(no title)

I saw a little boy sitting
in a tree. He was eating a nut
and was looking at me.

(by Richard aka Baby Thug)

(no title)

When I am writing it feels like I can
Do anything, like I can
play like Jordan in the NBA, or
I can fly like a bird, or race like a
Nascar Racer.


Home is a place where you feel good,
Happy not sad maybe sometimes sad.
Home is a place where you have good and old memories
Home is a place where you have family to
support you. Family tells you what
is good and what is bad. Family
supports you wherever you go. That is
what Home and family means.

(by Jonathan)

What I Hear When I Wake Up

This day I woke up feeling fine
in my mind, hearing the bird twe, twak
and listening to my mother's shoe click clak. I
went to the bathroom, did what I had
to do. My little sister woke up and said Winnie the Poo
I had wondered what that means. Was it her shoe
or her toe?


Love can be so sweet
just like some meats I love
my mother and love my grandmother
and all the time I hug her
Love is in the air and it
smells like my mother's hair

(by Robert)

Ice Cream

Ice cream is so good.
Ice cream is also very cold
Ice cream is very good.


My Shepard

My Mother is my Shepard,
My owner, my Guardian,
She feeds me, takes care
of me, I love her and she
loves me. She buys me
toys, she does everything
she can do for me.
She is my shepard.
My shepard.


Today the sky is blue and white,
the grass is green,
The sun is shining yellow
like a diamond.
The wind breezes through
my face.
I see kids playing. I sit down
and relax.


Trees are my friends. I love the
fruits that come from
sweet trees.
Trees help me
live, Trees give
me food, Trees
are my friends.


Outside I play, Outside my
friends are outside. Kids are
yelling, playing, running. The sun shines

Nature is Mine

The sun is bright.
The light touches the
earth. The birds are
chirping, the squirrels
are working. Everything is fine.
The nature is mine.

The Forest

The forest is a living place.
The trees are a living place.

The Moon

The moon is bright
You can see the
best of the moon
at night, the moon
is bright.

The Peanut

The peanut is big
The peanut is long,
The peanut is lumpy,
The peanut is very good
once I eat you.

(by H.C.)

(Miss Ashlee's will be posted Monday, her Writer's Notebook she keeps so safely by her side. The poems delight, and I will share; do not despair, says Ashlee.)

Monday, April 19, 2004

Trucker Dreams

When you drive the freeways that border
Houston at odd hours of the night,
the dark tucks you in,
except for the wind beside your window.

Long stretches
connect places like Pearland
and Humble.

The in between blotted out
by dark green bushels of trees.

In the daytime, haze
leads your eye out to the refineries,
skinny little pipes
emitting white air.

The land is flat and soggy,
the coastal plain leaving rain little room to seep.

Monday, April 05, 2004

What does a little New York Thorn Bush/Texas Flower do on her first day home after driving cross country? Gaze; sip coffee; read Texas Highways; soak up all the Indian Paintbrushes, Buttercups, Bluebonnets, rolling plains, cow congregations, and everything green; and sit down to record it--my version of a thick lead pencil scratching a spiral notepad.

For those of you who have never visited, my mother's house is on a lot in what's referred to as "The Greenbelt." These greenbelts are scattered around the Austin landscape. They are belts of green--a dozen variety of oak, ever-present cedar, sumac, yucca, and agarita--elongating through limestone canyons, dotted with steep drop-offs and gentle slopes. Mom planned this house to sit like a treehouse, overlooking the canyon from six floor-length windows, side-by-side along the northwestern side. This is the livingroom, the treehouse, and then it connects to a covered outdoor deck in the rear so that it easily becomes indoor/outdoor.

From the couch this morning, the sunrise was at eye-level, a muted white hazy sunglow through the scattered boughs. Stepping outside, the rain has left everything showery clean, alert. In the air there is a mixture of sweet honey, bitter greens, and robust grounds. The sun is coming up. Yummy, I'm home.