Prizewinning Poems
from the 5th
Annual 2002
Return to
Cambridgegreen home page
First Grade Winning Poetry
In the Sky
Fire
burns
Lightning
cracks
Water
waves
Rainbows
fill the sky.
Thunder
roars
Sun
shines
Clouds
float
In the sky.
I
shine
I
play
I
laugh
With happiness.
David
A Poem
A poem is juicy
Like a freshly picked apple,
A ripe one
too.
A poem is crunchy
Like a cracker.
A poem is soft
As a softly
stuffed pillow.
A poem is all those and
A poem is more.
Hannah
Shady
Pink
Pink tastes of sharp bright
colors.
It feels as soft as comfy
leather.
Memories of beautiful pink
flowers drift away in my head.
Pink smells of tasty
chocolate.
Pink sounds like soft pretty
music.
by Madeleine
Second Grade Winning Poetry
Stars
Stars are bright.
They feel hot like the sun.
A star twinkles like music.
People reach up and try to
touch them.
Stars make me feel special.
Skye
Martin Luther King, Jr.
School
Trees
The grass is soft
I see flowers on the tree.
The tree has different
smells.
I smell pine cones.
Everything is fresh and clean
The tree is growing purple
plants.
Trees, trees, trees,
I love trees.
As Ms. Jones and I walk
We feel the wind on us.
Shahara
When pressure builds up
It feels like my head is
going to pop off
It feels like I’m drowning in
a sea of madness
Pressure, pressure, pressure
It’s weird to be pressurized
Benjamin
Rain
Rain is sparkly, falling
liquid.
It smells sweet, makes my
clothes drippy and is
refreshing on my tongue.
It sounds like water dripping
in the sink.
Rain helps the flowers grow.
It’s cool!
Halen
Martin Luther King, Jr.
School
Honorable Mention
Third Grade Winning Poetry
The Tree’s Slender Trunk
Glittering under the sun
‘till winter welcomes
“Good night.” May’s warm
greeting brings
blossoms to the lonely branches. The crippled layers
of bark tell a youth of
many seasons.
Michael
Growing Tree
Try
try to push out of that
seed.
I know you can burst into a tree
with leaves everywhere.
Relax,
it’ll take awhile.
Be patient, soon you’ll
sprout. I imagine you
now…
So big, so strong they say.
Excellent so huge so big. Ahh! Look out
You’ll fall on me.
Extraordinary
oh my God you’re looking good. Ah, oh,
look who’s growing.
Zara
The U.S.S. Constitution
To the U.S.S. Constitution
We took a bus ride.
It was humongous,
Nicknamed
Old Iron Side.
There was also a museum
And next we went there.
In the auditorium
We each got a chair.
At first we was
A lot of
slides.
Then we split up
With three
different guides.
Here are some things
That I got
to learn.
The front is the bow
And back is the stern.
Port is left and
Starboard is right.
The model of the boat
Was quite a
sight.
Our group went together
On board the ship.
That was the next
Part of our
field trip.
We saw the masts
And some cannons too.
Then we asked about
Being the
crew.
Soon it was time to
Go back to school.
Being on the ship
Had been
very cool.
Now I’m sorry
But it’s time
To have an end
To this
rhyme.
Aaron
Fourth Grade
Winning Poetry
Winter With the Simmons
As I walked
down the snowy sidewalks,
my feet
seemed twice as heavy.
Snow tickled my nose.
It kept dropping and melting.
Every snowflake
so different,
so special,
so beautiful.
I passed by the
Simmons’ front yard.
Mrs. Simmons
gently smiled at me
from the living room window.
Mr. Simmons
shoveling the snow,
invited me in
for some hot cocoa.
Mrs. Simmons’ hot cocoa
is the best.
The creamy marshmallows
and rich chocolate
just melt down your throat.
The warmth of the house
welcomed me.
The hot chocolate
was just the sensation
it always is.
As I left
the old couple
stood watching
admiringly at me
entering
that snowfallen world.
I felt their love following me.
The snow fell
on my brown hair.
The warmth of the hot cocoa
kept me warm
all the way home.
Honora
When the Fly Flew
Yesterday I saw a fly
Hovering my head in the sky.
He said to me he needed help
And gave a little tiny yelp.
Then suddenly a frog came into sight
And jumped on the fly with all his might
And ate him slowly,
bite by bite.
Oh no! A snake is coming near the frog
It was hiding in an old tree log
It’s eating the frog right in the bog!
Gulp!
A hawk swooped down toward the snake
And grabbed it with his large talons
It flew to the other side of the lake
And ate, ate, ate.
As the hawk was flying it opened its mouth
And to the hawk’s surprise the snake squirmed out
To the snake’s surprise the frog jumped out too
And frog was so shocked it dropped its jaw
And out the fly flew.
Rebecca
Fourth Grade Winning
Entries (continued)
Nature
Leaves
fall
in weird
patterns.
Sticks
crunch
under my
feet.
Birds
chirp
very
loudly
like
coyotes
howling
at the
moon.
Old
Man’s Beard,
the
fungus
gives
beauty
to the
trees.
Spiders,
creeping
in webs
with dew.
Bark
covering
trees secrets,
as if no
one
would
ever know.
Isaiah
Autumn
When I’m walking home from
school
I hear the leaves.
I’m stepping on the leaves.
I put my foot on them
as they crackle.
I’m skipping with joy
As the sun
Shines its first rays through
the clouds.
When I have the time
I run and jump to feel the
wind
fresh as a new born baby breathing.
When I feel the bright crisp
sunlight looking over me
I sway back and forth
just like the wind going through my body.
I look at the bright red
leaves
like fire speaking to me
saying hello.
Rebecca
Honorable Mention
The Tree in My Back Yard
The tree in my back yard
Is a giant
Locust Tree.
It is bigger than our house
Which has
floors three.
It leans the other way
And some people say
We are lucky because when it
falls
It won’t come down upon us
all.
Raccoons live in its wide
trunk,
Where they
are visited by an occasional skunk.
Squirrels build their nests
high in its branches,
And they jump from tree, to
tree, to tree.
It looks like the oldest
Tree of
them all.
So we’ll never cut it down,
We’ll just let it fall.
It gives us shade in the
summer
Leaves to
play in during the fall.
These are the many reasons
It is special to us all.
Shane
Honorable Mention
Fifth Grade
Winning Entries
Where Poetry Hides
Poetry hides in the wind in the air
in my
hair in my ear
Poetry
hides every where.
Poetry
hides in the light
in the
dark
it even
hides in baby parks
in a game
in my pain
in my
mother’s picture frame.
Poetry
hides in stars of fame
in a
baseball game in my teacher’s name
poetry
hides in my dads last name
poetry
hides in my life and pain.
Kareem
Ce La Vi (Creole: That’s Life)
A
girl who‘s smart and funny
And
cool
She
sits in a pool of her
Sorrows
And
memories, remembering
The
good and bad
But
the good washes away
All
the bad
And
that pool turned from
Sadness
To
Happiness
Stephanie
White
Tiger
Oh
White Tiger
Sign
of the gods
Where
do you come from?
Where
animals are changed,
To
white with black stripes,
Where
the White Tigers rule?
Where
they come down,
As
signs, as warnings,
To the ever changing Earth?
Oh
Tiger, White Tiger,
Where
do you live?
On
some land far away,
Where
there is peace?
Oh
White Tiger,
Wonderful
White Tiger,
Please
answer me.
Karan
\
Sixth Grade Winning Entries
Hope Matters
Hope is living and breathing
And
sleeping. It is wishing and
Watching and overcoming. Hope is
The value
that keeps us alive.
It is looking forward to
tomorrow
And editing
today. To have hope
Is to believe in yourself and
that
Is what matters.
Hope matters.
Julia
Love
Love
is the word that tingles in you,
Love
is the word that likes sticking on you like glue,
Love
makes you feel that there is no life for you,
There
is nothing about love that you can’t do
When
you’re in love a lot of things happen to you.
Takela
Martin
Luther King, Jr. School
Anger
A
river of rage
Rushes
over me
As
I become Angry
My
body soon becomes
Heated
like fire
My
brain boils over
As
I yell at my sister
While
my face turns bright red
With ANGER.
Paulina
Ode To My
Hat
This
is what I ode to my hat.
I ode my hat for keeping the sun out of my eyes.
I ode to my hat for making me looking very cool and
sharp.
I ode to my hat for saying magic on it.
I ode to my hat for being so comfortable.
I ode to my hat for being
nicer than everybody elses.
Something
else I ode to my hat is being blue and black.
This
is all I ode to my hat.
Mookie
Martin
Luther King, Jr. School
Honorable Mention
Seventh
& Eighth Grade Winning Entries
Ode to a
Spoon
A
spoon was made.
Hot
metal poured
into one
of the many molds.
Flowing
like a river
of molten
lava.
It
settled, and as it cooled
in a
frigid room
it
hardened like ice.
Once
it was complete,
the spoon
was polished
until it
shone like the moon,
its soft
silver glow seeming
faint
in the
harsh factory light.
The
spoon clanked with fear
as it was
packaged
with
other utensils
and
bundled into a truck.
The
spoon’s packaging
all but
burst
as many
forks’ prongs
pierced
the foam
and paper
package’s
flesh.
Soon
the truck heaved
to a
stop,
sending
silverware
everywhere.
The
spoon dealt
with the
truck driver’s
rough
handling
stoically,
though it
often
felt the
impulse
to check
if it had
sustained
bruising.
The
bundle was unloaded
at a
kitchenware store,
and the
silverware
polished,
arranged
and
displayed.
A
set of silverware,
including
the spoon,
was
bought
and taken
home,
to my
house.
The
spoon
gleamed
molten,
icy.
Once
I
retrieved it
from the
dishwasher.
Droplets
of water
sprayed
from it,
and shone
like
morning
dew
on its
smooth
surface.
I
placed the spoon
in the
drawer,
to be
utilized later.
It
winked
in the
sun,
as I
closed the drawer gently,
so the
utensils wouldn’t rattle,
and
awaken from their
slumber.
Next
morning,
I
took the spoon,
poured
milk,
and
cereal,
into my
bowl.
The
spoon paddled
through
the
mixture
like a
seal.
It
retreated
into the
bowl
like a
turtle, only to
reappear
and
dive
again.
The
metallic tang
of the
spoon filled my mouth,
its touch
rang out
like a
discordant bell,
and its
harsh reality
filled my
eyes.
Its
sleek length seemed
a shark,
as it
traversed
the ocean
of my
cereal.
Its
smell was hard
and
brittle
and
bright like
a sheet
of ice,
glaring
in the sun.
Its
cold touch
radiated
throughout
my mouth,
and its
turpentine
glow
pervaded
the
kitchen.
It
looked like
an
orchestra of
flutes,
chiming
in the wind.
Light
refracted
from it
in small,
incandescent
rainbows
trailing
across the
walls
like snails
carrying
ribbons.
I
put the spoon back
in the
dishwasher,
knowing
that the
whole
process
would
start
again
for my
spoon,
another
time.
Casey
/2nd
place 7/8 grade
When I Think of You
When
I think of you,
I
win back my soul.
I
would give you a star
Just
for your embrace.
For
a kiss,
I
would mix
water and
fire.
What
is it about you,
that
connects my powerful feelings
to your
eyes.
Whenever
I am close to you,
it’s as
if I am in charge of caring for you.
Gabriel
Seventh
Grade
3rd
place, 7/8th grade
Another Day
September
Two
thousand and one
Date
eleven
A.M.
Another
day just like any other
Another
day work, school, play
Another
day to live in infamy
We
thought secure and safe
We
thought mighty and powerful
We
thought we thought wrong
In
the sky we spied a plane
In
the sky we spied a bomb
In
the sky we spied the unbelievable
Our
eyes saw a plane
Our
eyes saw balls of fire
Our
eyes saw fear
Our
bodies ran away
Our
bodies screamed out loud
Our
bodies froze in terror
Our
faces felt the fire
Our
faces captured debris\
Our
faces ran with tears
We
heard the crackle of fire
We
heard the screams of the living
We
heard the screams of the dead
We
witnessed kinsmen dying
We
witnessed a symbol destroyed
We
became a country on alert
//center
this line/// Another Day
Jessica
Eighth
Grade
honorable
mention, 7/8 grade
Love for the Game
A
Basketball Poem
The
court
where I
meet it
Game
time
when I
see it
It’s
Bouncy
full of
air
Its
rubber
Is
soft
its shape
Circular
the sound
Unbelievable
it has no
eyes
but it
knows
where
it’s going
its
mission
Through
the legs
Through
the opponent
Through
the net
Tenzin
Seventh
Grade
///1st
place, high school///
Letters on a Page
I
have been caught red-handed covered head to toe in my ink.
How can I write what I truly feel without turning red from
the bitter truth?
How
do you write what your heart beats, or what your mind speaks.
How do you feel emotion, true emotion from an
unfeeling pen
and paper,
something
that can't cry or bleed.
The only bleeding is the ink on the paper
that drips down and spills to the floor.
How do you express what your soul sings, what
your mind brings?
It's all just letters on a page, just letters on a
page.
How do you say what's right, or bring out
sight in a few words.
How do you make letters on a page real, human, innocent,
without losing your
soul in the process.
How
can you tell what you see, what you breath, what you bleed with an
adjective or a noun.
It's all just letters on a page, just letters on a
page.
How
can words evoke such deep thought, how can lives be
bought.
How can tears be encased on paper without spilling out
and
flooding the room.
Smiles stamped like a passport and sorrow a
cover of a page.
What is the logic in all these words?
It's
all just words on a page, just letters on a page
Maybe
the feel and maybe they love, but a soul is a
soul and a book is a book,
and words
only illustrate the emotions and desires we hide.
We
hide behind similes and metaphors
behind paragraphs and empty space.
We
hide behind and between the lines and push the limits of what
others will take, then we
realize
that the boundaries we cross never existed at all
It's all just words on a
page, just letters on a page.
Patty
Tenth Grade
///2nd place, high
school///
For What It’s Worth
To lay beneath a tree
Brings all worldly ailments
to an
undisputed rest
Reaching out with sturdy
branches,
The weight of the world is
lifted from
off your shoulders.
Sigh.
Rough, unrefined bark, to
sandpaper
away the scars of
reality.
The hot, molten glare of sun,
is softened to a sweet summer’s breeze
beneath the shade of
foliage.
Silent conversation whistles
though
the leaves as they
giggle to themselves
of blue skies and white clouds, and
intense spring
rains.
To lay
beneath a tree brings all
un-worldly ailments
to
a standstill of
respect.
jennah
Eleventh Grade
//
///3rd
place, high school///
Love the Trees
Love
the trees like,
like you
love your mother,
love the
trees like
the moon
loves the night,
like the
sun loves the day,
like the
bird loves the trees,
like the
men love the women,
like the
women love the men
Love
the trees like,
Mr.
Clayton loves the students,
like Mr. Casillas loves the poems,
like Ms.
Vega loves the Science,
like Ms. Mallard
loves her class.
Love the trees like,
the Earth
loves the rain,
like I
love my country,
love the
trees like,
the trees
love you…!
Manuel
Tenth
Grade
///Honorable
Mention, high school
Love Trees
Please,
this
time, too many trees are cutting
by us.
Please,
the can
not say anything but,
they are
crying now.
Many
people,
they
don’t care about their pain but,
we should
think about them.
Please,
love trees
so we never hear their
painful
cry any more.
LOVE
TREES
Ji-Sun
Ninth
Grade
///Tree Poem-Adult///
Walking Poem
Walking away from the burning
wreckage of the twin towers
From stench,
heat, ash, and bones,
Taking the path of least
resistance
Through the trees
Where soaring branches gently
arch,
Light plays on green, orange
and yellowing leaves
And steadfast trunks define
boundaries of quiet space.
Beryl Minkle
///Grade
1/Spanish//
Mi Primavera
La
flor, la flor
Las
nubes, las nubes
El
sol
cantan
Es
mi favorita, primavera
Mi
flor es linda
Las
nubes son blancos
El
sol es
Mi
gata esta feliz
Mi
amiga, la pera esta feliz
Los
animales estan felices
Las
Las
personas estan felices
Los
insectos estan felices
Los
ninos estan felices
Mis amigas estan felices
El
mundo esta feliz
Y
yo estoy feliz
Phoebe
First
Grade
//?Grade
3 Spanish///
Arboles
Arboles,
Arboles
bonitos
son para todo el mundo
nos dan vida
color y amor
Gabriel
Third
Grade
El Arbol
Grande
El Arbol
Grande por
Yo plante una
Semilla y
Yo espere Y espere despues un
dia un arbol crecio y Yo Vi
mi pupi Cominando
y you vi mi mami,
Cocoinando, Y mi Arbol
Grande fue.
Yaritza
Third
Grade
El dia
esta claro,
ja no face frio
los pajaros cantan.
?seraq he vieheel verand?
Hoy estoy
contesto,
el dia esta
claro,
El vien
toso platibio,
?Sera que viene
el verano?
El ano
ha pasado,
las clases pronto terminan,
pronto es mi cumpleanos,
?Sera que viene
el verano?
Pronto muy
pronto
ya giene el verano.
Marco
Fourth Grade
Arboles
Arboles,
Arboles bonitos
son para todo
el mundo
nos dan vida,
color y amor
by
Gabriel
3rd
grade when written
Amigos
///Grade 4/Spanish//
El Rio
En
el rio frio
y vacio famoso y yano hermoso,
Se
detubo el abuelo dando consuelo
a lo golordrina
con su panuelo.
Lo
golondrina emprerrdioa su vuelo.
El
abuelo apuro su comino hacia
el castillo.
Y
recordan do el abuelo el rio frio
y vacio.
Adrianna
Fourth
Grade
///Grade
6/Spanish Language
De donde soy
Yo soy de
television con caricaturas.
De
microondas y refrís
De Nintendo y juegos avanzados.
De computadora y camas
grades.
De
tocador de disco y de cinta.
De aire acandiciondo
y calefacción.
Yo soy de
canchas de beisbol, futbol americano, futboy/soccer y baloncesto.
De barandas flojas.
De plantas de tomate, maiz lechugo
y pepino.
De casas de mis amigos.
Yo soy de
la biblioteca.
De
la escuea
De todos mis
amigos.
De
restaurantes portugueses, españoles e hispanos.
De restaurantes chinos, taiwaneses y japoneses.
Yo soy de
mi mamá, mi papá, Papachico y Mamachila.
De
me tia Maria, tia Marina, Tia Toña,
tia Angelica, tia Angelita y tia
De mi tio Rando, tio Juan, tio
De
mis primos gerber, Alex, Kenny, Rodman, Brandon, Daniel, Jasmin, Jessica, Juancito,
Carina
y Ronald
Yo so de
“El que muera con su gusto que lo entierren parado” y de Metete la camiseta.
Yo soy de
Pupusas.
De
arroz con leche.
De frijoles.
De
aguacate con crema.
Yo soy de
De
De
De
Glacken.
De
Medfield.
De
Westwood.
De
Walpole.
De
Newton.
Yo soy de
Tag.
De
“Hide and go seek”
De
Dodgeball.
Yo
soy Frank
///Grade
6/1st place Spanish///
¿Donde estan mis caras?
Cada dia prendo la tele,
veo caras, pero
no de mi gente.
Leo
el libro mejor
tiene las caras
de mi gente.
Veo el jefè de una compañia,
y no tiene la cara de mi gente,
Las
caras de mi gente
de luchadores
contra exclavitud, racismo y colonizmo.
La
gente que les quitaron todo,
y nos devuelven nada.
Las
caras que
mantienen tres trabajos.
Las
caras que
trabajan en edificios importantes,
limpiando los baños.
Las
caras que
cargan toda las pesas que
no tiran.
Las
caras de sobrevivientes.
Las
caras Latinas.
Seventh
Grade