This week the young vikings read Brigit Peegen Kelly’s “The Leaving” and were tasked with writing a poem in an epic manner describing something they are proud of. This is a fantastic group of young writers.
“The Fantasy” by Mack S.
The mirror, with its lovely crop of aquamarine
hair smiles back at me.
The breakfast table with its azure and cyan and indigo
wave as I walk to my seat.
The beloved armchair with its curls of silver
harrumphs at me as I walk by.
Its mouth tries to use an excuse, but its eyes say
“I’m scared of change” and “I don’t love my neighbor.”
I ignore it and head to the store.
Two well-known flags hang up and down balconies
with a wonderful woman on her way to becoming
the figurehead of each.
The store, it’s wide variety of my favorite bounties,
welcomes me in with locks of emerald and rose and violet
at the door, urging me to try something new.
I wave at a few of my favorites and walk to the UK.
The hours pass and the news comes on.
The woman of the flag greets us with a grin.
The silvered armchair tries to grumble,
but the blues drown it out.
The chocolate melts in my mouth
and I grin knowing my future is safe.
“The Night” by Aydan S.
If I could alter the morning
I’d make it longer
the peaceful birds tweeting.
The sunrise as beautiful as usual.
The smell of the brisk morning air enlightens me.
The afternoon so busy I wish it wasn’t.
The streets crowded with commuters.
Everyone is so impatient and in a bad mood.
The night brings me peace
that I couldn’t chage.
Looking up at the stars glimmering, the moon shining.
The world is so quiet, it brings joy to my soul.
I love the dark, it makes everything look better.
The cities, the lights, the reflection of it all bouncing
off the river.
If I could alter the world, I’d make the sun come down
at 5pm every day to restore the peace in me.
“People Don’t Reach in Accordance with the Situation” by Alex G.
Shattered glasses, smashed TVs and chairs
torn out hair and screaming over the credits rolling.
People are sending hate mail and sobbing in the streets because of a dead
side character.
“Fairy’s Blessing” by Wynn K.
I regret helping the fairy
for how when I open my mouth
a garden falls out
It impedes my search
and petals get stuck up my nose,
bugs fly out.
Moths and beetles and spiders.
I love them
but not in that way.
Thorny vines catch on my tongue
when I’m singing or eating.
What a bloody mess it makes.
I have to pull them out
just so I can eat lunch.
And when I go out
on the town in my ruby red best
I can scarcely talk to girls
lest roses burst out
even if I try my very best.
But even if they do,
I will simply say:
“I have some roses for you!”
And they’ll laugh
with much joy.
Maybe I don’t regret helping that fairy
anymore.
