"Dressing like B-movie monsters is the latest fad sweeping through Bixby Elementary - but what's driving the strange compulsion?" Drew, Clementine, Grady,...
Home arrow Writing by Kids arrow February 2007 Poems and Short Stories
February 2007 Poems and Short Stories PDF Print E-mail

February Poetry

The Wind
by Erin
Age 10

The wind is all around me,
I feel it everywhere.
Even when I'm having tea,
Or sitting, here, or there.

I feel it when I'm at the park,
Or playing with a friend.
I feel it watching meadow-larks,
Or running 'round the bend.

It swirls like cloth around me,
It sounds like whistling galore.
It smells so clean and freshening,
And when I touch it, it feels like something I've never felt before.

It lays right under my finger-tips,
It lays just under my toes.
I feel it under my upper-lip,
Just when the cool wind blows.

by Rikki
Age 11

Black- history month is here
Valentines day too
And if you were born this month
Happy Birthday to you

Valentines day is for giving
Valentines day is for receiving
And if you need a Valentine
You've got to keep on believing

You've got to respect their culture
You've got to respect their ways
And we all need to remember
The war fighting days

When February is over
We will be sad
But March will be coming
so we will be glad

by Hunter
Age 11

Leaves leaves leaves
falling on the ground
leaves leaves leaves
yellow orange brown
leaves leaves leaves
brushing in my hair
leaves leaves leaves
falling everywhere

Outside the Window
by Shannon
Age 11

The tree's are swaying in the breeze. As a farmer rests upon his knees. Animals lying sleepily down. As a van comes from the town. I see a school. I see bullies being cruel. I see something from afar. Oh look it is a wonderful shooting star.

The Poppy
by Shannon
Age 12

The lonely knight stands guard
On the field dark and red
Where enemies and friends
Long ago once bled

His fiery eyes ablaze
Behind his shining cap
The enemies charge forward

The foe men fall to the earth
The knightman marches away
The ground still red
The sky dark and grey

From this burden on the soil
A hopeful little sprout
A poppy, royal red
Pops its way out

September 11 A Day In Our Hearts
by Julie
Age 13

When the twin towers were hit,
The world began to split.
When the pentagon was set to flames,
The world wanted to hide in shame.
When the smoke was full of dust and glass,
The world completely broke in half.
But we will never forget,
The mournful cries of all of those,
Who sadly died.
Friends and family of loved ones lost,
This day will always stay in our Hearts.

by madhumitha
Age 7

stars are pretty
stars are bright
they twinkle like
a diamond so pretty
all night...


My Dream Bunny
by Smiti
Age 12

I wish I had a bunny
One that was funny
It would bounce around all day
We would always love to play
It would be white with black spots
Just like polka dots!
Oreo would be its name
Every day we would play a game
I wish I had a bunny
As sweet as honey

When I Grow Up
by Paige
Age 13

i want to live in the heart of the city,
in an apartment building

a high apartment building
i will live in the room that brushes the tip of the sky
the one that’s closest to heaven
the one overlooking the lake
the one watching the roaring waters as they brush against shores
i will sit there in my room
my desk will look out to the city
and i will sit there every night with my chewed up pen
and write of the roaring waters
the beeping cars
and sometimes the pitter patter of rain
my light will be the only one on
and while everyone sleeps
i will be writing of my city beyond.

by Yen
Age 7

I love sunshine very much
We need sunshine so we have light
If we don't have light, we can't see
If we can't see, we can't read, we can't eat and we can't write And many other things that we can't do If there's no sunshine or light So thank God because we have sunshine and light.


February Short Stories

My favorite place to be
By Gabrielle

There is a place with the homey fragrances of warm baking bread and soft dough rising. There is a place I love on a little old street in Holbrook, New York where I can feel the distant laughter of youngsters long ago. That is the place my mom used to call home.
The pastel walls painted yellow, pink, and white remind me of a house the mothers of olden days cleaned and kept in shape. Tidy and neat is my Grandparent’s home with small porcelain plates my Grandmother calls antique. I can still remember the bear I named Bungloou that sits silent and still at the blue room’s entrance. His friend was a doll with hair of yarn and a face of cloth. The doll’s play dress is made of canvas, the stiff new kind with small embroidery of flowers and butterflies here and there. Sometimes, in my games, the two are a show for the circus and in other times, the doll is a girl raised by the bear.
But when the day is warm and sweet on the lawn of the backyard, it suits my hunger for play. The backyard at my Grandparents’ house in New York isn’t like the yard found at my home in Texas. First of all, the grass is enjoyable with short smooth healthy blades. On the porch there is a swing with white peeling paint that crunches when you sit on it. In the middle of the yard there is a big grove of trees shot up out of the grass like daisies. My Mom and Dad once told me that when I was two I’d go in my grandparent’s yard and stick my little hands in the tall garden boxes that Grandpa grew tomatoes in and grab a couple-ripe or not!
Overall I believe the real reason I love my dearest grandparent’s house is because I’m always welcome and severely spoiled with love and kisses. To some that might sound boring but baking in the kitchen with Grandpa and dancing around like jolly old sailors is priceless to me and that, for sure, is a memory I will cherish for all eternity!
I love you grandma and grandpa!

By Jasmine
Age 13

I go by Jazz
I have dirty blonde hair
And hazel eyes
I love the color turquoise
I write on my hands with pen a lot
I’ve made my share of mistakes
But my eyes are still hazel
And turquoise still has a place in my heart
But, maybe one day
I won’t write on my hands with pen anymore

I collect TY Beanie Babies
I listen to music constantly
I have small hands
I love rainbows
I trip over my own two feet
But, I still listen to music constantly
And my hands are still small
But, maybe one day
I’ll trip over someone else’s two feet
Instead of mine

I have straight teeth
I’ve lost my ‘baby’ face
I love fireplaces
I always smile
Except when clowns are near
I have regrets of past actions
But, my teeth are still straight
And I still love fireplaces
But maybe one day
Clowns will make me smile
Instead of scream

Ginger and the Gem
By Gabby
Age 12

Once upon a time there was a horse named Ginger. She belonged to the princess of Ireland and her Family. Liena, the princess, had a beautiful, valuable gem placed right in the center of her forehead. This horse, Ginger, had a special power; she could predict the future and blocked many if not all attempts to kidnap Liena and the gem that occurred since her third birthday. Not knowing any of this the King and Queen tried several times to get rid of her. One night during a full moon not so far from tonight Jack the wicked warlock from the North came galloping down the trail toward the moat. Suddenly awaked to find that she was on a very uncomfortable horse saddle Liena stared Jack straight in the eye. "Take me home this instant or I'll have you sent to the slammer when I'm found." "You don't scare me", he boasted with a smirk on his face because he was the only one able to get to the forest and away from the castle. Meanwhile Ginger slept: snore, snore!
Ney! Ney! "Ginger wake up someone ha taken the princess!" "Ney, I must go. Tell mother where I am if she wakes up worried; something must be done. Good-bye and thank you." Ginger hurried after not having any idea how prepared Jack was. Finally she caught up and had to hide behind a tree until she could pass on a side trail and sneak up on them. "Wait, I'm here to help you; Jack stop now." Ney! "Never!" How could Ginger have failed?

By Christine
Age 8

The wind is silently knocking on my window.It said hello.At first I was scared but it was just a leprechaun. A LEPRECHAUN!I checked the window but he was gone.I shook my head I must have been dreaming.The next day I told my mom what happened she said it was just a figment of my imagination.

The next night night I checked again but he wasn't there. Then he was just sitting on my windowsill. When I checked again he was not there.

After a couple of weeks he kept happening.Then he finally spoke up he said, "My Irish Princess" and I don't know why. Then I did some genealogy and it said that I was the queen's daughter but she didn't want me.So I was adopted by my foster mom. So,I checked the next day and he was there again he said "The queen wants you back now ",but before I could ask why he was gone.

Have you ever heard of Irish eyes are smiling? Well, I made up a saying "Irish princesses are com'n."

The Talking Talk
By Wyatt
Age 9

Once upon a time there was a duck that could talk. The only words it could say were Who, What, and No.

One day the duck went out and met some animals. He said who over and over again, then what and no. The other animals thought he was wired so they ran off, but the duck kept on yapping and following them.

When the duck got tired he stopped and decided to have a picnic under an oak tree. When he sat down the tree started to shake. Then duck heard a voice; it was coming from the tree. “Who dares bother me during my sleep?” The tree stated. The duck did not know what that meant so he tried to copy it. “No, Who, What” was the answer. The tree asked many questions but all he got back was a No, What, Who. So finally he asked… “Do you know how to speak?” “NO” the duck replied. Then the tree started teaching the duck how to speak. First with the simplest words, then they became more challenging.

The duck finally learned how to talk and lived happily ever after.

Grandpa Jeff
By Autumn
Age 12

Once upon a time there was a boy named Jeff and he loved to tell stories and on every sunday he would tell the same story to all the kids in the town. But one day he got sick and so he could not tell stories. But the kids that he always read to had an idea. It was that they read a story to Jeff and they did just that. From that time on if one of the kids was sick he would read them a different story and they lived happy ever after.


Copyright © 2016 KidsBookshelf. All rights reserved.
Send comments and questions by clicking here.
Privacy Statement