The Spectacle
The Spectacle The Boulder Valley School District 17th Annual Literary Magazine
Published by the Department of Advanced Academic Services March, 2014 Becky Whittenburg, editor
Elementary
The Power of Love The power of love starts simply with everyone. The power of love starts simply with everyone in the world. And everyone in the world needs to be nice. And nice will spread throughout the whole world. And it will be nice. People will take planes to each other To be together. They will be considerate and kind. When it is time to go back home, they will say, "This was a nice visit and I am sorry that I have to go home but I'll still love you from there. And I know Hawaii is a lovely place to be. I wish I could stay but I already have my plane ticket. So good-bye my friend." There will be lots of hugging. The power of love.
Ori Korngold-Finkelstein Kindergarten Bear Creek Elementary
Into a Book I love reading. It’s like I get sucked into the book. I just drain away. The world around me fades. Then I’m in the scene with the characters. Whether it’s a damp forest or grassy moorlands, I’m there. That’s what it feels like when I’m reading. I love reading.
Owen McCarty Grade 1 High Peaks Elementary
Dragon Friend In the deep, deep dark forest inside a volcano there lived a red dragon named Sparky. This dragon had a normal dragon life; every day he went out to catch prey, went for a flight and took a nap. Until one day he came across a castle, and at the castle he met this knight named Frederick; he was a nice knight. Frederick asked his father the king, if he could go with this dragon on an adventure. On this adventure they fought other dragons, monsters, wizards and griffins. One day they came across another red dragon. This dragon was also very powerful and had a rider too. They had a great victory but Sparky was very injured during battle because the other red dragon had breathed fire into Sparky’s throat so Frederick went out to find an antidote that would cure him. Frederick went to the highest mountain that he could climb but at the very top of White Dragon Mountain he found a white dragon. This dragon was far too dangerous for him to fight alone. So he had to wait until night when Chrystal, the white dragon, fell asleep. He snuck around her and when he got to the peak of the mountain he found a very large pile of never melting snow. Grabbing the snow, he escaped with his life as Chrystal was waking. At last he got back to Sparky. Pouring the antidote down Sparky’s throat, Frederick could feel it working in his heart. Sparky was no longer able to breathe fire because of the never melting snow but he still survived. Sparky and Frederick were best friends forever and went on one hundred more adventures together.
Chayton Sampson Grade 1 University Hill Elementary
The Rhythm of the Wind I hear the rhythm Of the Calm Wind Calling Me Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh As it disappears. Over The Grassy Hilltop
Ellie Grandsaert Grade 1 Bear Creek Elementary
Poems of the Night SILENCE Owls fly swiftly. Moths fly softly. Leaves flutter to the ground. Mushrooms stand tall like statues. The moon shines bright with the silence of the night. NIGHTTIME In the night you can hear the frogs croak through the thick fog. The moon shines bright on the gleaming dew, while the wind whistles through the leaves. CELEBRATION At night when the train whistles have blown, All creatures celebrate. Finally when dawn breaks all nocturnals go to sleep. With bellies full and minds content they fall asleep and dream. MOONLIGHT Magic On Oaxaca’s Nights Light In festive Girls’ Hair Tonight. Aurelia Kembel Grade 2 University Hill Elementary Readers Choice Award
Lagarijas Lagartijas bonitas Siempre rapiditas Cuando las veo suspiro Y nomas las veo Lagartijas lagartijas Siempre pensando en ellas Si las toco Me da miedo Sus ojos como aceitunas Me quedan viendo.
Lizards Beautiful lizards Always fast. When I see them I sigh And I keep seeing them Lizards Lizards I get scared Their eyes like olives Keep looking at me Leslie Garcia Escalante Grade 2 Columbine Elementary
Stories of the Wooden Bird The streets of England were rainy as usual as Anya strolled through the dark gloomy alleys returning from school. Just as she was about to take the usual route, thunder burst from the sky and a shower of heavy rain collapsed on her umbrella. Anya dashed under the shelter of an eave. Then she noticed a graceful marble sculpture whose hand was gesturing toward a street that wasn’t her usual path. The eerie dim glow of the street light made her hesitate for a moment but she gathered her courage and went on. Evening was drifting down. She started to walk faster thinking her parents would be worried. The raindrops were dancing on the cobblestones. After a couple blocks she came to a dead end. Before her rose a big red closet full of toys. There were clowns in silk clothing, dolls in dresses and soft animals of many sorts. They peered at her through the glass. A sign hung at the top of the closet, “A Toy for a Quarter.” Then she saw a clown with a sly grin and a glossy porcelain face as if it had just been polished. Then behind the clown’s frilly clothing Anya caught a glimpse of an elegant bird’s tail. It was the most exquisite bird she had ever seen and it seemed to sing a cheerful song. She took a quarter from her pocket and slipped it through the little slot. There was a wooden drawer from which a sound like something falling on cushions came. She opened it. There, on the pink, soft cushion laid the bird, which looked like a wren. It was delicate with a thin beak and a feathery tail. The bird’s eyes were gentle, calming. The streets seemed to glow with happiness when the bird was in her pocket. She reached her brick cottage with dainty daisies outlining it. Anya’s parents greeted her. After a warming soup, she ran up the stairs to her room. “I was waiting for you to come. Thank you,” chirped the wooden bird. “Did you say something?” asked Anya. “Of course, I’m here to give you wisdom, like I have done for many others in the past, and shall continue after you,” replied the bird.
“But now you must listen. Many years ago, a little girl returning from school heard the cry of a child and went to that path which was different from her usual. The child was crying for hunger. She gave the child bread from her lunch. After a while, she saw an injured bird that glowed bright orange, blue, red, and yellow. She knew a scientist that could help and took the bird to him. Days later the scientist told her that it was a new species. The girl was greatly honored when she heard that they named the bird after her. “The path you take will change your life forever, so choose carefully and listen to your heart just like today.” She went to sleep with stars watching her, and the bird singing a sleepy song. Anya flew upstairs the next night after a long day’s wait. The bird told her another story: “An 11 year old boy loved to paint. However, everyone discouraged him because he painted everything in unusual imaginative colors. He would paint as soon as he got a chance and felt that he could fly freely when he painted. One evening, one of his father’s friends who was an art critic came to dinner and discovered his talent. The critic sent the boy to a fine art school. He became well known and soared through his dreams all his life So remember: “if you want to sing like the birds sing, do not worry about who hears or what they think.” The bird told her many stories. It was like pearls dripping from her beak, and Anya always reached out to grasp them. Of course, their fine days ended like everything does, for the bird needed to give wisdom to another child. They bid farewell but Anya always carried the bird around, not in her pocket, but in her heart.
Belisa Alptekin Grade 3 Mesa Elementary Readers Choice Award
Winter Winter is marvelous The sparkling snow looks like jewels covering the ground The snow flakes are intricate wonders falling from the sky Icicles look like glittering daggers hanging off the rooftops Winter is beautiful!
Natlie Pujet Grade 3 Bear Creek Elementary
Swans in Moonlight Swift figures Pale as the stars Gliding over shafts of moonlight Reflecting on the lake Dew droplets shimmer on White feathers like radiant pearls Belisa Alptekin Grade 3 Mesa Elementary
The Vicuña The Vicuña obsession sits on an altiplano with its humerus next to an ancient atlatl but wishing for Attu or an atoll why does the atoll when it comes for the Vicuña still yearn for Attu Vicuñas love and atlatls will warm its humerus its sore old humerus longs for an atoll to destroy atlatls for altiplanos disappear on Attu I often wonder about Attu and just where is the humerus is an altiplano dry are atolls nice I guess it depends on the Vicuña as well as the atlatl Paleoindians used atlatls most likely on Attu where their Vicuñas and humeri live on Atolls we are on an altiplano
I believe that an altiplano may exist with atlatls is Attu an Atoll probably not, but humerus is a word that I like, Vicu単a Dillon Bush Grade 4 Bear Creek Elementary
Pack Howling in the nearby alleyway Flashes of white, gray, and black fur race by Sounds are not far away getting closer and closer. The pack has arrived. Icy and cold now the alleyway is empty Quiet and dark No light will be seen there again The pack has arrived.
Paloma Wilson Grade 4 Lafayette Elementary
Teach Me (Inspired by a Ute prayer) Earth teach me planning as the viper plans a bite Earth teach me defense as the vulture defends its young Earth teach me weakness as ants weakness is people Earth teach me peace as the people sit in peace Earth teach me sleep as the children sleep in peace Earth teach me teamwork as aunts work together Earth teach me patience as the hunter stalks patiently
Koki Renwick Grade 4 Fireside Elementary
Our Friendship When we first talked to each other I knew we would always be friends. Our friendship has kept growing and I’ll be here with you ‘till the end. You listen when I have a problem and help dry the tears from my face. You take away my sorrow and put happiness in its place. We can’t forget the fun we’ve had laughing till our faces turn blue. I will never, never, EVER forget you! We always talk of the things that only we find funny People think we’re insane. You’re like my umbrella, and I’m like yours when it starts to rain. I guess this is my way of saying THANKS for catching me when I fall. Thanks once again for being such a good friend and being here with me through it all. Isabella Bosa Grade 4 Bear Creek Elementary
Frozen Trees All the frozen trees Touch the sky and huddle close. But to no avail. Dillon Bush Grade 4 Bear Creek Elementary
Willow Lonely willow sways Quietly wind whispers peace Inspires me to dance. Maia Penuel Grade 4 Bear Creek Elementary
Trees Dancing through the wind Pretending to be shadows Swaying together Chloe Bilello Grade 4 Lafayette Elementary
Breaking Silence Pure silence. Then the sound of a bell. ding! ding! ding! Children running from the big doors of the school building. All bundled up in layers, the children run in all directions, the freezing cold wind biting at our cheeks. Then the doors close ... and everything is silent once again. Maia Penuel Grade 4 Bear Creek Elementary
Titanic I am the Titanic I was the world’s biggest ship For only seven days Joe Boehm Grade 4 Lafayette Elementary
Ode to Winter Nevado y claro sombras largas de árboles, agua congelada y palitos. Colinas llenas de nieve. Blanco día nevado, pájaro sentado en el árbol. Campos abiertos, piedras y cercas de madera casas cubiertas de nieve y muy tranquilo y solo. Snowy and clear long shadows of trees, Frozen water and sticks, all the hills are full of snow. White snowy day bird sitting on a tree, white open fields, rocks and wooden fences, houses full of snow and it’s so quiet and alone. Tavy Silva Escalante Grade 4 Columbine Elementary
Sunrises scaring the night away, the colors red, orange, pink, yellow, and purple swirl leading the king to his throne in the sky Cooper Smith Grade 4 Lafayette Elementary
A Man in a Mill Likewise I love to sew for the thread finds the needle the tip pierces the vast sea of fabric and reveals a hidden rose the rose then turns into a bunch and the bunch into a bundle and a lass carries the bundle to her master very keen the master praises the lass with many golden fingers the fingers from a wise old man that lives upon a hill the hill atop a finger atop a bundle atop a mill in the mill an old man works sewing under a hill and that my friend is what I am a man in a mill Sabrina Feld Grade 4 Bear Creek Elementary
Winter Wrapped in a blanket of snow the swirl of hot chocolate surges through your mouth like a cocoa river. Frost nipping at your nose as winter melts away into spring.
Spring As winter melts away, spring arises, blooming trees get another chance, flowers and plants happy and wet together.
Summer The scorching sun blazes bursting flames across the sky as beams of light shooting across the sky on a hot day.
Fall Leaves are changing color, fluttering down off the trees To the ground in their red and orange suits decaying under the snow as fall becomes winter yet again.
Cooper Smith Grade 4 Lafayette Elementary
River The river is like long, streaming tears flowing down somebody’s cheek. The only time it stops is to catch its breath in the fall and possibly summer. Freezing in the winter, but just on the outside, for it is still sad in the inside. Waiting Waiting Waiting For what, it does not know. In the spring, the hard shell enclosing it breaks, revealing the true feeling inside. It mourns to go back to the sea, to watch the sea otters play and dolphins flip in its emotions, but no it is alone waiting for something, for someone to come along. Annika Fridberg Grade 5 Bear Creek Elementary
Burrito Power I killed a lifetime Of sadness with a zesty Breakfast burrito. Benjamin Albuisson Grade 5 Bear Creek Elementary
Ode to Laughter Notes of golden bubbles, Jumping through the air, Galloping over the heads of elders, their weathered faces glowing, recounting echoes, stories to their cherub faced grandchildren. Laughter. It seeps into the world, even when unwanted. A child, seven or so, clothed in black, steps in between the isles of pews, and grown-ups, solemn tears into handkerchiefs. The Child steps up, running her pale, thin fingers, over the carved casket. The solemn grown-ups, straightening their ironed black garbs,
Watch through eyes pooling with tears. And the child breathes, closes her eyes, and then, She Laughs. Tossing her head back, laughter bubbling, cheeks pink, over the bleak black crepe, dim oil paintings of bloody sacrifice, and out the stained glass window, piercing the persistent rain, up, over the clouds, up, twirling around the sun, dancing, and then returning to the stunned-silent church. Grandad would want us to laugh you know. She says, matter-a-factly. Suddenly, ruddy, tearstained, Grief stained, shriveled, She comes up, rushing to her granddaughter. And she laughs too, at first a croaking, rusted sound, and then lighter and lighter, like a child’s, intertwining with The Girl’s, and winding up to the carved rafters. And it is golden as the sun breaking through the clouds, Laughter. What a marvelous thing it is.
Lola D’Onofrio Grade 5 University Hill Elementary
Butterfly As
you
fly
by I
see you
in
the sky. Flutter by me butterfly.
High up
in the bright
blue sky. Fly by
me, oh
butterfly. Flit and
Fly up so high, in the
great sky
translucent wings with
colors so sweet, touch my face. A whisper. A kiss. And you come into view. A rainbow, moving
through
the blue. A spectrum
of colors and you
alight
upon a branch.
And suddenly
you’ve
gone away.
goodbye butterfly.
Sophia Murray Grade 5 Bear Creek Elementary
If They Cannot Afford Break, Let them Eat Cake: Her Fatal Mistake* Death and dirt and discomfort, In a dungeon dark and deep, In a reeking rotting rat next, Where no sunlight dares to creep, Noticing the time, Ticking, ticking never stopping, Counting down the minutes, Now the seconds to the chopping, Hauled into the crowded daylight, Can’t help but curl up and cower, But the guillotine is sharpened, And the church bell marks the hour . . .
*Princess Marie Antoinette, upon hearing that the people were starving said, “If they cannot afford bread, let them eat cake.” In the course of the revolution, the people locked her up and then beheaded her. Tera Toor Grade 5 Foothill Elementary
Tei* Ripped clothes and unkempt hair Reflecting in the rear view mirror Anything Helps God Bless His crumpled cardboard sign pleas for help Stop the car 25 cents Earned by us Drop into his once used coffee cup His grateful look Fills my heart As we drive away I feel bad for all the things I have Car House Food Love We must give back Must treat as equals The humbled They are us *Tei is one of the eight aspects of the Bushido Code, which was the way of life for the Japanese Samurai warriors. It means respect for the poor and elderly. Nikki Smith Grade 5 Bear Creek Elementary
Untitled She is like a gloved hand, holding all of her emotions inside. Her sorrows, Her regrets, Her happiness, Her joy, Knead together to make her soul. Occasionally she lets a Drip Drip Drip of Emotion slip between her fingers, Giving a hint of the secret hiding in her gloved hand. Shae Williams Grade 5 BCSIS Elementary
Fire and Ice A ginger maple leaf falls. Flames swirl and touch a pond. The frost covered flame submerges, Lost, For winter has come. The fire has frozen. Summer is fire. Winter is ice. Lucinda Stewart Grade 5 BCSIS elementary
Springtime A columbine takes a breath of fresh air Breaking free from the rough soil And introducing itself to the world A baby robin chirps its first song Greeting everyone with a sweet hello As the wind merrily sweeps by with a soft breeze Brushing the green and vibrant grass While they dance with glee Yet looming in the distance Snow offers the grand and prodigious mountains a woolen cap Still resisting the sun’s tampering heat Qing Qing He Grade 5 Break Creek Elementary
Untitled Siren Soaring Sailing Swooping song Siren singing Siren song Haunting Siren singing
Hollow Hands of sound Siren ground
Trying Tryng Trying long To avoid the siren song. But alas there is no hope. Sirens tempt you on the island slope. Diving in you feel you must get To the sirens, and you let The song’s long fingers pull you in Alak! Your future does look grim. Soaring Sailing Swooping song Siren singing Siren song. Haunting Hollow Hands of sound. Siren singing Siren ground Waves overlap you. You’re their prey. You will not see another day. The last you hear is that cold sound To which you are so hopelessly bound. Still the sirens sing their song. The sirens sing Their siren song. Molly Dever Grade 5 Douglass Elementary
Untitled Gathered wood on the break of dawn before he closed his eyes Dreaming, images of leather and knives found themselves in the glistening light Alana Kihn Grade 5 Coal Creek Elementary
Cat Padding on the floor with soft paws disguising their inner tiger But when needed as fast as a cheetah or as brave as a lion or as violent as an anaconda But quickly tamed by canned tuna Reduced to liquid languor
Dashiel Walker Grade 5 Bear Creek Elementary
Untitled At our house in the summer, we grow many types of plants that we have to water a lot. I have a special place and my special place includes food. It is an herb garden, and my favorite thing about the garden is the tarragon that grows there. I have to wait for summer for its lush, green leaves to reappear. They are my favorite type of herb ever. When I bite into the plant’s leaves, my mouth receives a light, minty taste. If I eat handfuls after handfuls, when I drink water afterwards my mouth and throat cool down like I have mint in my mouth, but better. Lucky for me, the tarragon plant is a perennial, so it comes back every year. I sit by it, just eating it, not harming it. But when winter comes, the tarragon leaves fall off into the whirling wind and disappear into the day. So then I have to wait for the next summer to come. Samantha Vanzura Grade 5 Bear Creek Elementary
The Wind The wind has come, it’s come to dance And play on the soft golden hills The wind has come To sing down to me From the tall and rusty maple leaves In the darkness of the night The wind whispers down to me From the shining starts, Calling for me to come, To come and play When the sun breaks The unforgiving night
The wind will take the shadows away, Remains of the cold dark night It will wake the birds, Calling them to sing The wind has come, Not to leave when The noon sun reigns But to dance on the waters, Of crystal lakes, And wake the sleeping meadows, To set free the butterflies, Of the trees, And hold the world In its gentle hands, To watch the sun Say goodnight, And sleep in the crooks Of the rising moon The playful wind Will always be, But the playful wind We will never see Sadie Smith Grade 5 Lafayette Elementary
Icy Ice Spreads throughout the lake a slightly bluish hue. Cracks spread around the cold, smooth surface. It stays for the long winter. Going away from the lake, then coming back to spread its white fingers across the sparkling blue lake. But when springtime comes, it slowly creeps away. Bettina Bottome Grade 5 Bear Creek Elementary
Toothpaste There is Toothpaste on my Head There is toothpaste on my Bed There is toothpaste on my Nose There is toothpaste on my Toes In three hundred sticky rows Every time I Squeeze and squeeze It spurts out onto my Knees There is toothpaste everywhere Even on my Teddy bear Morgan Hunt Grade 5 Bear Creek Elementary
Oscar He was the bell atop the highest mountain Ringing love He was my dog I tried to feed him He accepted. A week later I tried to feed him Once more He said no I watched him lie under his tree in our back yard Motionless But breathing I tried to feed him again One last time He said no. He soon became a dove. And flew away to the infinite horizon And left me Left me in the cold dark existence I should have fed him one last time A dove They have a saying you know “sa ta na ma” “Birth life death Birth” So he will come back Reborn My dove Oscar Hatcher Edmondson Grade 5 Nederland Elementary
Bays Gentle curved golden horseshoe Filled with soft blue water Many sizes large to small All over the world Again, again The ocean waves hit the shore Slowly Carving out the bay Headlands on either side Close the waters in And shelter the crystal waves Hard rock Soft rock Sit side by side Slowly worn away by the ever moving tide Shore and water teem with life Of all different kinds Birds, bees, fish, and trees The bay’s ablaze with wondrous things Anna Brasket Grade 5 Bear Creek Elementary
The Butterfly Leaves crunched under my feet like flames of a crackling fire. My purple jacket was zipped closely around me protecting me from the cold. In the distance I could see some red leaved trees. Underneath was a pair of mallard ducks. As I got closer I could see that the female and male were softly cooing together. Then, the male's sharp eye caught sight of me. With a loud call to his mate both lifted themselves into the air, beating the breeze with their powerful wings. They flew gently over some bare trees and dropped gracefully into the lake below. I skipped along the leaf covered path for a while. Eventually I stopped to take a break under a yellow tree but before I leaned against it I spotted something. A mayfly! Gently I shooed it into my hand. First, it sat there stunned, but then it opened its delicate wings and let the breeze lift it into the air. I watched it wobble until it landed on a nearby tree. Letting the sun soak into me and having the excitement of the walk tire me convinced me to lean contentedly against the tree. The tree's cold bark felt good on my warm cheek. It almost seemed I could feel the tree's heartbeat and hear it breathing. Slowly my eyelids drooped and I nodded off to sleep, dreaming of sunshine and falling leaves. When I awoke the sun was hanging low over the mountains and a cool breeze swept over me. Quickly I stood up and hurried home. My knitted scarf streamed out behind me, almost falling off. The crunching of leaves no longer reminded me of a crackling fire but of time slipping away. When I finally made it to the garden gate the sun was balancing on the tip of a cliff. There was a crimson light out making the plants in the garden cast violet shadows. Then a flutter of wings caught my eye. A monarch butterfly! Usually I see many butterflies in my garden but this year I hadn't seen any. This one was the first of the year. The butterfly flew from flower to flower dancing on air. Then it twirled into the dim lavender sky like a drop of sunshine itself. I just gazed in wonder. Then the sunlight melted into the shadows and so did the butterfly. Everywhere was darkness and the chilly air nipped at me as I felt my way to the front door. When I went in I ate supper then went to bed. Although I had many other things on my mind, I kept thinking about the butterfly. It was a simple thing. The butterfly was beautiful but many people would pass it by unnoticed. Soon I was asleep.
I woke up with cold air rushing in from the window. Slowly I yawned and got up to close the window. When I got there the sight was unexpected. Snow! It fell from the sky covering everything with fluffy whiteness. The flakes like moths were flying in the dark night. Then a cold gust of wind blew in my face, reminding me how cold I was. Quickly I closed the window and went back to bed. What about the butterfly? Could it survive in the snow? I don't remember when I fell asleep but when I woke up it was daylight. I spent the winter days wondering and the nights worrying. There were dreams of the butterfly trying to keep warm but failing and falling down to darkness. There was also another dream; the butterfly succeeded in staying warm and continued its journey towards the sun. Eventually spring came; followed by summer and the flowers bloomed again. Then came a day, the kind of day you'd spend lying in the sun; however, something happened that made me get up. It was a simple thing. Beautiful, but many people would pass it by unnoticed. First it was one. Then, another. Soon the sky was teaming with monarch butterflies. The butterflies teased and dodged me as I ran wildly about trying to catch them. The butterfly from last fall had survived. I watched the butterflies all day until the sun began to slip behind the mountains. The sky faded to a deep crimson. All of the butterflies danced their final dance of the day until the last rays of sunlight melted into the shadows and with them went the butterflies. Eliana Feistner Grade 5 Eisenhower Elementary
Kingfisher An azure blur plummets from the sky Its sharp pointed beak points downward toward the glistening water its unerring aim makes him confident he will have a meal Splash! He makes contact with the water but keeps going down One foot Two feet Will he keep going? He returns to the surface triumphantly rising with a fish in his beak His feathers are streaked with water as he lifts off into the air Goodbye Mr. Kingfisher! Tristan Hird Grade 5 Bear Creek Elementary
Chickens Chickens scratch at the dry, barren dirt, hoping to pick up a juicy grub or two. Miners hacking at the ground. Nikita Marlin Grade 5 Coal Creek Elementary
Two Flowers A bright red poppy Red like blood A dark yellow daffodil Splattered with mud. Nikita Marlin Grade 5 Coal Creek Elementary
Raccoon Slinking slowly through the night, unlike his mask his eyes are bright Into driveways he cautiously rambles and his music starts SMASH! BAM! CRASH! Down goes the trash can Topher Patten Grade 5 Bear Creek Elementary
Untitled My favorite hobby is designing clothes, but it’s not from brand new materials. I do what is called upcycling. That is where I take clothes that don’t fit or I don’t like and turn them into something that I actually want to wear. When I finish it is so cool because I have something new to wear. And, the old clothing doesn’t end up in a landfill. My favorite upcycled outfit is a tank top I made out of my old jeans and a skirt out of my old shirt. It was a switcheroo! It wasn’t that hard. I took the seams out of the legs of the jeans. So I had two long pieces of double-wide denim. Then I put those pieces backto-back and sewed new seams along the sides on Great Grandma’s sewing machine. Mom helped cut out a neck and armholes. For the skirt out of the shirt, I removed the sleeves from a bright yellow t-shirt. That left me with a square tube of fabric. I made a waistband and cut off the hem to the length I wanted. I love to wear this outfit in the summertime. When people compliment me on it, I say, “Thank you, I made it myself,” and inside I am a bright sunny day. I learned how to do this on my birthday.
Dawson Shelby Grade 5 Bear Creek Elementary
A Wisp of the Painful Truth Deep in the marshland, I once wandered. Wading in water, as night becomes nigh. For mist gathered beneath the shadows. For steam rising beneath the sky. They call. They call. With their voices of silk. Run, save yourself From their glowing gaze. Deep in the marshlands, trapped in the vines. Guide me, spirits. Show me the way. Lost forever. The curious, dead. On the path of bones, the willows sway. They call. They call. With their voices of silk. Their bodies of mist Hide their glowing gaze Deep in the marshlands, a murmur sounds. Lullabies willing the condemned asleep. Follow the voices. Follow the sound. Follow the mist, arising from the ground. They call. They call. With their voices of silk. Sleeping eternal With their glowing gaze. Deep in the marshlands, the angels are here. Take me away from the pain and the fear. Maybe the angels were Death all along. The voices are callingThe Voices Are Gone Zoe Wilcox Grade 5 Monarch K-8 Readers Choice Award
Backlights Once there was an old guy with his three kids. After having visited Fresnillo, Zacatecas in their old truck, they started heading back to their ranch. It was very late at night, it was already twelve o’clock. The old guy was driving and the police stopped them. The old guy asked, “Why?” The police said, “Because the lights in the back of your truck don’t work.” The old guy said, “Why do I need lights in the back if I’m going forward?”
Omar Molina-Aguilar Grade 5 University Hill Elementary
Middle School
After the Flood It is 4 times wider than it should be. It is 6 times higher than it should be. and is clearly, much scarier than I thought it would ever be. Our little creek, is now a raging river. Our stream, looks like something, I could whitewater raft down. My eyes glaze over, and I picture a blue, six seater raft, with me inside. I can just imagine myself, being bumped into the perilous churning water, that used to be our innocent creek India Turner Grade 6 Monarch K-8
I Fell Entering the dark cave, My blood’s flow going colder And my steps growing stiffer. The shadows enveloped me in their darkness, My sight becoming lesser. And once I was enclosed in shadows, I fell . . . Tera Bryan Grade 6 Casey Middle Readers Choice Award
Soundless War “Boom! Snap! Crack!” Sheila awakes to the sound of bombs crashing on the ground. She got further under the sheets thinking she was having a nightmare or her imagination was running wild. There was another crash, but this time it was able to light up her bedroom brightly. She could feel the wind and specks of what used to be a house touch her cold, revealed neck. Her mother barged into her room almost busting down the rusted door. She looked horrified. “Come on, Sheila. We must go.” Sheila grabbed her bunny toy and her mother grabbed her felt coat with the picture of Sheila and her brother and sister. Sheila grabbed her mom’s shaking hand and they ran out of the lighted house. As they sprinted out of the door, Sheila saw black, large planes roaming the sky. “Mom, where are the stars?” Sheila asked confused and worried, for the stars were the five-year-old’s best friends. “No stars tonight, sweetheart. Don’t worry, they surely will be here tomorrow,” her mother said quietly. Sheila looked back to her house, longing for the safety of it. She watched as a bomb came down toward the house and then Sheila saw her house
explode into nothing but memories. Sheila cried out as she saw everything she could remember explode into rubble. How could this happen? “Come on, Sheila. Don’t look back, keep running! We have to hurry to the basement.” Her mother, Sylvia, looked up, and Sheila saw a look of distress come to her face. “Sheila, duck!” Sheila looked up and saw a black ball hurling toward her. Sheila ducked and she heard the whizzes of a bomb hurtle by, and the world seemed to flash before her eyes. Everything went quiet. A ring in her ears made a tear trickle down her face as the pain jolted her to the ground. Sheila cried out, trying to find her mother’s hand. That was the last thing Sheila heard. Sheila had no idea that she had just become deaf and her world had changed forever. Sheila felt her hand being grasped and she was up from the ground by her mom and thrown into a dark room. It was cold and pitch black. She saw a pair of fingers snapped in front of her ears but no sound entered. Sheila looked up at her mom and her hands were covering her mouth as she was shaking her head. Tears raced down her face as her brother, Byron who must have already been in here, was hugging her and making a kissy face that she was guessing making “shh” noise. “Mom!” Sheila felt herself mouth the word but couldn’t hear it come out. Mily, her sister, grabbed her and rocked her gently as she cried. Her arms were wrapped around the rabbit toy as she quieted down. Sheila kept running the memory of the bomb and then the pain and the ringing in her ears. She was so confused. And she felt pain that was indescribable. Sheila laid here forever it seemed like, until the world went black. Sheila woke up and was still in Mily’s arms. She crawled out of Mily’s grasp. The “basement” was dark with four beds, each stacked on each other. “Bunkbeds,” she remembered her mother saying once. There were curtains that covered what she guessed was a window. Sheila looked up and saw a wooden door that was locked by a metal strip. Looking down, she saw a bag of food and ate all that was inside. There was a cushion that was on the ground and she curled up on the sofa cushion. Sheila slept soundly not being able to hear the war around her.
Madison Sain Grade 6 Monarch K-8
Sidewalk The aspen leaves, have been set aglow. What used to be green, is now a fiery display of warm colors. It changed in a matter of hours, yet no one saw it change. The air is now chilly, chilly enough that my breath can be seen Most of the leaves; that fiery display of warm colors is scattered on the ground. And with each step I take, leaves swirl in the air, And then settle in front of me making a sidewalk for me to walk along. India Turner Grade 6 Monarch K-8
Riddles Wings like lightning jutting from her sides she flies, a huntress scanning over the vast body of water below her. A flash, a glimmer of hope two hundred feet below calls to her as she spins on a wing tip, balancing on a thermal. She spirals upwards, preparing herself to plummet, and her toes spread apart into the position that nature intends them to be in. The huntress bows her head and her body follows her as she descends down to the cruel murky waves, pursuing her prey. A splash, a pause, and the great bird drags herself up from the depths of the sea, flapping laboriously to free herself from her aquatic cage. As she rises from the water, a new presence appears. The precious cargo of a wriggling fish materializes in her talons, bleeding freely into the water, trapped in her death grip, leaving a trail of red dispersing behind it. With that the huntress rises to the sky and flies away, her chicks out there somewhere, awaiting their lunch. (Osprey) Your majestic beauty stands tall before me. You cannot move, yet your presence is quite moving. Whenever I see you, my imagination ignites, turning from a tiny spark into a raging forest fire, the only thing that can destroy you. Nobody can mask your beauty. Only the clouds can rise above you. Your mosaic reflection in the lakes below you is enough to bring me to my own type of heaven, and I feel as if I were you, standing tall against the wind. (Mountain) A blur of white wings before me, that is enough to amaze me. You land gently on the pond in solitary grace, surrounded by the golden glow of the sun on the water. The trees bow down to see your beauty, touching the water, as if to grasp you, to pull you out of the pond. Your silver tone as if it were a last goodbye, soothing, the colors and pitches blending together and being reflected off of your feathers of pearls and ivory. You are the jewel of the forest, the very essence of its beauty and grace. You take flight once more. Thunder roars, and you fall to the ground. You lay, motionless, as the forest mourns for your loss. A beast in black with a firestick approaches you, casting you over his shoulder. Taking you from the forest. Little did he know, in the undergrowth of the forest, three crystal white heads rise from the ground, oblivious to the danger that they would never know about. (Swan) I walk outside, and you have completely transformed the earth around me into a blank canvas. I look up, and it’s as if the very heavens above me are falling, tiny stars dancing and swirling to the ground. I sit, fixed by your beauty, freezing and cloaked in white. I sigh, and icy fingers come out of my mouth, stirring around as if to dance with you. I always think about you, and I will always look forward to your next visit to my small town. (Snow)
Annika Ekrem Grade 7 Casey Middle
The Things Uncovered Its petals decayed, now fall on the ground. A ghostly red at midnight. The light reflecting eerily, before being thrown into the scraggly, open-armed branches of the black-clad trees that carried themselves with an aura of unease. India Turner Grade 6 Monarch K-8
Let’s Meet In Our Dreams Tonight Keeping us together in one piece. the moon appears on lonely nights for us to keep a vigilant eye on. If you’re lonely look up at the moon, I’ll be looking there too. We’re under the same sky. Like moths into flames, we’ll dance in the dark waiting for the moon’s assurance that things will be alright, as if everything was already in our control. our image of perfect. Dreadfully I say to myself, These sheets are states and you are miles away. So I’ll fold them end over end to bring you Sincerely closer to me. In my world, your world, The moon pushes and pulls our own tides. Keeping us pieced together in one. Katie Cashion Grade 7 Broomfield Heights Middle
A Library Sunlight through windows, A world of quiet and calm, New universes Medieval fiction, Volumes and words scattered about, Emotions surface Steps hushed by carpet, Wooden shelves taller than trees, A simple wonder Mira Driskell Grade 7 Casey Middle
Untitled The trees are barren A leaf no longer green falls Autumn paints my yard Ngoc Hoang Grade 7 Broomfield Heights Middle
Untitled Walking in brisk air Shotgun ready for action Pheasants fall from sky Jack Sovereign Grade 7 Broomfield Heights Middle
Untitled Cumulonimbus Lightning flashing in the clouds Rain dancing on roofs Breanna Gray Grade 7 Broomfield Heights Middle
Untitled Hanging on a branch Couples kissing under it Colliding mouths, germs Sherri Lee Grade 7 Broomfield Heights Middle
The Black Bullet At night, covered in a black silk cloak, born and raised in Europe, Almost invisible except for the engine that lets out a low growl. Like the Millennium Falcon, The Bugatti soars through the road at ludicrous speed. Speedily, it is a bullet hurtling out of the barrel of a sniper’s gun. Poised to start, The Bugatti smolders its fuel and then zooms away. Diego Diaz Grade 7 Broomfield Heights Middle
The King of the Night Quietly, poised on the branch, the owl scouts the trees Like a ghost, Gliding through the night time sky In the glimmering night sky, it is silence itself Swooping over the trees, nothing is heard but a small mouse’s squeal
Anna Wolf Grade 7 Broomfield Heights Middle
Fisherman The Fish: The deep, dark blue Gliding through the cobalt darkness That seems so clear and penetrable My mind seems to focus on one thing: my ever so slight And ever so quickly growing Hunger And then I smell it And then I spot it And then I dive for it As I swallow the food hurriedly, my hunger begins to shift To a sense of nervousness, unusual alertness Because something suspicious was lurking near I must be wary Too late As soon as I saw the glint Reflected off of the queer object It had already infringed My soft, pale skin The intense pain Made me feel as vulnerable As miserably helpless As any of our young All I could do Was attempt to resist The mighty pull leading me upwards But I pain stricken and exposed Knew I didn’t stand a chance All I could think of Was the mighty pull, urging me upwards Once I left the mighty ocean And hit the frigid air My sole thought Was that of my burning lungs Desperately pleading and needing For me to go back To the deep, dark blue
The Man: Night has fallen I silently drop my hook With the ever so common Bait on the end I am the last one out In these parts Just waiting for one more catch Before my shabby vessel Heads home After some time Some waiting Some amount of longing For that final catch I feel the tug Upon my cast line This one’s not a fighter I easily pluck The fish out of the water And land it onto my deck A plump Atlantic trout A plain one, a normal one The shiny blade of my hook has pierced The fish’s outer skin Yet the fish still breathes, although in ragged gasps I examine the specimen Its silver pelt Catches the glint Glaring off of my lantern’s light But when I peer into the Fish’s small eyes I enter a world of mystery of marvel A world of imagination, creativity I saw the animals, the plants The oceans, all of the faraway lands And realize that although it may look like it This fish not just a plain, ordinary Atlantic trout This fish has been there, done that And with its creativity
And the veil of mystery That makes it so unique Different from all others This fish can dream and achieve Many more adventurous things But if I keep the fish Out of the water Those wonderful adventures Will never happen So I release the fish from the burden Of the fishing hook And when I am about to plop it back Into the water I swear that I see a glimmer of happiness And a dash of mischievous playfulness In its wonderful eyes When it finally gets back To its home, the ocean It leaps out of the water For just a moment And our eyes meet For that fraction of a second And to this day When I’m out fishing As I peer out in the water I see the eyes Of my old friend Smiling back at me Sai Ramesh Grade 7 Monarch K-8
Somewhere In Wonderland Peter the prodigious is passing through once again His shadow behind him, bold. From Neverland, this was like his wonderland. A place where only dreamers can go . . . Thinking and dreaming, creating and being. Wendy run away with me, I know I sound crazy, Can’t you see what you do to me? I’m a lost boy. Katie Cashion Grade 7 Broomfield Heights Middle
Goodbye Recuerdo You and I were bound by fragile strings Our ties were cut when they took me away Screams fill my ears As my stuff is packed And goodbyes are said with tears You and I were bound by fragile strings Our ties were cut when they took me away You were screaming the words I will never forget “Dad got you! Dad got you!” You and I were bound by fragile strings Out ties were cut when they took me away The rest is a blur even though I was vigilant for a sign of hope But the goodbyes are distinct As if they were branded there by an iron You and I were bound by fragile strings Out ties were cut when they took me away Six years old Is too young to start being called A devastated drug addict’s daughter Jenna Vieux Grade 7 Broomfield Heights Middle
Before the Dawn It is nighttime. A stream winds through the forest. Swirling, gurgling, flowing. Trees hang down like wizened guardians. Thunder rumbles, announcing the rain. Yet the stream flows on. A wolf waits on the mountain. Sees the lightning through the rain. Rain pools above and below. Clouds block out the moon and stars. But the wolf waits on. A bear ambles home to its cave. The rain slows as it passes a stream. Fish dance, scales glittering. Clouds disperse to show the moon. And the bear ambles on. An owl flies in search of food. Mice skitter in the undergrowth. The moon sheds its light through the thinning clouds. A shadow passes through hanging leaves. Still the owl flies on. A raccoon prowls beside a fallen log. It pushes through a curtain of leaves. The river reflects the moon’s milky light. Over the mountains, the sun begins its journey across the sky. Yet the raccoon prowls on. The sun shows itself to call in the morning. The stream swirls until it meets the river. The wolf runs to meet its returning pack. The bear reaches her den with food for her cubs. The owl flies home to sleep until nighttime. The raccoon finds a meal and satisfies its hunger. Rachel Taylor Grade 8 Casey Middle
High School
Deirdre (A poem about Perfectionism) The moon is at its climax, high in the dark. It illuminates the hidden path in front of me But it’s changing, changing in front of my eyes. Hark! I hear something scream, I turn around and see Nothing. Oh, it’s her again. Why will she not go away? My feet shuffle against the gravel, and I want to be Alone, but not in the way some may think. The trees sway Towards me, as if asking where I am going tonight. I do not know, I respond, it all depends on her. I say I want her away, but she whispers in my ear, light. But to me it is not whispers, it is the scream of a banshee With a sound that cuts like the fangs of a viper. Sight Fails me and I fall, I look up and see her above. Deirdre Leave me be, please no more. But she hold out her hand, and sings, "Where would you be without me?" She's lying I know it, but for some reason I doubt it. She is nothing but a burden, with shackles tying me down. But nonetheless I reach, fearing no other route. But there is, and I know there is. But she is so good at hiding it, that I am lost in a labyrinth. The trees hold out their limbs. Let us help you, you are not alone. She hisses, with a biting tone she sings, "Of course he is not, you fools." The moon dims the lighting, it grows darker, and the trees disappear. I reach for my light, and Deirdre knocks it away. Her fingers caress the rim Of my lips. She is seductive, but a leech nonetheless. She has no features as I can tell, just darkness. The hair billows my face and takes my breath away, each
Slithers around my throat, their audaciousness Is impeccable. She holds me, but all I see are shadows, shape With no meaning. She is not real! She is only an actress That bends obscurity and gloom. I shake her off, her cape of misery disintegrates and the trees, oh their roots Are beautifully displayed in the twilight. They drape their Branches over me as I pause. Deidre has been astute, she was there when I left my home, late at night when I work, when my love had left. I fight her out, for years I have, but when I am mute She coaxes me, gently, laughing. Appearing as a dove, but then shifts into a beast. When I try to destroy her She vanishes again, a master of shade. I shove The branches out of my way, it is time. I hear her purr, my furtive Deidre, it is time for you to face me. And I lunge, the darkness surrounds us in a blur. Ari Groobman Grade 11 Fairview High
Embers When you change the look that lines their face, All you can do is try to pace How fast you absorb the changing grace Of a world that can’t stop living It’s the curse that follows young and old All those who try to love the bold Who chase the fire and find the cold And never give up on giving They look for life in the coals of storms Thinking each day of silent forms That spark the flint that always transforms Sweet thoughts into dark misgivings It’s a loss that shakes you to the bone So heed the words written in stone Love and loss are always set and known So you never stop forgiving Bryce Kirsten Anderson-Gregson Grade 12 Boulder High
Before You Say Goodbye A heart weighed down with the troubles of the world A mind sick of turning forever in the wheels of time A silence so heavy, so oppressive, That at last it became the undoing. When cries reached out to the dark expanses, All that ever returned was “I’m sorry,” But nothing came of that. When the tears fell in silvery drops, no one Ever stopped to ask if all was alright. A beautiful soul, so young, so tender Years of life compressed Into those few painful moments. It all became too much, The wounds of time drove it home. Time after time the plea, the cry, Was silenced deep inside And numbness slid into its place, The feeling that it didn’t matter. In the dead of night, As darkness fell across the land, The pain at last ceased to exist With the final breath of life. But those left behind, Those whose lives were touched, Were changed forever. The emptiness, The ache, left in its wake From the passage from this life On to the next, Could never be repaired. Stay a little while, give it a chance. Hold those precious moments, However few they are, Before you say goodbye.
Leslie Seitz Grade 11 Fairview High
Because We Think in Poetry There is none more sacred none more sound Than lines of thought and soul One word chinked into place by another Knocked out of line by the weight of the whole The poem, one in the line of a billion The queens, the histories of the markèd toll Of bells that gong and chime and burn With the light of a thousand unfilled holes In the depths of the wracked and human cold We write in line for the stories' role, To fill the space of those untold With the ink and paper of a poet's scroll Bryce Kirsten Anderson-Gregson Grade 12 Boulder High
Untitled There are dreams you dream in broad daylight, The ones you can let out. There are dreams you dream in the dark of night That just you know about. There are dreams you put up on a shelf, Ones you aren’t afraid to hide. There are dreams you keep within yourself And always by your side. They tell you, keep on dreaming, Your dreams will all come true. But you just wake up screaming, ‘Cause your dreams never do. The ones you left for all to see Have fallen down in shame. The ones you’ve kept in secrecy Have all burned up in flame. There’s nothing left for you to tell. Your dreams are all used up. Your dreams that once could fill a well Now barely fill a cup. Your dreams are crushed before they’re made. They never stand a chance. The orchestra plays a serenade With no one there to dance. You wish that one dream could come true, But a wish is just a dream. So you tell yourself what you always knew. Things just aren’t what they seem.
There are people who dream with all they’ve got, A passion that you miss. You want to speak, but give it thought, Maybe ignorance is bliss. You let these people’s dreams run free, They’ll find out soon enough Just what the world can really be And dreams just aren’t that tough. You wonder, what’s the point of dreams, If all they do is fail, But then you remember, with the faintest of gleams, The hope that once prevailed. Something within you begins to move, Something extinguished long ago. You realize that, despite your proof, Your fire begins to glow. Alex Young Grade 12 Fairview High Readers Choice Award
Just Try I had to write, in form not motion, in blocks of words like concrete poured into a shallow mold, by those looking for the picture of a person formed by the chance alignment of tiny little dots, missing the real thing, hidden in the pockets, the bubbles in the middle, perhaps an x-ray would be better than the photo on the top But it’s not like there’s enough room the box closes in, presses down, presses up trying to condense You into a five word sentence, three paragraph essay, 600 word page as if anyone could ever understand a human being in a Word Bryce Kirsten Anderson-Gregson Grade 12 Boulder High
Art Credits Front Cover Nora Cuthbertson Angevine Middle, Eighth Grade Back Cover Owen Koonce Angevine Middle, Sixth Grade Elementary Bird in tree Happy Day Kangaroo Wild cat Panda Elephant Girl African Savanna Snake Condescend
Catherine Huber Eisenhower Elementary, 4th grade Isabel Kembel University Hill, 1st grade Sebastian Pujet Bear Creek Elementary, 3rd grade Truce Stark Douglass Elementary, 4th grade Jack Good Douglass Elementary, 4th grade Franzi Pflaum Bear Creek Elementary, 5th grade Gweneth Singerman Superior Elementary, 5th grade Autumn Godard Lafayette Elementary, 4th grade Miguel Arellano Eisenhower Elementary, 4th grade Tristan Hird Bear Creek Elementary, 5th grade
Canine, Bird, Owl Orca Dragon Koi A Odious
Middle School Dog Fallen Guitar Books Optical Illusions Hand
Lynx
Grace Biesterfeld Eisenhower Elementary, 4th grade Eric Sankey Douglass Elementary, 4th grade Dante Olaya Lafayette Elementary, 5th grade Lindsay Underwood Coal Creek Elementary, 5th grade Adam Cipoletti Pioneer Elementary, 3rd Grade Qing Qing He Bear Creek Elementary, 5th grade
Hannah Vaccaro Angevine Middle, 6th grade MacKenzie Lazar Angevine Middle, 6th grade Owen Koonce Angevine Middle, 6th grade Nora Cuthbertson Angevine Middle, 8th grade Tanner Stanley Monarch K-8, 6th grade Jorge Luis Perez Angevine Middle 6th grade Nicole Vann Angevine Middle, 6th grade
High School Bird Lily Contemplation Lilies
End Piece
Brenn Anderson-Gregson Boulder High, 10th grade Brenn Anderson-Gregson Boulder High, 10th grade Ari Groobman Fairview High, 11th grade Brenn Anderson-Gregson Boulder High, 10th grade Bailey Dubs Monarch K-8, 6th grade