A CHANGE IN PERSPECTIVE
SMS Literary Magazine 2009
A CHANGE IN PERSPECTIVE Scarsdale Middle School Literary Magazine 2009 Welcome to the new and improved Scarsdale Middle School Literary Magazine for 2009!!! This new, online version is truly “A Change in Perspective!” We hope you enjoy this compilation of literary and artistic works created by the students of Scarsdale Middle School!
Ali Melnick Grade 7
Cover photograph by Taylor Solomon Grade 8 Lawrence Rosenstadt Grade 6
Table of Contents Literary Work Jake Abrahams Victor Avram James Baker Allison Benedict Charlotte Blatt Emily Bochner Rachel Boxer Marisa Brown Sara Calderon Mark Colbran Andrea Ditkoff Richie Gutierrez Ana Hall Jacqui Hebner Katharina Horn Rachel Josselsohn John Kaspers Sean Keith Eduardo Lacagnina Alex Levin Jon Levine Allie Levy Lauren Lilly Juliana Maronilla Cailey Martin Meagan McDermott Becca Miller Madeleine Minke Alexandra Naclerio Daniel Nodiff Marc Oil Haruka Ono Alisha Parikh Julia Phoon Orion Rendon Ben Rosenbaum Becky Schwartz Kalila Shapiro Ethan Shire Jessie Somekh Emma Spencer Chloe Stoddard Abigail Stone Sydney Waldman Brandon Weissman Connor Wolfe Rachel Wolfe Chelsea Wong Taylor Yu Zachary Zlatin
Page 18 19 18 9 20 24 17 5 12 7 23 17 14 22 11 21 18 21 14 13 14 20 9 6 16 8 8 13 24 12 13 23 15 25 4 10 5 8 13 5 9 7 7 24 6 20 10 4 25 22
Artwork
Page
Haley Baker 10 Zachary Cromwell 4 Celeste Dilauro 12 Caroline Gold 23 Chris Katchis 27 Jacob Kirschenbaum 9 Eric Kwong 14 Noah Li 18 Ali Lonner 7 Ali Melnick 2 Meera Nayar 11 Megha Nayar 11 Melanie Norman 25 Connor Pascale 27 Alex Popescu 6 Lawrence Rosenstadt 2 Kate Schnitzer 21 Oliver Shenberg 27 Taylor Solomon cover Jessie Somekh 15 Kaitlyn Son 4 Sarah Walden 17
3
That Thick Hot Blanket That thick hot blanket Covering the globe Created by car gases Trapped in the atmosphere The sun rays stay Causing us to have warm days Even when it rains Leaving no hope for snow days Tricking flowers into blooming Making them think spring is here Killing crops Farmers losing money Melting every trace of ice in its sight Turning what were once normal days Into havoc ways No longer can we cool down Not with this heat around This must be stopped Some sacrifices made Just to live another day That thick hot blanket Get out of our way! Zachary Cromwell Grade 7
Chelsea Wong Grade 8
Kindness is an exotic aquamarine It sounds like my mom whispering “goodnight” to me in my ear It smells like one of my homemade cupcakes for my dad on his birthday It is the taste of a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup on a freezing winter day Kindness is knowing when to say you’re sorry and meaning it Orion Rendon Grade 6
Kaitlyn Son Grade 6
4
Winter is Coming The girl descended from her bus She started walking down her street Humming It was a beautiful fall day There was a brisk breeze A bright sky And an array of fall colors in the surrounding trees She had on her favorite sweater Perfectly content she neared her home Suddenly the wind picked up The trees started shaking violently and The sky darkened She could almost hear the trees whining that their leaves were falling And they would die soon She could feel the wind whistling through her bones Sending an icy chill down her spine And she could sense the sky Telling her it would only get darker In days to come She paused, standing at her front steps Slowly walking up her front stoop She whispered, “Winter is coming,” Marisa Brown And it was.
Winter Sky The cool breeze enters my body as I walk out the door. Signs and trees reach out and call for me. Trash and lonely sweatshirts on the ground just wait to be covered with snow. Walking down those eight steps I see storage boxes calling Rent Me National Mobile Storage. A yellow school bus waits for the kids to come. Many trees crying as the cold air runs up their lonely bark. Children run down the path with balls and feet hurting the road. As I continue to walk around I see more signs and trees that remind me of myself. Now as I start to enter the building I start to appreciate the beauty of the winter sky.
Grade 8
A Walk Around Scarsdale Middle School Where is the December snow? I walk outside and see the bare limbs of the tree Like a skeleton’s hands, reaching out towards me A shiver crawls up my spine The glint of the sun on the car blinds my eye As the American flag billows in the wind passing by
Becky Schwartz Grade 8
I lie down on the hard, cold, concrete ground And gaze into the sky As the clouds float by But lose concentration from the bus’s screeching cry Silence Then suddenly we hear A noise from above Is that Emily who is near? As we walk up the hill We approach the weeping willow tree The buses begin to descend upon us Stirring up debris As we head inside The day feels like it started so long ago But we are still left wondering What happened to the December snow?
Jessie Somekh Grade 8
5
A mirror is the diamond in the sun With the color of all The amazing shape of that colorful sun Hair sprinting In every direction Luster of the black Whiteness around soft love Sparkling tiger fur As your eyes Blindly twirl colors Gazing at its fangs Burn blue Brandon Weissman Alex Popescu Grade 8
Grade 6
Worry is a pale and sick yellow It sounds like someone gasping for breath It smells like the exhaust from a bus It tastes like bitter cherry-flavored cough medicine Worry feels like an invisible heavy weight On your heart. Juliana Maronilla Grade 6
WORK URL
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A FLOWER A flower is like a painting, No two are alike. Its brilliant colors are breathtaking, Its smell fills the air like a perfume, Its velvety petals feel as soft as a cloud, It looks like sunset with many colors, It shines in the sun, As the water drops from the previous rain glisten. I ponder, looking into the flower, wondering how it twisted its colors as if it was tie-dyed, Started with a dark shade of pink in the center, And slowly lightening as it reaches the tips of the petals. Chloe Stoddard Grade 6 Ali Lonner Grade 7
Flicker
Stupid Drought
My flowers are witherin’ Nothing gone a’bloom Tell me, weatherman, Tell me, tell me, tell me it’s gonna rain soon! A week has gone by Nothin’ but a drought, I am doing the stinking rain dance, C’mon and change this about! Rain’s been predicted Pretty soon in fact - oh my, Many, many days gone by Yet it’s still just a lie. I go to my tap to fill the watering can, Not a single drop comes thundering down.... Oh Man!!!! WORK URL
Mark Colbran Grade 7
I am orange I am red I am yellow I am purple I am bright and colorful Hot but you want to touch me Forming shapes reminiscent of sand castles I illuminate and warm a room Religious, romantic, reassuring Casting shadows on the wall Smell the aroma Be still be quiet...you can hear me crackle Let me radiate Watch me melt away Abigail Stone Grade 8 7
Late Night Homework Run 9 o’clock, gone to bed, Mom yells, “Wake up, sleepyhead! Your homework’s bad, it isn’t done! If you don’t hurry, you’ll be up till one!” Get up, bleary-eyed, Complain, fight, left teary-eyed, Tomorrow’s when my paper’s due, Scrap my thesis, begin anew. 10 o’clock, paper’s done, But the battle’s just begun, Learn the Pythagorean Theorem, My parents are yelling, but I can’t hear them. 11 at night, feeling blue, But one more thing is left to do. Science is Astronomy, Stars ride upon a Milky Way sea. 12 o’clock, finally done, Rest is earned, and rightly won. In school, hand homework in, Feel like I’m about to win... “I can’t accept this. It’s not done right. When did you do this - 10 at night? I can’t accept this. Do it again.” I got so mad. I stood up and then “Where are you going?” the teacher said. “Me? I’m going back to bed!” Becca Miller Grade 8
Writer’s Block Do you know that feeling When you have writer’s block? So you want to write about writer’s block But you can’t even think How you would begin to describe writer’s block? The other poems I’ve written are junk By handing those in I would flunk The other poems can make you cry So this is my last try No matter how hard I try These lines don’t have rhymes My metaphors are about as gray As the sky on a foggy day My similes on the page Are like garbage in the trash can My Haikus don’t work No matter how hard I try I can’t get the form So my writer’s block is gone I can get to work now WORK URL Here is a fine poem Kalila Shapiro I can use. Grade 7
My Pencil Case My pencil case Is like an office superstore. In aisle one, There are mechanical pencils Of many colors Erasers half gone, Worn away from my math mistakes Others the lead is done, from all of my writing in English. The interior Is marked with scribbles Of blue and green highlighter. Spanish flash cards from aisle two standing upright. One a little bent from being at the bottom The other covered With little marks from a pen without a cap. In aisle three are blue and black pens Scattered among the other things Some with caps that have survived And others have been lost, Fallen to the bottom of my backpack. Whiteout from aisle four, With a little bit on the label The brush, cake-like, from all its use in science The screw on top lopsided From when I was worried I would be late for social studies If I didn’t hurry. Some hair clips and hair ties To control my curls. Highlighters in aisle five 3/4 of them forgotten Because I usually only need one color. The others lay in wait. My office super store pencil case Sits on a parking lot of binders Waiting for a customer Or a delivery.
Meagan McDermott Grade 8
8
Mindless Faces No one here Besides me And these echoing walls That seem to never stop echoing The echo is A mysterious voice Lurks around me Suddenly Mindless faces appear Silent drapes cover the broken evidence of these mindless faces I realize that mysterious voice that seems to be echoing off the walls Belongs to these mindless faces They have no secret Only they know and no one else The only way to find out what this secret is Is to see through them See beyond what they are showing Because The mindless faces Mysterious voices Silent drapes Are all a small piece of a very big imagination The true key to see what their secret is Is to look deep inside yourself Because you are the one who creates these Mindless faces Mysterious voices And silent drapes Lauren Lilly
Grade 7
Jacob Kirschenbaum Grade 8
Clean Teen I step into the shower And I hear squeak squeak As I turn the rusty knob I hear eek eek It’s a faint drip drip Sprinkle Swish SHHHHHHHHHHH continuously flowing Splatter splatter SPLAT Squeak, eek I’m clean!
WORK URL
Allison Benedict Grade 8
Jeans Blue and distressed, I wait for warmth. Ripped to shreds by you, my friend, SIlently I pray to be repaired. Cold and limp I sit, until someone comes along. Thrown, beaten, and soaked, I sit with dirty outcasts. Looking to be purified, I hide. Crumpled up and damp.
Emma Spencer Grade 8 9
Stone Beach Sauntering along the shore Waves lapping at my feet Silver pools of light Cascading of objects in the distance I pick one up Marveling at its sheer beauty Passing it between hands Respecting its flawless complexion Running my thumb Across its glossy base Tapping gently at its dense core A light ringing shyly responding Its alluring color Like the sand, full of shells squishing Beneath my bare feet Setting it down carefully With the rest once again
Haley Baker Grade 7
Seeming to seamlessly The Sun
Mend together WIth the others of its kind Stepping backward To admire them as a whole Slowly walking away From the glorious beach of stones Rachel Wolfe Grade 7 WORK URL
I wake up as the first songbird calls I open my eyes as the last bright star falls Some mornings, I wear a gray shroud It covers me up, a heavy cloud Some mornings, I flood the earth WIth light and gold and warmth and mirth I flood the horizon with warm crimson light Bringing in morning and pilfering light Ben Rosenbaum Grade 8 10
The Changing Shore The sea grass was quivering As the wind sang, The white sand once hot From the blinding sun Became cool, The soft ground near the shore Turned cooler still. No longer were the sounds Of laughing people, But lapping waves And the solemn cry of seagulls Continued to persevere. It was a peaceful time, But after times of peace, There are always times of commotion. The sea grass became a frenzy And the wind a howl, The sand literally flew Stealing belongings And tearing into eyes, For a sandstorm had nested On the rested shore. It was a chaotic time. But after times of commotion, There are always times of peace. The sea grass slowed its dance, The wind lessened into a croon The sands drifted back into place; Tired of their tiresome play, And as if to signal A quieter time has come, Two rainbows Of gentle blues, greens, reds, and yellows One on top of each other Were shot into the sky. It was a peaceful time once more. But the red marks on my skin Where the sand stung Remain to be healed.
Meera Nayar Grade 8
Megha Nayar Grade 6
Katharina Horn Grade 6
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A haze of orange Sticks its curious head Out from where it slept. An exotic Glow fills the sky with beauty and purity, And it yawns sleepily. It rises slowly, Pulling the covers off From over its head. It smiles willingly as it paints the sky a bright blue, Droplets of dew swim from leaf to leaf, As the wind makes the leaves undulate. The sun reflects against the ground, And the world wakes up, too. Sara Calderon Grade 6
Color Chorus The night was a splendid gold and red, The sun was setting, leaving night to chase away day. But night didn’t come so quickly, I strolled into the rectangular dog-run filled with plants, The sun positioned in the exact right place, Then came the color chorus, Hundreds of lady bugs came from the plants and the sky, They performed a ritual of spins and dives through the red sky, Then the bees’ buzzing started And one small orange ladybug landed on my fingertip, It crawled with its miniscule legs and body up to my palm, It lay there watching his friends Then the buzzing died away, And as the sun finally set, Sending an explosion of magnificent colors, The lady bugs flew away, one by one And the last to leave was my little orange lady bug, It flew into the air and disappeared All was dark, the fire flies slowly roused, welcoming night, They glistened, but I could not stay to watch For I had to go inside. Daniel Nodiff Grade 6
Celeste Dilauro Grade 8
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I am from the sink From mint toothpaste and stylish gel I am from the messes made The sweet smell of computer I am from the bright yellow dandelion The petite fichus tree Whose long limbs I remember As if they were my own. I’m from treating people kindly and being talkative From Michael and Beth I’m from deafening yelling and trying to sleep all day And from, “Let’s go to Pizza Kitchen.” I’m from “be nice” and “eat your veggies” and “Rock-a-bye Baby” I’m from going to Florida I’m from the City and the United States The tasty tuna and delectable Snapple From the sticky egg cracked on the head That redheaded little boy Little Ernie and Elmo On my desk To my heart. Marc Oil Grade 8
I am from Animal House From rice and cantaloupe I am from the red rough velvet bricks The horror of two wolves I am from the blueberry bush The oak tree Whose long gone limbs I remember As if they were my own. I’m from a psychoanalyst and lawyer From my brother and to my sister I’m from pecan soup and My mom never making a pie just right And from a place I call home. I’m from motor mouth and a thief And rise and shine I’m from Over Achievers I’m from New York and Russia Pickles and chips From the aunt with nine cats I’m from a family of tennis Trains that can never be touched Under my bed Where the memories of monsters Lie, in my heart Alex Levin WORK URL
Grade 8
Papa His wrinkled face is creased Once shiny ebony hair has turned silvery gray Yet still remains full like a thick carpet Drooping, tired blue eyes are lake water clear Reflecting wisdom and age of generations gone by. Gnarled, knotted fingers Bent and distorted as if damaged by a tornado Grab my hand gently but firmly Making me acknowledge The strength beneath the battered and worn exterior. A redwood tree, straight and tall At present stands crooked and unbalanced Like a wobbly, unsteady table. Taut, stretched skin Of the young soldier’s face Pictured in an old framed photograph No sags and surrenders to gravity As the limbs and bones Can no longer ignore the ticking of time. A youthful pilot Who used to soar in the sky like an eagle Currently struggles with each agonizing and slow step As if climbing a steep mountain. A bold, robust voice Shouting commands over the din of deafening engines Has become frail and fragile, Shaky and softer, Weakened by time. Yet, in his understanding, kind smile Lives a quiet, thoughtful young man, Who grew up to become my Papa. Ethan Shire Grade 6
Forever I knocked over the salt, And I feel really bad. It wasn’t my fault, Although, you got quite mad. But, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll probably have bad luck forever. Madeleine Minke Grade 8
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I am from a soccer ball From a soccer field and a goal I am from the stadio di Roma With the smell of pretzels and hotdogs I am from the grass The tree Whose long gone limbs I remember As if they were my own. I’m from Italian and Spanish cultures From Nonna Rosalia and Mama Carmen I’m from eating a lot and sleeping And from mixing up languages. I’m from eat your vegetables to Fai i compiti And L’Inno di Mammeli I’m from El Salvador and Italy From pupuscas and pizza From Lucrecia Who lived throughout the war To when she sewed la Colcha She stays in my heart. Eduardo Lacagnina Grade 8
Leap Thump thump swoosh Thump thump swoosh It’s almost my turn to go Thump swoosh The girls before me take their turns Thump swoosh I get ready I run, Pushing my bare feet across the black rubber floors With walls surrounding covered in mirrors Thump thump I bend my knees almost touching The ground. I jump up with my legs straight apart with My hair flying in the air Swoosh I make my land with a loud THUMP And catching my breath I walk back to the line and Leap Again Ana Hall WORK URL
Grade 8
Eric Kwong Grade 8
Misery is jet black It sounds like the last words of a loved one It smells like the smoke coming from a cigarette It tastes like tears running into your mouth Misery feels like you are slowly crumbling Into dust Jon Levine Grade 6
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Jessie Somekh Grade 8
Fuel for the Soul A busy kitchen With maids and chefs, Servants and residents. Clatter is heard, And commotion is here and about. Conversation with soft whispers. A trickle of water drops, Softly splashing on my cheek. While the blazing stove Sparks heat into the atmosphere. Ripe, red tomatoes. In a sizzling curry, Spices and flavors, The aromas tingle about my nose. People enter and leave, As the meal prepares. Knives jut into freshly cut vegetables, And sounds come from every direction. The feeling never ends, Things are always changing in this room. A continuous transformation of ingredients Into elaborate dishes. But one thing will always remain constant: The kitchen will be fuel for our souls.
WORK URL
Alisha Parikh Grade 8
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Benny Steel gray feathers pulled in Brilliant yellow head cocked With a mischievous sparkle in his sweet brown eyes And twin spots of scarlet-orange cheeks Bright paint spatters Looking for trouble He chews on the telephone cord Looking up, head feathers shoot to the sky The word “kiss” coming from his beak over and over He stretches a foot back and spreads his feathers “Good bir-ir-ird,” he says loudly, hoping for attention He puffs out his chest and starts singing to himself in the mirror Not really understanding that it was himself that he was seeing Trying to impress the other bird Benny talks to himself Chewing on a spinach leaf now Claw curling around the leaf like a human hand Trying to hold still Imitating his owners, laughing, Screeching, “AW-W-W-WWW!” Now he sleeps on his little swing, Stirring occasionally and half-waking Nibbling on his leather chew toy Cutting the leather with a strong, sharp beak Tweeting to himself quietly Benny fluffs his feathers Dropping his treat bowl to attract attention and getting it Yawning with his beak stretched wide With a piercing whistle that can be heard from the backyard He tap dances across the floor of his cage, stopping, expecting applause Hits the cage with his beak Looking disappointed when he gets no response Outside, the little cockatiel walks through chest-high grass Waddling around and snipping the shoots in half; our little lawn mower Panicking when he realizes that his owners are a few feet away Frenzied flapping until he is again on a reassuring finger. Cailey Martin Grade 6 WORK URL
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Tolerance Tolerance Is an attitude She embraces others’ differences Like a bee Enjoying a flower garden Respecting differences Is tolerance Like the destruction of the Mesopotamian walls She unites others And can make one feel included Reassuring Encouraging And cherishing Like a mother cuddling her son Is tolerance Intolerance Is an abominable attitude He insults others Like being sprayed by a skunk Can make one feel excluded Intolerance brings rumbles Creates hatred Causes pain Like scars and wounds Shedding blood Tolerance creates Happiness Peace Love All we need is love Richie Gutierrez Grade 6
Sarah Walden Grade 6
plgy ‘m srry tht frgt t wrt ths wth vwls Rchl Bxr
(Apology I’m sorry That I forgot to write this with vowels) Rachel Boxer Grade 8
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Beautiful Earth
Sunset at my Cottage
I wish the world were round and green, So much greener than you have ever seen. I love the earth with all its glory, It’s just perfect for one great story. I adore the lakes so verdant and clear, Its beauty makes me shed more than a tear. The trees so pretty in their flowering, fruitful finesse, I want those shrubs and flowers to be all mine, Put in a bottle; it would be so fine, Wrap it up round and round with an old ball of twine. Just like one of those globes full of snow, Snap it up tight in a little glass jar for show. If I could have only one wish, I would put in nature’s best, Mix it in with cinnamon, sugar, spice, and all the rest. I’d take my little glass globe to bed at night And stare at it, and hold it really tight. Turn it over and over until the darkness loses its fright, Then I would play with it till the morning’s light. I’d watch the snow fall ever so gently, in my little glass jar And wait and wait... Until the entire world was round, clean, and right. James Baker Grade 6
The Pond As the gentle breezes Ripple the surface, A bass, huge, smooth, graceful, Streamlines for the wriggling Caterpillar.
Every time I go to the cottage I know I’m close, Because I can smell the lake The cottage is a family place, Nestled in the woods, Between a two lane highway, And Lake Huron. Once there, I cherish The happiness of eating with family, The brilliant glow, Of the sun setting The same as the fresh acorn squash My grandpa grew In the backyard. Everyone holds their breath While we watch The sun slide down Into Lake Huron The colors stick to the clouds, Like paint Splattered on a canvas, Every sunset is different, and beautiful, But to be there with family, Makes it even better. John Kaspers Grade 6
Splash! It jumps one foot In the air, freezes like time Stopped, then descends To the water with a Splash! On the other end, A heron spreads its huge, Straight, feathery wings And dive bombs The water. Swoosh! The heron Rises higher, with the Bass flopping in its Mouth, and flies away WORK With URL a large Swoosh!
Noah Li Grade 6 Jake Abrahams Grade 6
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Ixtapa Red glow over the horizon line Distant water fusing with pink sparkling sky Low sun peeking out Last rays casting long shadows on the beach floor and walls The land seems wavy with the heat hanging in the air The humidity like nothing else on Earth Sitting on a bench In shorts and a t-shirt Feeling the cool wind ripple past No place up north having these beautiful plants Coconut trees stand up like umbrellas Their curved leaves slowly bobbing up and down Low big-leafed plants cover the sidewalk Water lapping up on the beach Then calmly retreating with a swoosh Footprints lay in the sand Shells and rocks scattered everywhere, partially hidden Out at sea, jagged rock formations stick out with sharp points and crumbling sides A restaurant, open to the outside Wide white doors and windows covering almost the entire wall Brown hairy coconuts stay lined up on a table with straws poked inside Seagulls come swooping down Squawking while picking up little bits of eaten food An island in the distance with exotic trees covering the whole hill A small village cut into the side Small huts with straw roofs stay at shore Moldy wooden ducks sticking out There is a small pool with water coming out of the sides Few strewn leaves stay on top of the water A few visitors with bright shirts A deep tan And white shark tooth necklaces stride slowly on walkways The whole place has a soft golden touch in the air The objects boast a light orange feel One side of the sky is lit with gold The other is red-purple In between a pale blue Victor Avram Grade 6
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California Fever I must go down to California again to see the beautiful beach and rip tide And all I ask is surfboard and waves to ride And the waves crash and the dolphins cry and the board falls from under me And a white spray on the waves top and a tsunami breaking I must go down to California again, for the call of the running tide Is a crazy call but a clear call; one that is worldwide And all I ask is a cloudless day with white gulls flying And the ocean spray and have it Poseidon’s way and other surfers crying I must go down to California again to the crazy surfer life To the gods’ ways, and the heavens’ ways where the water’s like a piercing knife And all I ask is a beautiful day from depressed fellow surfers And a quiet ride and a sweet tide when the long wave is over Connor Wolfe Grade 7 ...with acknowledgment to “Sea Fever” by John Masefield
Flying Life as a Broken Stiletto I sit here on the shelf Day after day Watching all my sisters Be taken away I’ve been tried on At least once a week But every time my left heel Starts to creak My store manager has tried Super glue, gorilla glue, Shellac But every single time I get sent back I hope one day My time will come When they invent a glue As strong as bubble gum Charlotte Blatt Grade 7
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It might be only me who wishes To fly, fly in the air Don’t you ever want to know What might be up there? Watching all the birds fly through Fly right through the sky I look up, desire in my eyes And heave a giant sigh What if we all had wings? We wouldn’t be stuck on the floor Yes, if all humans had wings like birds All we’d do is soar Watching the sunset, all of the colors All of them from down here What would it be like if perhaps We didn’t view it from here? Gliding next to the sun, the sun is our friend How wonderful would that be? And if I choose to shoot towards the sun Wouldn’t you fly there with me? Allie Levy Grade 7
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What Really Matters Can we say to ourselves Life is good When others are suffering War, Poverty, Illness Can we keep to ourselves Our immense riches From our brothers Can you ignore A person different from you For their appearance Because under this Might be the person who you will require When the tables have turned And you are in their worn out sandals In a desert with hope In a jungle of insecurity In a cold winter without love For when left unattended One’s soul slowly, painfully, dies And can only wait and pray For the one above the stars to help him And he who turned the other way May live a life regretting it Which is worse than being the one Who wasn’t cared for at all So people of the world Forget tangible possessions Greed, Hate, and Arrogance Are what divide us From the world we always wanted In a place where all are equal Located in an area bountiful with prosperity Where peace in the answer And, when the people in the world unite Peace will find a way Sean Keith Grade 7
Kate Schnitzer Grade 6
Inaugural Poem Our economy is weakened as a consequence of greed Our collective failure to make hard choices These are indicators of crisis Our journey has never been one for shortcuts. Our schools fail many Our health care is too costly Homes have been lost Our journey has never been one for shortcuts. Starting today we must pick ourselves up Dust ourselves off And begin again The work of remaking America. Our journey has never been one for shortcuts. On this day we come to proclaim an end to petty grievances and false promise. On this day We have chosen hope over fear. Our journey has never been one for shortcuts. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirits America must play its role In ushering in a new era of peace. Our journey has never been one for shortcuts. Greatness is never given. Everywhere we look there is work to be done Greatness must be earned. Our journey has never been one for shortcuts. This is the price and promise of citizenship. Rachel Josselsohn Grade 8
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Trees Wooden sculptures that touch the clouds With brown arms Green fingers And wet dirty feet Skin Rough or soft Thick or thin Bodies Tall or short Fat or slim Many thick arms peel off the body Reaching for the sun Sticky blood Pumping Throughout The body Headed toward The arms The fingers Nice Bright Shade of green Sometimes They lose All their blood They turn Brown Crumple up And die Their many feet Are woven Underground Constantly Drinking up Water Wet Muddy Smooth Zachary Zlatin Grade 6
Georgian Bay Bay of Ontario Shining in the moon Refreshing wind blowing in my face Pushing my hair back Wind blows as Canadian flags blow like long lost friends Distantly the city lights Shining in the dark water Moon makes a brilliant bridge across the water Fishing boats are like airplanes in the wind Birds are floating like clouds in the dark sky Waves wash onto the shore Wet sand squishing under my feet Feeling of tranquility Walking up the dock Little minnows swimming in a dancing parade Diving into the warm water The feeling is refreshing After the long day in the sun Waves splash on to me Getting my hair wet as I swim Canadian geese are honking Still flying in a V shape Chasing the bright moon Until they disappear in the night sky Deer are running along the bushes Staring as though I were a shark in the dark water Bonfires are lit in every direction Casting fires in the still water Smell of wood burning Family and friends are laughing Telling stories of scares and embarrassment Bonfires are life Never fading out, the smell and sound of happiness Jacqui Hebner Grade 7
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A Journey of No Return Humbled by the task Grateful for the trust Mindful of the sacrifices: The words spoken amidst gathering clouds And raging storms. Now Is a sapping of confidence A nagging fear That America will no longer be great. And The challenges we face are real. They are serious. They are many. We will not face them easily Or in a short time. But they will be met. Because Hope over fear Unity over discord And purpose over chaos Are our ideals. America Is bigger than the sum of ambitions Bigger than differences Undivided by wealth or birth. America is our journey And we return to our truths.
A girl sitting next to me in English class On a blue chair attached to a desk like mine With dark blue jeans from Ralph Lauren and a pink shirt Her jeans tucked in her Uggs The brown hair she has put into a ponytail Dark brown eyes always shine like the sun and full of dreams and happiness Tennis and gymnastics, her favorite activities But the best is cheerleading Her red English binder sits on her desk and so does her pencil case with millions of highlighters Everything around her turns bright Like she turned on Christmas light decorations A girl asked her if she could borrow one of her pencils She is smiling and the world already knows the answer Her smile, the greatest gift in the world Of course, is contagious Now she is holding a pencil, ready to take notes We turn our heads to face each other She smiles at me and I smile back Whenever our classmate says something funny We look at each other and we giggle When we hear bad news we feel bad together She is just another girl in sixth grade But a lot more than that to me Haruka Ono Grade 6
Andrea Ditkoff Grade 8
Caroline Gold Grade 8 WORK URL
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Lullaby Summers in Cape Cod The four-hour drive Playing Travel Bingo, Family conversation, Movie watching, Naps, Pit stops to McDonalds. Finally we arrive at the beach house. Our usual room with the country wood furniture, Overlooking Nantucket Bay. The sliding glass doors Opening to the beach. We walk onto the white soft sand. It is dark out, but the stars Are shining bright. The moon has a soft glow. We roll up our pants And venture near the water. We hear the familiar sound Of our parents calling to be careful. My siblings and I Standing there, facing the water. Our mother nears us, She takes out her camera. She wants to capture Just the right moment, For, hopefully, This will be our Christmas photo. Alexandra Naclerio Grade 6
Softly sung, to the little young, that has memories that have clung. The sweet tune, that lingers in your ear till noon, and until the new moon. Bringing back memories, like the fresh autumn breeze, the tear in the eye is pulled by these. A gentle rhyme, happiness chimes, oh, sing it one more time? Puts you to bed, Your tender pillow where you lay your head, sweet dreams are up ahead. Hush little baby, close your eyes maybe. Drift to your castle of dreams, where rainbows gleam, and joy is extreme. “A dream is a wish your heart makes,” a place with no mistakes, and no hearts break. Swept away, from the long day, taken to this amazing display. Smiles and laughter, with nothing bad coming after. I wish to stay in this warm place, but I am woken by a soft stroke on my face. The song is done, it seemed as if this tune had just begun, “Goodnight moon, goodnight sun.” Hush little baby, close your eyes maybe. Emily Bochner Grade 8
Relief is a faint purple It sounds like the swoosh of the basket, seconds before the buzzer in the championship game It smells like your dog when he finds his way back home after running away It tastes like the popcorn you eat when you get to the movies just before it closes Relief feels like the weight of the world being lifted off of your shoulders. Sydney Waldman Grade 6
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Winter Walk
Melanie Norman Grade 7
Winter Walk Skeletal fingers reach out to grab me. I lean away But the icy wind whips my face. Cold, rosy cheeks Bright red ears, The last place you would come to be warm Is the arctic that is here. Grass, Still green And waiting for snow, That is sure to fall Which everyone knows. The soft, clean white clouds, They’re shying away, Leaving the town, With a clear, frigid day. Bright sun leaves its mark for me My eyes are now sore As a I glance away from its glare. A blue sky, A bright sun, a warm room, My walk is done. Taylor Yu Grade 8 WORK URL
I walk outside On a cold December day The first thing I see The bare branches Like a skeleton’s hand. Bold sign: “Private Property. No Trespassing.” Lying on a gray, stone step A half full Dasani water bottle. Bright yellow school bus Goes rumbling down the road, Huffing and chugging. Birds chirp Break the still silence. Another bold sign: “Butler House” A lonely, green Notre Dame sweatshirt Perched on the bike rack. A silver airplane soars overhead. One solitary ball In a sea of green. The glint of the sun reflects On the cars. Proud American flag Billowing in the wind. “No Parking. Fire Lane.” Cars whizzing past Honk! Beep! from the trucks. Up the hill Lollipop trees with scrawny trunks. The towering weeping willow The branches Golden fireworks on a December day. Sitting tree with fingernails like witches’ claws Runny noses, rosy cheeks, Glaring, radiant sunlight, Through the heavy, green door. Sudden warmth hits my face Squinting in the dim light. Echo of voices in the vast hall. Rainbow of art. Pen ink flowing. Coat traps the heat. So different from the outside. Julia Phoon Grade 8 25
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Editorial Staff
Andrea Ditkoff Melinda Garcia Rachel Josselsohn Sarah Pullman
Faculty Advisor Peggy Fox
English Department Jim Andreski Lisa Bryan Alex Campbell Kathleen Connon Denise DelBalzo Brian Fisher Janie Fitzgerald Peggy Fox Cara Hiller Jonathan Hilpert Marjorie Ross Marci Rothman Trish Serafin David Wixted
Special Thanks
Michael McDermott Rochelle Hauge Duncan Wilson Denise Cassano Linda Fisher Carla Lichty Suzanne Seiden and the Scarsdale Middle School PTA
Oliver Shenberg Grade 6
Many thanks to Ken Holvig for his efforts to help us produce our first on-line Literary Magazine!
Cover Photograph
Taylor Solomon, Grade 8
Connor Pascale Grade 7
Chris Katchis Grade 8
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