WDS Poetry
The Three Fates
by Isla Jones
"Life begins like the first strand on a loom
Each day being woven together
Full of obstacles and challenges
When you make a mistake you must go back
And pick it apart and try again
The material begins like a sliver of moon
And slowly grows bigger with time
The shuttle moving back and forth
And back and forth
And back again
Breakfast, lunch and dinner
Daytime, night time, playtime, worktime
Sleep and wake
Smile and cry
The three fates cut the strings of life
The material may be short or long
But all is clearly woven."
​
Waves
by Isla Jones
"The dazzling light blinds me
as I come back up for air
I know I will be pushed back
under the crashing waves
but as I wait
I feel the sun warm me
and hear the gulls screech
and as I go back down
the wave swallows me
and all is quiet and dark
I feel the current
pulling me back"
Colors of the vowels
by Kaja Senanayake
"A burns crimson, fierce, a blazing flame,
The rose’s blush, the dawn’s first fiery kiss.
Its passion calls, a fire that none can tame,
A world alight in scarlet’s searing bliss.
E shines golden, bright as midday’s sun,
The gilded wheat fields waving in the breeze.
It whispers warmth when morning has begun,
A gentle hum among the amber trees.
I gleams silver, sharp as moonlit frost,
A mirrored lake beneath the starry glow.
Its gleaming edge recalls the paths once crossed,
A world of dreams where hidden secrets flow.
O rings of cobalt, vast as twilight skies,
A tranquil depth where endless oceans lie.
It's quiet calm, where stillness softly cries,
A boundless orb of azure's watchful eye.
U breathes emerald, life in verdant streams,
The forest’s heart, the earth’s eternal green.
It sings of roots, of growth, of nature’s dreams,
A vital pulse within the unseen scene."
red
by Aviva Erlichman
"red blood spilled against
pristine marble now bloody vermillion.
red anger burning fast, unfenced
too hot, too stark, by a million.
red roses, bright ruby red and
riddled with thorns—pretty but deadly.
red stop signs, stop stop stop! they command.
so sudden, too bright red, a color unfriendly.
red is anger, red is blood and thorns and to cease.
but red is also love, and passion, and warmth, and peace."
A Stranded Astronaut
by Sunny Guy
"A black abyss
of nothingness
Scattered stars
light a path to mars
I look down at my hometown
The sandy beach
the children’s shrieks
But all of that’s so far away
so here I am forced to stay
In this spooky, scary, lonely, wary
dark and crazy place
like a forgotten face."
To Fly Away
by Zelde Whiteley
"One flap, two flap, he jumps and falls
Three flap, four flap, he spreads his wings and soars
His sister follows, but doesn’t flap. Her body broken, her head lolls
His eyes scour the ground below
Settling on the many great brown boar
As he takes in this new point of view
The clouds swirl above on a beautiful blue
​
The world that had once seemed so new
Has lost its golden hue
A heavy heart weighs him down
One flap, two flap, he flys away
Desperate to escape the day
His soft yellow feathers turn to brown
His fight for peace
Will never cease
His sisters flight
Haunts his every night"
Water Drops
by Zelde Whiteley
"Water.
Crystal clear; A beautiful shimmering lake
​
Water.
For me to drink.
For you too.
​
Water.
A great big dark abyss.
Filled with the unknown
Ready, waiting to pull us down.
​
Water.
Cascading down the rocks.
Its loud roar fills my ears
And the rainbow of light
Reflecting off the fall
Fills my eyes with Beauty
​
Water.
“Pool time!”
“Let's go play!!"
A thing of fun.
Of joy.
​
Water.
It falls from the sky.
Blessing the ground
With each drop.
​​
Water.
A place of bonding,
For father and son.
A place to find food
For all the family.
​Water.
Something of rarity.
When it falls,
The dry ground drinks.
Relief flooding through it
Water.
A thing brought upon
By sadness.
Full of shame.
​
Water.
Cold.
Hard.
Frozen.
I glide across it,
Like a bird in flight.
Water.
My home.
My fellow schoolmates
Swirl and dive with me.
We are one,
In our great blue home.
Water.
Fresh.
Cold.
Frozen.
White footprints scatter the ground.
Water.
The first thing I knew,
Then I grew arms & legs.
Now I hop from pond to pond.
Soon, water is the first thing my young will know."
13 Ways Of Looking At The Night
by Amy Nowitzki
"I
Darkness surrounds,
covering your eyes.
Stumbling along like
a doe in headlights.
II
Through a sea of black,
there is light,
peeking through the blinds.
III
A time of loneliness,
where only the moon
will speak with you.
IV
Peace offers its hand.
Bringing safety and stillness, comfort and warmth.
V
Monsters. Everywhere.
Holding your eyelids open,
fueling your imagination.
Sleep, never arriving.
VI
Slumber captures your mind,
peaceful, steady sleep you receive every night.
VII
As you drift away,
a land of horrors you find.
You cannot escape, as if you were a bird, locked up in a cage.
​
VIII
Candy and sweets, bless you in your sleep.
All sweet dreams,
while you rest in your warm bed.
IX
A time for celebration, for good food and drinks.
Time to be with friends, flashing lights all around.
X
Just peace.
Mostly, at least.
After a long day,
in bed you lay.
XI
You lie awake,
awaiting sleep.
But sleep will not come.
This happens every night, you lay, wondering, when will it stop?
XII
You don’t want to rest!
You’d rather play all night long.
But these giants will not let you, forcing you into sleep.
XIII
One day, you’ll sleep forever.
Usually, and hopefully,
you shall enter this peacefully.
And shall not be awakened, but dug into the earth."
13 Ways of Looking at My Cat Sleeping
by James Fox
"Upon a star covered duvet,
lies a black cat,
sleeping soundly.
​
Amid the sounds of a fan
and a white noise machine,
there is a third sound, the deep rumble of a cat purring.
She lies perfectly still;
like stone,
only her chest moves up and down with each silent breath.
So passive in her current state, snuggled in the cotton blanket without a care in the world,
​it was only an hour or so ago
that she brought a fat chipmunk to the doorstep,
one moment a vicious killer; another carelessly docile and tame.
She burbles and opens her eyes when her head is stroked,
pushing against the hand so she is petted harder,
she briefly becomes excited and lets out short, loud yips,
only to become soothed back into her long nap.
​
She kneads the blanket with her paws,
extending her claws each time to squeeze the blanket,
showing that she is content and feels safe.
​
Her whiskers are almost invisible between her black, orange tipped fur, serving as eyes while she sleeps,
keeping danger at bay.
​
Occasionally she will open her mouth to yawn,
her long white teeth exposed,
her pink mouth and tongue contrasting with her jet black fur, only to snap shut in a matter of seconds.
The soft, curly, grey fur of her belly, forbidden to pet when she is awake, is now exposed as she is sprawled across the bed.
Her whiskers quiver, her claws extend briefly, her breathing gets faster,
what is she dreaming about?chasing a squirrel up a tree?waiting to pounce on a mouse in the dry brush?
​no one will ever know.
Her ear, pointed, velvety, and black twitches ever so slightly in her sleep, hearing the smallest noises only she can decipher, another set of eyes while she sleeps.
She brings in the smell of the outdoors, Her soft fur brings the aromas of pine, wind, dead leaves, and dried grass to make a sweet smelling scent.
​
Eventually, her eyes will open, she will rise and stretch her legs, jump down from the bed, and return to the outside where she will resume her hunt."
Autumn
by Anonymous
"Autumn is my favorite time
When the world is covered
In orange and red and yellow leaves.
​
When the air is brisk and cold
With a chilly breeze.
Going apple picking, and drinking
​
Apple cider, or sitting on a candle-lit
Porch, reading scary stories.
​
Going on a hike during fall is truly magical,
Surrounded by fiery colors. The
Crunch crunch of the leaves under my feet
​
And the caw of a murder of crows. Skulls, monsters, and jack-o-lanterns.
Horror movies, costumes, and pumpkins galore, autumn is my
Favorite season by far."
Untitled
by Clara Rodriguez-Tye
​
"a murder of crows all perched in a tree,
a manifestation of guilt.
they migrate once more when the
seasons change, and a new home to leave once more "
Tiny
by Jackson Lowe
"Why is tiny big?
Tiny and big are rivals
Though tiny and big work
Together
Think about it
Big is
Tiny
And tiny is
Big
Big has
3 letters and
1 Syllable
Tiny has
4 letters and
2 syllables
Let's think about it like trees
The big tree is as big as
A pine tree
And the tiny tree is as tiny
As a bonsai tree
Eventually the big tree will die and become
tiny
And the tiny tree will be
big
Now the cycle repeats
Big to tiny
Tiny to big"