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Showing posts from April, 2010

Poem: True Myths Never Die

Anthropologic Study of True Myths
Not by mere myth or legend were we begun as one language, one people, one poem set within one ancestral home.
Sciences which unearth, discover, decipher, reveal each tightly woven basket thread, uncover ancient artifact accounts inspired by common origin;
Relics from time when life began intentional, a spoken Word; when Existence breathed both soul & wisdom into the mud-face of man; beauty animated, perfection fashioned by One Triune Maker.
In Truth, we were thoughtfully placed for fair nurture, endless growth within His Holy East; His delight, a garden named Eden.
Story lines run true, noetic narratives; deep rooted & repetitive universal themes planted more central than cellular core or mere atomic structure, true tales strewn as seedstock;
Foundations cast    further than each field of stars; spirit inspired thought, flung far within the reaches of expanding Wisdom; spread throughout this vast & Sacred universe.
Because they carry the germ of Truth within…

Short Story: The Flint Knife

The Flint Knife by Jordan Romain (Grade 8)


The sound of clattering stone reverberated through the pristine halls of the musem. Sirens sounded.

“Wow, Mattie! You clumsy fool. You just broke the Badarian flint knife!”

Mattie’s wide eyes looked down at the knife. Terror made her stutter.

“I… I didn’t mean to. I tripped. Honest.”

Ms. Russell came rushing to where the girls were standing over the stone knife.

“What’s going on here?”

“Mattie broke the flint knife,” Rachel yelled, accusingly. She relished causing trouble for Mattie, her enemy.

Ms. Russell’s brow furrowed. “Is this true, Mattie?”

“Yes, Maam. I’m sooo sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“Mattie’s going to jail! Mattie’s going to jail!”

“Stop that, Rachel.”

The sirens finally subsided. Security guards flowed into the room, moving toward Maddie. As they cleared the area, the museum curator rushed in. He was a skinny, pale man with thick glasses.

“What happened to the Badarian knife? Oh, my goodness! Do you realize that this knife is 500…

A Pantoum


I am a bound bird.
Wind weaves my way,
I sing the lover's song.
I am a bird bound.

Wind weaves my way,
Quick, strong, silent wind.
I am a bound bird
Carried far away.

Quick, strong, silent wind
No longer the navigator,
Carried far away.
I grow weary.

No longer the navigator,
I sing the lover's song.
I grow weary;
I am bound bird.

--Lydia Emeric

Spring Haiku

John Nichols has been busy observing Spring and reflecting on Spring's meaning.  Here are six of a set of haiku sent to me from my former student.  Enjoy!


The first warm drop falls.
Rain brings refreshing showers:
Man, unfit for peace.

Spring breeds luscious growth.
Fawns grow strong and become stags.
My love for her swells.


Flowers are lovely,
Blossoms give a sweet fragrance.
Man is no flower.


Young stags court madly:
Man’s love, a thing corrupted,
Turns swiftly to lust.


Spring waxes mighty!
But soon it shall no doubt wane:
Man’s lies are the same.


Blossomed, Spring has left:
A lover has left his bed,
Crushed her tender heart.

Spring breeds luscious growth.
Fawns grow strong and become stags.
My love for her swells.

Hold Fast to Good Things

Here is a good poem, produced by three middle school girls who attempted to paint a picture of Spring with words.

Unfailing Spring
Unfailing youth of Spring Holds fast to all things good. A fevered glimpse of peaceful blooms: Sun-drenched blossoms, Plants and every green blade Dance and brag in the breeze.
--Savannah Baker, Lydia Emeric and Jordan Romain

Describing the Seasons

My writing students are working on showing the seasons rather than telling about the seasons.  It is a difficult distinction for beginning writers.  This student shows a picture of autumn to the reader by carefully selecting words.


Air is crisp and cool.
Umbrellas twirl in the rain.
Tree leaves, multicolored, spin down to earth in the wind.
Under shelter of warm foliage, squirrels scamper.
Mice gather for the advent of winter flurries.
Nuts are scattered beneath tall trees.

-- Courtney Rupp, Grade 6

What Easter is About

The following poem was crafted by two of my students working together.  Sometimes group writing produces good work, and I consider this to be worthy of publication.

Genesis 3:15
Unnatural laws push us to remember how things were. Our gloom brings back the Treasonable Trick. Yet the peace foreseen is inevitable, wondrous.

- Dior Hartje and Courtney Rupp