I wiggle my toes and tell them I love them.
Five little soldiers, all in a line
That is, on Monday.
On Tuesday they're all little piggies going to the market;
and we all ate roast beef for dinner.
(but one little piggy had none).

On Wednesday, they are all toes again.

i was walking
peacefully
on the beach

and suddenly

there was a
stinging
at my feet.
i looked
down

and saw
the wind pulling
the sand
along
"hurry" said the
wind  
in a sort of
wooshing voice.
the sand
went as fast
as it
could go,
stinging
my helpless feet.

sand comets
i told myself.

it felt like
i was on
a different planet
mars maybe?

even the tidal pools
dried up
of the
stinging sand.

Docks look like a beautiful painting- which took
a hundred years to make.
Seagulls swooping overhead-
and the salty smell of
the ocean
waves covering me.

As I stare into her face, I realize things could have I
never realize before-

1. Beauty- As if she possesed the power of
the moon itself.

2. Wise- As if the spirit of the wise owl had
blossomed into her heart.

3. Defense- As if she had the power of the
fierce bear, protecting us from the predators
as if we were her babies.

Anyway I think of her, she is still my wonderful
teacher, and I thank for what she has helped
(not just me but also my classmates) learn.

Time flies-like wind flying past, blowing
your hair back, like colored streamers waving like the sea.
Or time could fly by seconds, flies
darting here and there
like arrows, circling your
head and your food like an angel's halo.
Or maybe, when lightning strikes
electricity swirling, following it
then an unexpected drum beat
that knocks the wind out of me
Time Flies.

School is dreadful.
Like a gobbling monster eating up my bedtime.
A world of dark and crisp.
Cold and cruel.
We are like slaves.
Oh, how long.
Hours drag along.
It seems it would never end.
From bus rides to daycare,
School is dreadful- until,
my mother picks me up- as  I snuggle against her,
and school is not dreadful anymore.

I love the way  Emily blows up her cheeks when we kiss her
Because Mom and Dad
miss her baby fat.

spring is here.
birds are tweeting in
cool dewdrop morning
their song like little bells
ringing
in the damp sunlight.

the bees buzz and fly for
their sweet morning breakfast
of fresh nectar

and the flowers are
blooming
growing every day
their petals smiling to the
sun
thanking him for spring.

I put the prism on the table,
facing the bearing
heat
of the sun.
A misty mirage appeared,
a wall of colors, the light
following
in a straight line.
The wall started to move
up and down
like color waves, crashing
on the beach.
And I stood there,
drowning in the
beauty
of the
color waves.

Wolves.
They're soothing-but mournful song dedicated to the moon
surrounds me with loving beauty of song. Their way of communicating,
it soars high above the winking stars soaring toward the receiver.
The howl fills the world with it's unique cry, but dawn
arrives to quickly and so, the songs will have to hide-
'till tomorrow.

wolves
running, howling
furry, fast, loud
barking, growling
dogs

You've reached the limit,
high above the skies,
Night surging around you,
trapping with blankets of surprise.

You've reached the limit,
high above the skies,
stars dancing silently around you,
creating winking images before your eyes.

You've reached the limit,
high above the skies,
the Moon smiling up at you,
or a glistening opal lighting up the sky.

You've reached the limit,
high above the skies,
soft grass cushioning you,
as you fall in surprise.

You had reached the limit,
high above the skies,
Wolves howling mournfully,
surrounding you with their song.

You were so close, you had reached the limits,
so high above the skies, so let us try again, shall we?

This really sounds kinda weird,
but its true.
Our dragons are kind and
only breathe out
mist or water when
they guard our lakes, ponds, mountains
- and maybe oceans.
They are our friends when it comes to
guarding, and a symbol of power, strength, and
good luck.

1,2 buckle my shoe.
Why do I have to buckle it?
It's your shoe.

3,4 shut the door.
You shut the door.
You opened it.

5,6 pick up sticks.
You pick up sticks. Next thing
your going to be
telling me is to lay them
straight.

It's just a poem!

9,10 start again.
What?! I've been through all
that and you want me to start
all over again?!

Poetry makes me feel so much-
From happy to sad,
from sad to bad.

Poetry sings to me.
Like waves of music crashing over my head,
drawing me in
drowning me and bringing me back for more.

W     olves are amazing!

O      nly at night!

L       lovable-sometimes

V       vicious

E        eager for the hunt

S        ly, tricky

I have a rabbit who's name is Go-Go.
              'Go' is dog in Chinese.

              I thought every animal in
this whole world
                            was named


Go-Go.

Today its cold and dark.
Just how I feel.