Walking to the fair, just daddy and me,
Thinking of how much fun the fair will be.
Waiting in line to get into the fair,
The weather is nice with the wind blowing my hair.
"Look at all these rides!" I say to my dad,
I can tell right now, I won't leave here sad.>
My favorite ride is the Round about,
When I go on, I love to shout!
Next, of course, is the double ferris wheel,
Only three tickets, what a deal!
Every now and then you see a chicken or two,
They've apparently escaped from the petting zoo.
Daddy and I get cotton candy,
And every year it tastes just dandy!
All we have left is two more rides,
One is the roller coaster, and the other the big slide.
After those two, the sun will go down,
And we'll be going home with an upside down frown.
On the way home, I'll have a hard time staying awake.
But tomorrow morning I can wake up late.
When I wake up, I'll be sure to tell mom,
And hopefully next year, she'll be able to come!
by Becca M.
Childe Hassam's The South Ledges of Appledore
Sitting on a pale blue rock,
A women stares out to the horizon.
The feeling of insecurity and loneliness surrounds hers.
Her skin is as pale as a lace rose.
Her hat shades her tear stained eyes.
She yearns for companionship as she ages.
She feels left behind by the world.
She gazes to the sea as if her destiny will be there.
But she finds nothing except the placid blue waves
crashing against the cliffs.
She slowly dissolves into her surroundings.
by Cassandra P.
Dale DeAnmond's Raven Opened the Box of Daylight
Ten days of darkness, no light.
The sun must have been hidden the other night.
A curious raven sees a small square,
Not knowing what it was, he went over there.
He opened it up and before he could run,
There came out a beautiful shining sun.
The raven was ashamed at what he did,
So when the people came, he hid.
You see, the people didn't like the light,
And he didn't want to get in a fight.
So he begged the sun to go back in,
But the raven just couldn't win.
They made a great compromise,
In the night the sun would set, but in the morning it would rise.
by Amanda Q.
James McNeil Whistler's "White Girl" (Symphony in White No.11)
Today is to be my wedding day,
The day my father gives me away
To a man of great esteem,
Whom unfortunately I have never seen.
My mother fusses over my hair,
Never pleased with what I wear.
She makes a deal of my white silk dress,
Making sure it is the best.
"My veil," she says, "must be the finest of lace."
Unfortunately, to find it we went all over the place.
The shoes on my feet must be made of glass,
If only I could toss them in the trash.
The decorations and food are all in place,
While I stand in my room wanting to disappear without
My mother and father had this planned out.
Since I was the height of a tiny bean sprout.
I do not know this man I am to wed,
But hopefully he won't be one to dread.
So now my mother hands me the veil,
Pushing me toward the stair rail.
All dressed up, I hold my father's hand on the landing
Ready to marry a man of great standing.
Approaching the alter looking quite quaint,
One step further...
Oh no, I'm going to faint!
by Nassia E.
Mary Cassatt's Children Playing on the Beach
Two childhood playmates sitting by the sea,
Carefree, cheerful, not curious about what will be.
Whether or not the castles they are building will someday be their homes,
Or if the small crabs around them will come and bite their toes.
Will they grow up to be best friends,
Or will they someday drift apart?
Will they swim the English Channel,
Or paint a work of art?
Will they be swept off their feet by the men of their dreams,
Or would a small problem tear their friendship at the seams?
With their sunbonnets keeping the wind from their faces,
And the sailboats on the water having playful races,
They have no worries to speak of, and there is only fun to be had,
With all the beauty around them how could anything seem bad?
How long will these blissful days last?
Until all that is left are memories of the past.
by Kristen Walsh
Edmund Hopper's Automat,1927
A bus station cafe
A dreary October day
Mary's existence means nothing
The town is out of mind
People mistreated her
Ignored by others is how she lived
Looking down into an empty cup
That's how she feels,
Crying is soothing,
Starting over seems impossible,
Her mind drifts away from the real.
The bus finally arrives
And as she boards it,
She's no longer Mary,
She's is now a nobody
Just a wandering soul.
by Kate W.
Norman Rockwell's Maternity Waiting Room
Each of the fathers waiting for his child
Nervous, impatient, and pacing.
Some are used to this waiting.
It's the first time for others.
The cry of a baby, they so want to hear.
Whose baby will it be?
It does not matter,
For they will all be happy.
After the cigars are handed out,
The rest return to their seats - - - waiting again.
One down, nine to go.
by Katie P.
To read more student work go to Student Authors or go back to Ms. Smith's English Page