February Poetry Posts

Dirt and Dust
by Reagan T ~ 5th Grade

I will never understand why on days like this,
when the leaves turn golden brown, and the
air is cold and hard, I am brought to
the field, enjoying long breaths that I
take, of dirt and dust.

I will never understand why I am
lifted  by the ringing sound of hollow metal,
violently swinging, the whistle in the air, until
it bashes into the hard, solid mass of
the pitch. The feel of yelling "RUN," to
the batter. Then it is my turn.

I will always imagine the whistle of
my bat, the ringing of the hit, the smell
of dirt and dust rolling in, even before I
go. To run towards the orange, rubber
bag, sinking under my right foot, letting me
push off easily, with sweat rolling down my face.

When I grow old, I will still enjoy
the breath of dirt and dust. I will love
hearing pitches and hits; not knowing why
it lifts me.

Swimming

by Jack S ~4th Grade

Every Saturday,

I rise up,

to the lowly daylight,

for swimming.

Every Saturday,

I drift into

the backseat,

as I cruise down the road,

half asleep.

Every Saturday,

I arrive at a high school,

I warm up in this pool.

Every Saturday,

I jump up onto the miniature,

diving board,

With five others.

Every Saturday,

I shoot through the air

off the miniature diving board,

and begin.

Every Saturday,

I crush old records.

Every Saturday.