THE CHANCE.

I may not be Shakespeare
I may not be Silverstein
I may not be the best poet
You've ever seen.

But I know how to write
And I know how to draw
So give me a chance
And just give it a glance.

And see just how good
This nine year old can dance!

WHAT IS POETRY?

The thing about poetry is
Well, no one really knows!

Is it one of those rhymes
That makes your ears chime?

Or is it just my sister's old
Middle school clothes?

If you find out this secret
Then tell me its real meaning.

Or my ears might start bleeding!

So please.
What is poetry?

MY STATE COMPETITION

I was worried if we could make it. 

Cheerleading was so fun for me that I could not give up.   But we had to wait for our turn to show off our skills that we had practiced for months.

My coach said that it was not about winning or losing.  She told us that it would be hard to beat more than one hundred people, but we do it by grade level—so we would be fourth to last.

Then I asked my dad if I could have a snack and he said, “Which snack?  I have four.”

“Um…the one that I usually have.  The one that has the purple spots.”

“Oh, that one!” he said. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I said to him.

“Good, I want you to be happy.”

“Yep,” I said to Dad.

We were almost up, so we got ready.  Soon it was our turn, so we lined up to go. 

I was so good.  I was the best I could do!  But we only got second place, but we did what we could—so our coach did not care.

She said that we did the best, but they don’t think so. 

I thought so.  We really were. 

Then we got our trophies and got home.

A POEM FOR SHEL SILVERSTEIN.

Know we're all tired.
But just please listen up!
I'm not trying to be mean, or a little too ruff.
But my words mean, well.
Just think Old Household Stuff.
Thank you for coming, and sharing this day.
I hope the drive wasn't too far away.

-Kate W-