POMPOMS
BY AVIKA, 2024
Put a pompom in a craft
On a paper you see
Merrily crafting still
Put the craft on the wall
On the wall you see
Merrily your mom sees
Surprised she will be
Butterflies flying high in the sky
So pretty, colors fluttering by We can see them up in the sky
What a view seeing them fly high !
POP UP POETRY
IMAGINED, CREATED AND WRITTEN
BY INDIRA DIVIJA JAYANTI , AGE 8, 2021
Oh no, lots of static
The radio is broken
Now no more music
I sit by the pond
Silvery fish swim by me
A bird catches one
BY RADHIKA JHAVERI, 13, 2024
Roots that dig down deep intertwine, snake, creep. Branches that reach sky high where birds take off to fly.
Earth above, sea below. Not hunched like an old creaky willow. Leaves floating down, deep dark brown.
From Norse mythology, Yggdrasil some call it.
Time being knit, like the clock embedded in it’s bark, it tells all near to hark.
For it shows all the big events that unfold in time or what will happen in one’s lifetime. It’s bark coarse rough, standing tall and tough.
It’s leaves lemony gold filled with stories untold which have so much to say, swishing in the wind, it sways.
It’s roots stretch a long lengthy way into the depths While it’s branches reach up for a breath.
ECHOES OF DESPAIR
BY ZOE VELTMAN, AGE 11, 2024
In shadows deep a moonlight fades the night conceals its silent trade.
A whisper drifts through haunted air of dreams undone and deep despair.
Beneath the stars, a cold embrace, the echoes of a lost grace.
Where hope lies buried, still and cold in graves where all the story’s fold.
Time is a thief in the dead of night. It steals our days and dims our light.
It turns our moments into dust and leaves behind a fading rust.
With every tick the shadow grows.
Our memories slip and we don’t know.
How quickly life begins to fade as times relentless hands invade.
Tears fall like rain from heavy skies tracing paths down weary eyes.
Each drop a tale of silent pain, a soft release from heart’s refrain.
In the stillness, sobs take flight.
A quite storm in the dead of night.
Crying spills out the hurt inside, a fleeting glimpse where sorrow hides.
FLOWERS
Bright shades and hues, big and small blooms.
New plants are nature’ s cue that the spring is coming soon.
CATS
BY VIOLET XU, 2024
I really love cats!1
They aren’t scary like bats
They aren’t loud like dogs
They aren’t dirt like hogs
They are very graceful.
They can stand a gentle pull.
They are really cute
They are really a hoot!
POEM BY ANOOHYA PANIDAPU, AGE 6 YEARS
Going green is a wonderful thing to do.
Save the earth and the atmosphere too.
What can we do to go green?
The answer is simple and as easy as learning 1, 2, 3…
Come on let's do it, step by step, recycle and reuse, it'll make a big difference.
Clean, clean, clean to go green.
Clean up the cans, paper, plastic, and don't litter.
Earth is home for people, animals and plants, so keep it clean.
Save, save, save water when you are not using it.
Plant, plant, plant, trees in your garden and go green.
Save, save, save, the energy and power.
Here are some tips-walk and carpool, turn off the lights, TV, computer when not in use.
There are more ways to go green. You have the power to change the world. Go green, make the difference.
Take the pledge to go green and save the planet Earth. I love going green and spreading the word to go green.
BY KAYLIE MACDONALD, AGE 9, 2012
The garden is a peaceful place, which brings to the fore feelings in the human race. It’s a pretty garden that is made just for you!
Here in this garden, it feels like a crown rests upon your head, as the wind goes up and down.
I feel the embrace of the flowers and green leaves, as I think to myself of the garden’s wealth. A willow tree over a lake, with leaves of green, stones of white, bright and beautiful as twilight.
Flowers of pink, white, and blue. Clovers of green as the sun shines through on the leaves of the great, big, oak tree I see, as I think to myself of the garden’s wealth. Purple pansies, white daisies sway to and fro. Beatles lie among the trees wherever the flowers grow.
Spiders spin silky cobwebs as bright as morning dew. A lady bug’s spots of pure black, they just pop out as they do.
Yellow as twilight, pretty as a butterfly’s wing, my heart soars and sings as I think to myself of the garden’s wealth.
A garden is where elves, pixies and fairies play. Where it takes all the bad thoughts away.
Where leaves and rocks help enjoy the summer
And when winter comes it’s just a bummer.
Yellow, red, and blue flowers were by bubbling brook, I curl up and read my favorite book as I think to myself of the garden’s wealth.
TIME TO SMILE
BY YALDA ALEXANDRA SAII, AGE 12, 2012
In the dimly lit room
There is a jar.
A jar full of little pieces of paper
Letters are scrawled on these pieces,
Spelling out things she loves.
When she is sad,
Her hand hovers over the little pieces.
And, she picks one.
Her lips curl into a small smile
As she reads what is written.
STORY COLOR ACROSTIC
WRITTEN AND DESIGNED BY SWEEKRUTI KULKARNI, AGE 10, 2021
SOMEONE DIFFERENT INSIDE
BY KAVYA MUNNAGI, AGE 10
Feels like I have no voice in the crowd. Feels like no one cares about me. They say to be strong and proud but how can I be?
Everyone seems to be special though they’re all just the same. To be truthful, I got much more of an aim
They all act so happy but are they really inside? I want to know because maybe I’m just not fine.
Will I ever be known for who I am?
Will I ever quit acting like everything is just right? Why can’t I just pull off my cover? My life is in a knot so tight.
I should just express my feelings. I should just tell them how I feel. Hopefully they will understand me and then I can be real.
Will they understand me? That’s the only question! Will they stand beside me?
Should I make my confession?
Will they still support me as they have done for many years? What if I am afraid?
I guess I’ll forget my fears.
Will I still have an identity?
Should I alert my peers?
I hope they don’t humiliate me or I might unleash my tears
Will I still have friends?
Will my life still matter?
Will I have to change again for the worse or better?
Will I be misguided? Will I have another chance?
Will there still be light in the future like in the past?
Once I get through this will there be more pain? Will I feel enlightened or be alone in the rain.
All these questions are popping up. Should I ask or should I refrain? Should I share them out loud or should I hide them in my brain?
I will still be good at things just like beforewriting, soccer and baseball and much, much more.
Hope is going to guide me through the dark days and nights. I will still be happy though it takes some tries.
I wonder if I belong here? Will I still be free?
Will my friends understand this is who I’m going to be?
I want them to get my message that as long as I’m alive I will be who I am and I’ll go ahead and strive.
LEKHA CAMP SONG
LEKHA CAMP SONG
WRITTEN BY ALLISON, HIROKA, GABRIELA AND KRYSTINA
2009
When we come to Lekha writing camp not knowing what to expect. We thought it would be bad and boring, but instead it was perfect! Lekha is a writing camp, and we are writing champs!
We played a lot of hangman, we ate a lot of snacks. We had a lot of reading time.
We really had a lot of fun and had a great time.
This is a great song, with a lot of slant rhymes. Lekha is a writing camp and we are writing champs!
We did a lot of writing, we ate a lot of snacks. We had a lot of reading time. Thank you Lekha camp!!!
