MPitS - Willits High School

MPitS

Willits High School
2007/2008

Hello, little one,

Tell me your name.

Tell me your story, how you got here.

You are so much younger than I,

Yet I feel you know so much more.

What has your world been?

Have you lived through a war?

You live off this land;

You are one with it.

You know what surrounds you.

You know nothing of the world

And nothing of beauty yet

Even with all my schooling

You know so much more than I.

You know more of its harsh realities yet

You stand so tall

Throwing off nothing but beauty

Leaning against that wall.

You have no make-up and

Hardly enough clothes

Yet you are the definition of Beauty.

I hope that someday

Someone will save you from here and

You can come back years later

To teach them all,

To help them stand tall,

To give them a better life

Than many have now.

Looking at you I can see nothing but

Your understanding of it all.

Whitney Woodhouse
12th Grade, Willits High School
PJ Flowes, Poet Teacher

My Hands

Writing poems does not run in my family

Having these gifts is one in a million

This hand is down to earth writing poems

Hands, hands, they feel like they are marching

What makes you happy goes to the hand and writes

But fears are also in the hands you have

Fears that are in the hands seek upon what is in front

In whose eyes that are scared,

What`s there.

Jera Bemish
Willits High School
PJ Flowes, Poet Teacher

My Observation

I hear birds outside like people whistling.

I hear cars go by like a mob of angry bees.

I hear footsteps like angry giants, who hate school.

I hear trucks like frogs without water.

I hear the wind like a woman who rocks her baby to sleep.

I see grass as smooth as a green lake.

I see flowers reminding me of my grandma.

I see crushed leaves like broken hearts.

I see oak trees as tall and wide as a clawing bear.

I see ants as small as people in the universe.

I smell dirt like dry mud.

I smell air as clear as an ocean.

I smell grass like licorice.

I smell flowers like someone who loves.

I feel the coarse tree bark like a rough person`s skin.

I feel the leaves as soft as a rabbit.

I feel the stems as soft baby skin.

I feel like the butterfly; I can fly all day or night.

Ally Laughlin
Willits High School
PJ Flowes, Poet Teacher

Chrystal Marie

Chrystal

Lover of horses, funny, outgoing, curious

Daughter of Ruthie

Lover of my mom, brother, sister and friends

Who feels happy with life

Who finds happiness in my friends, family and animals

Who needs money, food, water and a house

Whose mother gives me the best life possible

Who fears spiders, sharks, heights and death

Who would like to see my children grow up.

Chrystal Bacci
Willits High School
PJ Flowes, Poet Teacher

Joe

Joe, Scotty

Funny, lazy, troublesome

Son of Debbie and Victor

Lover of mom and Mary Jane

Who feels like he is in love with a girl

Who needs money

Who gives smiles without getting money

Who would like to see New York

Who enjoys Mary Jane too much

Who likes to wear clean clothes

Resident of a small trailer

Far from New York

Joe Scott Theriault
Willits High School
PJ Flowes, Poet Teacher

Bullet Child

Hi, bullet child

If I could help you, I would

If my country has done something

I can`t help you

Are you good or bad?

Would you let me live or die?

I know I would let you die, or not

It is all in how you see me

As if I am your enemy

P.S. Don`t let my life end yours

Jesse Perez
Willits High School
PJ Flowes, Poet Teacher

Flowers In A Vase

A flower is meant to be a wild beauty

Not to sit on a table in a vase, waiting for its days to end

As its once beautiful petals fall to the ground

What do you think it would say if it could talk?

Do you think it would thank you as a petal falls from its face?

For taking it away from its home and its kin

I think it would be screaming, "Just End It Already!!!"

Jimmy Donaldson
Willits High School
PJ Flowes, Poet Teacher

Baseball

Bats swinging

A home run

Stolen bases

Excitement

   Balls flying

     A pop fly

Lots of laughter

Loud noises

       FUN

Greg Elliott
Willits High School
PJ Flowes, Poet Teacher

Observational Essay

I see: The grass growing green, the trees tall and proud, shading us from the blinding sun. the baseball field half mile long.

I smell: Nothing. No heavenly aromas or ghastly odors fill the air.

I hear: The leftover drops of the halted rain, hitting the ground from atop the trees. The birds singing songs of joy. The cars rushing past to a chosen destination.

I feel: The part harsh, cold of a winter gone. The wind, caressing me as if it were the one who loves me dearly.

I taste: The icy frost of the winter that was, the bittersweet of the spring that is, and the gentle spice of the summer that will be.

These are the things that I see and smell and hear and feel and taste and hate and love.

This is the world around me. This is my life. This is me.

Grant Blackwell
Willits High School
PJ Flowes, Poet Teacher

The Talking Hand

I might not have a mouth but if you watch me I can talk

When I shake I`m scared or excited

I sweat to show I am nervous

I am the hand with no mouth

But, I will talk if you just look down
Kasey Hollifield
Willits High School
PJ Flowes, Poet Teacher

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