A Special Gift (8th Grade)

In Ms. Krasic’s class, we read Pablo Neruda’s “Ode to My Socks.” The students pointed out how wild and surprising his imagery was and how the socks seemed to transform his humble feet. We wrote poems about a special gift we’ve received. We thought about last week’s lesson and wrote about what senses the gift reminded us of and what metaphors and similes could emerge from those memories. They wrote such beautiful poems!



A hand

delicately cuts and mixes.

It pours and stirs.

It steams and heats.

It cools and serves.


A prize a gift

a golden metal.

An aroma with no equal.

A taste like no other.


It glows with perfection.

Each grain an art piece

and each better than the last.

Taste so plentiful

eat until full.


Ode to My Old Pen


My pen is a

tall tower among

the others, it creates a

dark room with a

little book in the middle.


The sound of

wrinkling paper rings

in my hand

and the strokes of

black thunder popping

from each stroke.


The fresh smell of books and

paper appears when

I open the pen.


While the odd

taste of stale

chips comes to mind

while I write.


Great Grandma’s Soup



I love her very much,

my great grandma.

The soup she always

makes reminds me we’re

all okay.

She lowers the

tv that’s blasting

church and has us sit

at the table with her.

The soup she

always makes

sits on the table

when she pulls us in an



The humble and

warm scent of church

bread and olive oil

fills the air.

My family and I

walk into my

Great Grandma’s


The sky is filled

with diamonds or stars

when we arrive.




“Writing poetry makes me feel like I can see myself, like I can see my reflection, but not in a mirror, in the world. I write and I know I can be reflected.”
-Oscar S.

“Writing poetry makes me feel free.”
-Buenda D.

“Writing poetry is like your best friend.”
-Jessica M.