There was a lot to discuss with this week’s timely selection, “End of April” by Phillis Levin. Unlike our prior poem, the language in this one is easy to understand—with one simile and one rhyme adorning the plainspoken text—though that doesn’t mean it’s ‘simple.’ The opening stanza, “Under a cherry tree / I found a robin’s egg / broken, but not shattered,” seems to present a concise summary of the poem; but the speaker then reveals, “I had been thinking of you,” which leads to the question: were they thinking of this other person before they discovered the egg, or did its discovery bring that unnamed person to mind? The distinction is important and affects how we read the poem overall. Its bulk describes looking inside the “perfect shell / except for the missing crown,” and we talked about literal meanings for the actions depicted as well as more metaphorical readings, which the final two stanzas especially invite, considering the tonal shift that occurs right beforehand.

Levin’s poem hinges on memories that (suddenly?) occur when confronted with a particular object—in this instance, the robin’s egg. For their own poems, the students were asked think of an object and the emotions (and possibly person or people) associated with it. Let’s explore some responses.

Ms. Kawa, 4th Grade

LEGOs Like Friendships
Mason B.

LEGOs are like friendships.

You build friends like you build

You destroy friendship like
you destroy LEGOs.

You have different friendships
like you have different LEGOs.

LEGOs are like friendships.

Hugo H.

Every time I see you
You lighten up my mood
Even if I’m happy
You grow that feeling on me
Even more

Your calm and content attitude
It makes me feel
A way
I can’t even say

You’re always happy
To see me
And all of us
No matter now long
We’ve been gone

No matter what happens
You’ll be in my heart
Until the end of time

Ayden J.

As I walk in my room I see
a goofy project my friend made with me
it’s 4 years old at this point
it’s crinkled and old, but this reminds me
of something bold.
A glaring friendship, oh not again.
At the end of camp we’ll never see each
other again.

Michael L.

A microwave.
Reminds me of food
makes it warm
gives me great
of food
food is my favorite
even a bird
eats food.
A microwave
oh microwave
so true,
it’s food.

My Picture of My Grampa
Kendall P.

my picture of my grampa
that reminds me of him and
I look at it every day
that’s the thing that
keeps me going
’cause I know
he would be
super proud of me.

Aaron S.

It punctures me
Everything deflates like air
Escaping from a balloon

I scream words
Silent, soundless, worthless.

I am a corpse, yet alive.
A scar, a memory of
What I was.

Andy V.

A rock
A million of them
And a person who has the same interest

Done by a future anime artist
Don’t think I can draw as perfectly

By a mistake
But made for an Angel

My Sister
Joy V.

Sitting, laying.
In my patch of grass.
Staring, sulking
at the stars so bright and
beautiful. My fingers climb up to my
neck. A pendant, engraved with “Ally”
in bright, bold letters. I reach up to my
neck, pull the pendant off. Click the
locket open, treasure it the most.
Memories flood, through my head, revealing my
dear sister. Kiara, laughing, splashing at the
beach. We laughed, we joked, happy as can be.
I pull the picture out of my locket, hold it to
my heart. I turn to put it back, it
floats up, up, and away. I claw at
it, chase after it, it is gone. Tears fall
down my cheeks, I sniffle, and run, sobbing,
to the beach. Angry tears fall quickly down
my face. I throw the locket, hard, it
sails out into the sea. I lie down, on the
sand, and fall asleep. The next morning,
something cold touches my fingertips. I
startle, sit up in astonishment. My locket!
I hold it close.
A piece of small, crinkled paper falls into
my open locket. Oh joy! My picture! What
a good day! Memories; they are good.

Ms. Ball, 4th Grade

Yazan A.

Ms. Ball gave me a pencil because I want
to do my work but I don’t have a pencil.

My mom gave me an iPad because all my friends
have iPads.

Real Story
Murad A.

My friends were making a
prank a cup of water
when I was asleep.

Donald D.

The scars on my hands and
arms remind me of friends.

The times we had rolling down
the hill.

Or Nerf with some deadly bullets
with some rabid hands.

All of the good still
the best times I’ve had.

Amari G.

My book is great just like you.
It is faded but colorful,
still very lovable.
It reminds me of when you gave it to me,
all the music and things in it.
The front has a spiral,
scratched and a cat,
but it does not melt in the heat.

My book is great, reminds me of you,
though it is covered in goo.
My book is great, really good.

Zhi Peng L.

I feel as my dog
Licks my hand
And it reminds me of my old dog
Didn’t even meet him yet
But he’s passed
And my new dog comforts me
It’s like he’s still there
I wish I could meet him
He chomps on a toy fish
The fish and the rod
I used to play with my grandpa
I enjoyed spending time with him too.

Pierre P.

My dog happy adorable
playing emerging snores
his name is Max

Mr. O’Brien, 4th Grade

Ethan K.

Asleep suddenly a dream a room with a window
the walls reek of death I open the door
a hallway of infinity emitting fear.

A footstep from everywhere as though coming towards
me until black the footsteps feel as though
behind me.

A Photo of Him
Benjamin L.

My grandpa died before I was born and I only saw
one photo of him in my life and have only heard of him

I can’t say much of him after all I never
met him

Akeim S.

Dear Cardi my dog
Cardi how are you?
Did you sleep,
did you eat?
How are you?
I’m kinda upset
I miss my family
school is too long and
I’m tired and I’m
ready to go home.

Kemira W.

Why did you leave me? I wish
you didn’t leave me because it
had been like the most good
friend to me, because I knew
you for nine years but
I will see you on my birthday.
Love you big brother from your sister

Mrs. Johnson, 4th Grade

You Are Everything
Raina D.

You live in my book, you live in my nook
you live in my hand, you live in a band
you live here, you live there, you live everywhere

Can you be here? Yes, there? Yes.
I guess you can live anywhere.
You can live in my palm, you are even in my lip balm.

You’re in swwiiirrrllllssss
you’re in quurriillll
you’re in peeaaarrrllllsss

you are in clay
you are in the month May
you are in ink
you are in pink
you are in the sky
you are starting to cry

you are sad, you are mad
you are happy, you are clappy
you are sleepy, you are leapy

I can show this, I can show that
I can show you everything
I can show you the world

Micah L.

School is over
time to have fun
laughing splashing
dashing to the pool
the sun is hot
playing and playing
sleeping and sleeping
travel and traveling
time flies by
you had so much fun
time to go to school
summer will come again
I guess, goodbye

Shorya M.

I like my cousins. They have
video games and a pool in the back
yard. They help me with everything.

I Remember, I Remember, the Start of September
Vijisha P.

I see a soft sweater.
Long nails.
Tons of meeting mails.

Warm, cozy sweaters
remind me of you.
Yes, you! Fussy, sassy, and
you wear sweaters every
day. You’ve been doing
that since May.

Roses are red
violets are blue.
I like you being you.

Lemons, sour, delicious
is what you say
everyday. Your way is my

Yellow, yellow, just
like mellow,
just like you.

Basketball Reminds Me of
Deven P.

Basketball reminds me of my
dad he brought me into basketball.

Basketball reminds me of
Michael Jordan.

Basketball reminds me
of my room.

Basketball reminds me of
my garage.

Basketball reminds me of

Basketball basketball.

Clyde S.

I go shopping and I see something
growing in my eyes it’s boring Harry Potter
stuff and it reminds me of Mrs. Johnson
but then I keep walking because it’s
boring. Then I see a Vector costume
reminds me of Keshaun. Then I see
basketballs it reminds me of Deven
and Blake. I see a hockey stick
reminds me of Aidan. I see Pokemon
cards reminds me of Harshil, Miles, Mil-
len, and Isaac. I see a panda reminds
me of Deven again. I see more
pandas then they all attack me. Now
I can’t trust Deven.



“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.