Story Time

Ms. Widman

High School Creative Writing

This week the Viking writers read Marie Howe’s “Gretel, From A Sudden Clearing” and “My Mother Believes in My Marriage and this Shows Me Her Heart Can Forgive Even Years Spent Dancing Alone” by Kayleb Rae Candrilli. The young poets were then tasked with writing a poem inspired by a fairy tale or a family memory. I am so proud to publish the poets below!

“Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, from Nag’s Point of View” 

By Scott M.

Generations we have lived here

invaded by humans, now a mongoose shows,

destroying what once was ours,

destroying my family.

It wasn’t enough to murder a helpless parent,

scavenging to feed their children.

The monsters kill my husband.

“Pied Piper”

By Elijah K.

Hamelin was asleep town

haunted by the squeaks of rats.

The town was desperate

for a solution.

When I strolled into town

I promised to play my song

and rid the town of the pests.

That I did. I play a squeaky

awful song.

I lead the rats to the river.

They promised to pay me

but that was broken.

So I played another song

and took their children away.

“Fun In The Sun”

by Heather S.

The beaming hot sun Florida sun shines on my shoulders.

Applying sunscreen once or twice.

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” I thought.

But before the sun had set that day,

I spent the sunny, hot day on refreshing waterslides.

I felt the sun burning my skin through.

My pale skin cooking like pancakes on a steaming, hot pan.

“Oh, I was wrong.” I thought.

Returning to the hotel, my skin was red as raw steak.

With one small touch I was screaming OW!

Sleeping was a nightmare that night.

As I tossed and turned, my skin screamed at me to stop.

I didn’t sleep that night.

But our flight was the next morning. 

My “fun in the sun” wasn’t what I expected.

“Young Thoughts”

By Joey W.

Way back then, I would

at what costs,

the loud creek, the door,

adrenaline casting, my body

freedom, silence.

Everything is still.

Buildings surrounding us,

blring blring

on bikes, we went

woosh! Woosh!

Waves smacking against the rocks.


“Desperate for the Exit”

by Fabian H.

On the road to a cabin looking like a chuckhouse

from heavy traffic to a crazy drag

we finally arrive.

The deck built for crows like a crowbait.

The trees shearing and ripping apart

wandering beyond the limits

making me a bearbait

on the search for a clear road

to paddle on.

Desperate to find the way back

with horror–the comeback road is ahead. 



“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.