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.
