Kids Write at Ignite

Poem for the Creative Child

2011-02-27T21:44:00.001-08:00

Poem for the Creative Child

by Kathryn Haydon

Shimmering golden canopy

arching above

as you sail

back and forth

through the crisp autumn air

on your wooden airplane

strong arms stretched out

grasping tightly to rope

that transforms the old, discarded board

into magic,

lifting you up

above the world’s sorrow and sadness

turning your ear to the whispering leaves

that sing of innocence,

promise,

expectation.

the rope twists

and in a show

of childlike abandon

you whirl

with glee

enlacing life with strands of delight as

yellow shooting stars

loosened from the tree’s grasp

cascade to the carpet below.

I make a wish,

this moment

frozen in time,

you on your wooden swing

sailing,

wings stretched out

into forever.

Short Story by Sarah V.

2011-02-09T17:30:00.000-08:00

As I am walking into his room, I see a different color for every wall. Blue, green, purple, and yellow blind me as the sun’s shining rays come through the open window. To my left there is a bed with a happy face backboard and white sheets. The sheets look like one you would find in an army; neat enough to bounce a quarter off them. There is nothing else on his light-colored soft-wood floors. I can not say as much as for those walls. Pictures of him around the world border the middle as if it were a train. Posters of bands, events, and maps are scattered randomly here and there, but there is a bare spot. A door covers this bare spot, and I walk to the right side of the room. As I turn the spotless handle, and once I open it, I find clothes inside. Every color clothes you can imagine neatly folded into tiny cubicles labeled with the correct article. His shoes are covered in mud, though, hard-packed mud that covers the inner walls of the cubicle as well.

Ignite's Poem of the Month by Oliver

2011-01-31T01:32:00.000-08:00

The Bud Tree

It is a sunny day.
While the squirrels are running up the tree
The water is flowing in our direction
And the leaves are finally growing back and the houses are putting on their air conditioning.
The bushes are growing bushy
and the fish are flipping and flopping while people catch them.
The grass is moving back and forth while the breeze comes by.
The sky is growing blue.
The clouds are turning into white puffs of cotton.
The mountains are getting bumpier.

Oliver, Grade 4

2010-11-29T22:25:00.001-08:00

Congratulations to Ignite creative writing student Chance Lang, who won a third place award in the 2010 Torrance Legacy Creative Writing Awards for his poem "Space"! Chance was awarded third place for poetry in grades 6 through 8, selected from more than 350 submissions by students worldwide.

The Torrance Legacy Creative Writing Awards is an international creative writing competition, started in 2009 to honor Dr. E. Paul Torrance. Dr. Torrance is known throughout the world as the “father of creativity” and he dedicated his life’s energies toward developing ways to assess creativity in children and adults. His nearly 60 years of research has become the platform from which much of the research in the field of gifted education is based. Ignite will announce the topics and information for the 2011 contest as soon as it comes out.

Space by Chance Lang

2010-11-29T22:18:00.000-08:00

a huge ball of mass
a huge ball of black
with a circumference to high for man kind
capable to unleash unlimited colors
mixed together to make unimaginable shapes and size
able to make something seen from one million miles away
a talent with no limits
and a power that is not controlled
the creator of beauty and shape
creator of all elements
inventor of planets that give us life
and some our painful doom
able to make explosions out of nothing
and light with a temperature unimaginable
something that can create a color that can kill you
can create and destroy chaos
and make it beautiful
can create a shape that can transport anyone anywhere

transport through invisible portals
all in the blink of an eye
the mass that made all
the food we eat
the people we turned out to be
and more we don’t know of
also like a giant mystery
a mystery book that never ends
this device and the thing that has all knowledge is called space
space is everything we know
and what we don’t know yet
space was the beginning of all life
we need to keep what space started
keep earth strong and healthy
this is what will give us life
or take us to the end
this is space

as we don’t know it and
as we do

More Free Verse Poetry

2010-02-28T15:40:00.000-08:00

The Birds on A Cold Night

Cold night
The little birds huddle up close.
The birds, fluffy as a kitten.
Trying to keep warm,
the birds snuggle up on a branch.
The branch is small but no bird will fall,
Still trying to keep warm.

By Leila, Grade 3

The Star Tree

2010-02-09T15:53:00.001-08:00

A cold night
Tons of stars
Crisp, white snow
The tree is very cold
like an iceberg
The tree is wishing
for warmth in summer.

The tree is warm.
It has a golden shell
It glimmers like the sun
It has green leaves, perfect and crisp.
Birds flutter by as a snapping turtle
crawls out of its hole to lay its eggs.

By Leila, Grade 3

Response to "The Bird Tree" by Thomas Locker

2010-01-14T12:10:00.001-08:00

Black.
The tree has the mist.
Mysterious.
A scarecrow tree.
There is a pile of leaves under the tree.
It is autumn because birds are flying on and off the tree.
Hunter's paradise.

By Hayden, Sean, Jesse, and Marcus, Grades 3-5

Response to "The Bird Tree" by Thomas Locker

2010-01-13T16:08:00.000-08:00

It's misty.
Cloudy in the sky
A lot of birds on the branches
It has grass patches.
The tree is on a hill.
It has no leaves.
The bushes have no leaves.
There are leaves on the hill.
It's tall and beautiful.
It's the end of fall
and getting closer to winter.

By 2nd and 3rd graders - Oliver, William, Isabella, Alice, and Graciela

Response to "The Bird Tree" by Thomas Locker

2010-01-13T14:18:00.000-08:00

Hundreds of birds everywhere
Dissolving into the tree
Covering the bareness of the branches
A tree with no leaves that's growing new ones
Getting bigger and barren and more open
Reeds and birds sing together in chorus
The fog begins to stir
Winter comes and goes but
the birds stay on keeping the tree company,
like a blanket keeps you warm.

By Andrew, Chance, Christopher, Mitch, Sean, Spencer - Grades 6 & 7

Free Verse Poetry

2010-01-12T15:24:00.001-08:00

The Tree of Summer

There is a tree,
with a blue sky
and puffy clouds behind it
on a hill
In the deep blue river
fishes lurk
waiting endlessly.
There is a tree
in the summer
on a hill.

By Nolan, Grade 5

The Autumn Tree's Thoughts

I see fellow trees behind me.
All of our leaves are oranger than pumpkins.
Squirrels are bustling under me.
I see a river
that's clearer than crystal.
I think a storm is coming.

By Isaac, Grade 4

Response to "The Violet Tree"

2010-01-12T15:16:00.000-08:00

Looks like its leaves are darkness
An opening in the clouds
The tree has dark coloring.
The river is flowing.
There are lots of tules by the river.
Ice on the edge of the river
There are black as night mountains in the background.

By Nolan and Isaac, Grades 5 and 4

Response to "An Alchemist" by Adriaen van Ostade (1600s)

2009-12-16T16:33:00.000-08:00

I feel very tired.
The smoke is blowing in my face.
I am very sad to do all this work.
My arms are getting tired
because I keep going
up and down
up and down
up and down
with my bellows.
My tummy is gurgling of hunger
because I'm poor.
But if I keep doing my work
I can earn money for another meal.

By Oliver, Angeliese, and Alice

Mysteries of Harris Burdick

2009-12-09T16:39:00.000-08:00

One day I went to the pumpkin patch. I picked one in the very back. And when I took it home it started glowing. I got a knife and slowly and carefully got it open. Inside of it were glowing seeds brighter than the sun. I was afraid of what was going to happen if I told my parents so I didn't. Then I took the pumpkin and threw it in the garbage. Then it blew up and the pumpkin was still there. It was perfectly new.

By Oliver, Grade 3

The Third Floor Bedroom

It all began when someone left the window open. I see doves flying off the wallpaper. It is a magic room and the best part of all the magic was the curtains. They were magic and someone climbed in the room and vanished in the wind. Five minutes later he was falling 15,000 feet from the building to the ground and I would not do that because it is scary and it is Halloween.

By Angeliese, Grade 3

Tree Poetry

2009-12-09T16:32:00.001-08:00

It has some thick clouds and some thin clouds.
It has large mouontains.
It has colors of purple, pink, red, yellow, and gold.
It is a beach.
The water is colorful because the reflection.
It has sea water.
It is sunset!
Let's go home,
It is getting dark.

By Lillian, Grade 2

A breeze is blowing in my branches.
A soft summer breeze.
It makes a whistling noise in my branches.
The clouds are thin and don't look as soft as some days.
Are they hard?
No, just don't look soft is all.
The water has a ripple, a large one.
I am getting cold, and evening is coming.
I must think about dinner.

By Cheyn, Grade 3

Response to "The Sunset Tree"
The water is moving.
The grass is wiggling.
It's the yellowish, reddish sunset,
Dark and red lika a tomato.
The tree is swishing back and forth because of the wind.
The mountains are purple like a plum.
It will all be gone because the sun is going down.

By Oliver, Grade 3

Student Podcast: The History of Flight

2009-12-07T22:32:00.000-08:00

Michael, a sixth-grader, has an astounding and constantly growing wealth of knowledge about planes, flight, and aerodynamics. He is especially interested in fighter planes of World War II, up to the present and into the future. Michael's fascination with planes in contagious, and this fall we developed a plan to share it. He worked diligently organizing, discussing, researching, synthesizing, and creating this podcast on the history of flight, right down to editing the sound file. We hope that you learn something new and get excited about the possibilities of flight yourself!

LISTEN HERE:

Art Inspires Poetry Inspires Art Inspires Poetry . . .

2009-12-02T22:17:00.000-08:00

Have you ever thought about what inspires people to write? Beautiful artwork has been an inspiration for many, many writers over time. Today at Ignite, our Creative Writing class wrote free verse poetry as a response to Monet's painting "The Poppy Field." Then, we painted our own watercolor pictures and wrote free verse poetry in response to our own art. Here's the poem we wrote together:

Response to Monet’s “The Poppy Field”

There is a field.
The poppies and the sky are bright.
There are four people walking.
There is a building way, way in the back.
You can smell the flowers’ sweet scents.
You can hear the field whishing through the wind. The bushes are like a horizon.
The clouds in the sky are like big, poufy cotton balls.

-Group poem written by 2nd and 3rd graders Oliver, Angeliese, Lillian, Alice, and Arianna

Nature Poetry

2009-11-17T18:13:00.000-08:00

June
The sunset makes the sea look like blood,
part of the sky day
part of it at night
The mountains dark
and forbidding against
all the colors of the sky
makes me wonder, what
lurks there under the cover of darkness?
Mitch, grade 7

Hills

Despite what I have been told,
hills do not just roll,
they sway
and shake
and whisper.
They whisper things
that you can only hear if you listen.
Madi, grade 7

For the gods
big to small
or maybe a series of rivers
Divided by cotton
Meandering back and forth
Ultimately flowing towards something,
an ocean of sky.
Sean, grade 7

November 2009

From above I see the tip
2 points of ice floating on the water
never coming together,
never floating apart.
But when I go under
the cold water I see
it's all connected
and larger than before
for there's something hidden,
if you dare to look.
Andrew, grade 7

Poems, stories, and responses by kids

2009-11-17T17:46:00.000-08:00

Responses to Van Gogh's Artwork

Vincent's Chair with his Pipe

Where is my pipe? Where is my pipe?!
I know I brought it with me!
Didn't I?
I set it on the chair,
But did I ever pick it up?
Yes, I'm sure I did.
I picked it up right before I left.
Didn't I?

My Garden

In my garden,
everything is peaceful.
In my garden,
nothing moves.
In my garden,
the flowers grow up, and the roots grow down.
In my garden,
It is completely, totally silent.
In my garden.

The Perfectionist

I drink a glass of tea
and set it down.
Exactly 7 inches from the pitcher,
no more, no less.
I halfway close the window,
so a gentle breeze blows through,
no greater than the breath of a fly.
I straighten a picture,
more,
more,
too much!
Back a little.
Perfect.
I lay in bed, and pull the covers right below my neck.
I set my alarm clock to 7:32 A.M. sharp!
and gently fall asleep.
-Andrew, grade 7

Hospital at Saint-Remy
Lots of trees
at a hospital.
People walking,
in a hurry.
Where are they going?
Windows everywhere and a door
in the middle of a forest.
Sean, grade 7

The Starry Night, 1889

The wind swirls around itself in confusion,
the grass getting taller and taller, reaching up into the wind's confusion.
The churches spire does not go nearly as high as the grass that obscures almost half of my vision.
The sun is filling the rest of the moon as they meet in the sky.
But yet there us light coming from the side of the sky that seems to have no source
as it forms the exact shape of the hills.

Irises, 1889

They look like a huge jungle, proud and tall
with so many fearsome and gentle beasts.
Insects, tigers, gazelles and many others live in harmony in this great jungle.
They have flowers and plants that are found nowhere else in the world,
and yet no human has ever been there,
How can this be?
Mitch, grade 7

From the perspective of William Carlos William's notebook

2009-11-10T19:35:00.000-08:00

Willie is wearing me to tatters! I wish he would put down the pen for at least a second. My pages are frayed, and my spine, my elegant, leather spine, is split! I'm being pulled apart. Well, at least I have something beautiful on me permanently. This writing on my paper is strange, no rhythm at all, but oddly enchanting.

So much depends

on the red wheelbarrow

glazed with rain water

beside the white chickens.

Music to my three-hole punched ears!

Today, though, Willie died, an old man of 79.

If I had eyes, there would definitely be tears. Now I am

just a worthless notebook, locked in a drawer, but I will always have those magical words.

-Natalie, grade 6

Response to: Garden of Earthly Delights, a painting by Hieronymus Bosch

2009-11-10T19:20:00.000-08:00

As I sit
in the dark, sea-green pool of wonder
I try to relax
But it is difficult, considering
that naked nymphs are running
around my head and men are riding pigs.
I sigh a pitiful sigh.
I cannot think with these distractions.
I trudge to my blue, cloud forest home,
with brass horns jutting out every which way
I pull on my favorite cozy robe.
I'm happy to be clothed.
Those naked people have no idea what they're missing.

-by Natalie, grade 6

You can see the original painting here:
http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:GardenED.jpg

Rice Krispie Thunder

2009-11-10T17:23:00.000-08:00

BOOM!
CRASH!
Powerful streaks hit the sky
Endless
Cascading
Transpiring
BOOM!
CRASH!
Crooked
Shocking
The invading serpents of light are striking
Just waiting...
Waiting...
BOOM!
A smell of burnt, crispy toast is in the air...
There are SNAPS, CRACKLES, AND POPS!
Rice Krispie Thunder is coming.

-By Natalie, grade 6

Welcome to Kids Write!

2009-11-03T14:16:00.000-08:00

At Ignite Creative Learning Studio, kids are inspired every day to write from the heart, explore ideas, and express themselves. Kids Write is a place where they can share their thoughts, poems, stories, podcasts, inventions, and photos with the world.

Please check back soon to hear from kids in their own words . . .