Julian Curtiss School 2nd Grade Poets


	Julian Curtiss School 1st Grade Poets

	I am the sound of many instruments playing a song, of waves washing up from the sea, of tears. I am the sound of a ballerina leaping, of many people talking, of a stamp, stamping paper. I am the sound of a wolf howling at night…awhoooooooo! by Mrs. Kovac’s class Sad… is blue like tears when you fall off your bike and scrape your knees, blue like the sky. It is green like grass in the graveyard, gold like a golden retriever that has died, like an already eaten golden apple, like a dragon. It is black like night, like bats, like a stone thrown into a lake. It happens when your grandma dies. It sounds like crying, wawawa and tastes salty like tears. Sad… by Mrs. Kovac’s class Happy… is read like a bird, like a rose on your birthday, like an apple hanging from a tree. It is yellow like the sun rising in the sky, like a field full of daisies. It is orange like a smiley shirt I wear, like the stripe on a tiger, like a peeled orange. It happens when you’re having a birthday party. It smells like pepperoni pizza and tastes like mint chocolate chip ice cream shared with friends. Happy… by Mrs. Kovac’s class

	Red… bananas, suma wrestlers, blood, wet paint on paper, a rose in a vase, a fresh juicy apple ready to be eaten, red aliens at Julian Curtiss School. Red sounds like a tambourine shaking, like an apple falling from a tree – boom! It is loud like a lion’s roar. Red feels hard like a rock, like a wooden door, like a ruby in a necklace. It smells like perfume on a poet, like a poop from my puppy, like garbage. If red could it would turn cartwheels, it would change into a Barbie, it would erase this poem. Red! Miss Scibelli’s class Blue… is the color of sky, the slide on the playground, a lunchbox with a moldy cheese sandwich inside, a blue man drinking Yahoo. It sounds like blue jays singing – chirrrrp, chirrrrp, like beetles clicking – clickkkkkk, clickkkkkk, like a violin playing a sad song. It tastes like raspberry ice cream, like sour warheads, like paper with lots of words and feels sticky like chewed bubble gum, rough like sandpaper, squishy like a blueberry under my shoe, bendy like rubber. Blue could ride a bicycle. it could turn into a cloud, into a daisy, into anything it wants to. Blue! Miss Scibelli’s class

	Green… like leaves on trees and elephants, like pond scum and frogs, like a green crayon. Green smells like apples, like a lime magic marker, like fresh mown grass, a fresh baked pie. Green sounds like thunder, like the wind blowing through the trees, like snow falling. Green could be a frog leaping on a lily pad, it could run, it could fall off a bike, it could camouflage itself into a bush. Green could grow up to be a man. Green! Miss Sotos class Pink… is a field of tulips, a pillow, a pineapple ice cream cone. It sounds like p-p-p, the wind blowing, a flute blowing. It feels soft like a blanket, mushy like goo, smooth as a pig and it tastes disgusting like perfume or a stinky sock, yummy like strawberry jello or an apple pie. Pink would color a picture pink, it would take a bubble bath, it would hula dance. Pink! Miss Sotos class
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