The Odes:
You are a tarnished piece of leather
And have endured harsh weather.
Very long you've stayed inside
I begin to wonder if you've died.
But you always manage to prove
You can put me back in my baseball groove.
You catch all the balls
Listen to the umpire as he calls
Out!
Because with you there's no doubt.
--Jack W.
(Saint Ann's 6th)
Ode
on the Bay
It gently
Laps against the
Sand, as if trying to
Climb to shore
With no success.
It gropes
Higher and
Higher as the
Day goes on.
But at night
It falls back
Out to
Sea.
--David F.-R.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
Ode
to the Beach
I feel the sand trickle through my fingers,
The waves lap at my feet,
A sunset is beginning, starting to get pink,
A classic sand-castle,
Toddlers are dancing around,
Laughing and giggling.
That’s why I love to go to the Beach!
--Holly T.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
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Ode
To Bed
The bed, mother of sleep,
wife to the sandman, father
of sleep. As I arrive from
a long, grueling day, I look
to the mother of sleep and
fall into her arms,
a limp leaf.
There is no other
place I would rather be,
than in her loving, caring
grasp. She enriches my body
with the potion of sleep.
She charges my energy battery.
She is the sanctuary of strength.
Ode, to bed, mother of sleep.
Domenic M.
`
HM 6th
Ode to the Bed
A hidden meaning lies behind the bed.
A bed is a cloud floating into heaven.
During the night,
as a person lays in bed,
they dream wonderful dreams.
The bed carries them into the magical world
of our dreams.
It is like a plane,
flying us into a deep,
deep sleep.
Even during our worst nightmares,
the bed is always there protecting us,
from the world outside the dream.
As the dream or nightmare ends,
the bed is like a plane,
waiting for the passenger to get back on,
and allow it to take them back into the real world.
When we wake up,
the bed is there.
Surrounding the exhausted passenger in its comfort
With it’s bouncy mattress, soft purple sheets, and down-feather pillow.
Waiting for another night of deep sleep.
Isis B-L.
HM 6th
Ode to my Bed
My place of rest, my
bed
My sanctum-sanctorum,
Is a fantastic place
With puffy sky printed sheets
And thousands upon thousands
Of warm extra covers.
You take me off to dreamland,
Drift me away to a far away land,
You guard me from those horrible
Monsters under you.
--Anna F.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
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Ode to a Cat
We go from one shadowy corner to the
next.
We hide our faces from the miserable, dog eat cat, crime-ridden world.
Only one creature can truly match this… the cat.
Our cats fear one and all.
Have you noticed your cat hides in closets?
Have you noticed your cat runs away every time someone enters the room?
They hide their faces from the dog eat cat world.
We hold each other when we are
scared.
Cats snuggle with us when the nights are bleak.
They stick their cold pink noses in our ears to cheer us up.
When your cat shivers like it’s on a glacier you stroke it back to
sleep.
Curiously, we can stand up for each other but not ourselves.
Winta Z.
HM 6th
Ode to the Computer
You open and WELCOME boldly appears
and without mouthing a word, you ask who I am.
My fingers tip, tap a secret that you don’t hear
but understand and never tell a soul,
then simply forget.
You invite me into your house
and show me your rooms
that I can add to or change
and call my own.
You don’t demand a cent,
and have not a thing to hide
You are silver-plated,
with lettered plastic jewels.
When I look through the window it is wide and bright
full of color.
When you get sick,
I am sad because you may not get better.
There is no medicine,
only pills to take before.
That are best by Norton anti-virus.
When you get better,
I have a fear that your house is a big mess,
so everything must be thrown out…
and your life will start again.
Your many rooms bring mysteries.
Your wardrobe in the chamber
that I can enter different worlds through,
feeds my imagination.
The large trash will hold all,
but will never be taken out.
I can take things out and they are as good as new.
In another room you let me write as I wish,
with an endless paper supply.
I am sad that one day you will die,
because one day your battery will run out
you will not replenish.
Sarah S.
HM 6th
Ode to the Dictionary
What helps you find
any word you want and tells
what it means? Imagine life without
it, not being able to
help yourself learn what
a word means.
I’m reading a book
but approach a word I don’t know
so I skim the dictionary for it.
The dictionary is a
teacher,
that helps you with reading.
With the dictionary at my side, I know every word
in the English language.
The dictionary keeps up with language
always changing with the world
Now the written dictionary is in the past
Replaced with electronic dictionaries online
as keyboard replaces pens and pencils,
as the future replaces the past.
The never ending amount
of pages, makes me think
about the masses of words
that exist. It upsets me that I know less than half
of the words on each page, but I enjoy knowing that
there are always more words to learn.
As I look up a word I examine the other words on the page
surprised by knowing only five or six
The dictionary prepares students
for school, while helping adults
at work. When you need a great deal of vocabulary
for a application the dictionary is there to help you.
Its many pages and words
make me wonder how dictionary writers
remember
all of those words
and have the exact definitions.
Ryan Y.
HM 6th
Ode to My Little Friend
Malonnie, faithful friend. companion,
loyal to time’s end.
Friendly, gentle, never biting,
Not a growl or complaint do I hear.
Quiet as the night until you find life’s mystery,
then you stand up on hind legs
and walk
towards me,
a tottering old man so small and white.
Jump up, jump
down, at even the smallest noise.
Little spots of light brown cover your soft coat
with hair, soft as a brand new silk pillow.
You try to intimidate Gia, your friend,
to show you are master, but Gia sees your threats
as childish games.
When you are hungry, you’ll bark
a plea for attention, “feed” me you’d say, if you could talk.
When your begging is not enough
you grab my hand in your mouth, and pull me
pull me, drag me, take me, show me, “meal,” you say.
Into the kitchen you lead me as if on a leash
to show me your empty bowl.
No food or water
You shake your head as if in disbelief, moaning, groaning,
you let me know I’ve let you down,
suddenly…
when I turn to open the cupboard where your tasty morsels
of food are waiting, waiting,
up and down, up and down you jump
with delight! Once more you are happy. With a lick
then another and another, you let me know
all is forgiven.
Justin C.
HM 6th
Ode to the Eraser
Erasers are like parents.
They correct my mistakes, and
Right my wrongdoings,
Yet they are also like spies, watching my every move.
Bump! The eraser thumps against the paper.
The spy sprints across the paper,
Adjusting my every mistake.
Oh eraser,
Your intelligence brings all of us together,
Correcting each other’s mistakes.
A gong sounds off in my head every time I err when writing.
Oh eraser,
Your wisdom teaches me caution.
Oh eraser,
Your advice educates me until I am
Graduated from pencil,
To pen.
Steven H.
HM 6th
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Ode to French Fries
Eaten now and then,
you are the treat that
I would choose over any other
When I taste you
the mixture of salt and
potatoes is perfect
It fills my mouth with
the food
of angels, coats my
lips with unforgettable
flavor and burns a message
into my mind to come back for you
the cycle repeats when ever
I eat the food that never
goes unloved
the side dish that’s earned
a grand reputation
the snack that fights
for its dignity and
stands out in the crowd
with its golden scintillating
outer skin
and inside filled with soft
fluffy bliss
Ashley R.
HM 6th
Ode
to a Fridge
Oh, your smooth, silver, reflective texture
with two opening doors which lead to two
cool spaces.
The top door, although smaller than the bottom
is colder:
perfect temperature for ice cream and other stuff.
The bottom
hitting the temperature for
my bananas and… greens.
--Casey M.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Ode to the Garbage Man
The man grabbed the black garbage bag
And threw it into the truck.
The cars, their way blocked,
Honked their horns.
He was under-appreciated, even hated by some,
But he worked on.
He could have left the streets to pile up with dirt,
But he didn’t.
Working almost 24.7, no time to see his family,
But he goes on still.
No one cares about his work, his name;
We don’t understand how hard it is,
But still, he grabs the black garbage bag
And throws it into the truck.
The cars, their way blocked,
Honk their horns.
India E.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Ode to My iPod
When you came home with dad after he won you in a raffle
I knew I had to convince him to give you to me.
Finally the day came
when I won the bet that I could go a week without mentioning
the word “Nano.”
He had to hand you over to me and I became the
happiest boy on the face of the Earth.
As I select songs to fill up your memory,
my ears impatiently desire music.
You are like a dollar bill,
able to fit into any pocket no matter how small.
Rap, rock and R&B live inside you,
like M&M’s in a pretty package.
On the bus I listen to “Must be the Money,” “Guns and Roses,” and “Get Exed,”
My favorite sounds secretly secured in a small safe.
Ian A., HM 6th
Ode
to Abraham Lincoln
Thank you number sixteen,
You are very keen.
You knew slavery needed to be abolished
Or the U.S. would be demolished.
You have a nice top hat,
On our pennies you have sat
Watching our country
As it burns.
Will it be too late before it learns?
--Jack W.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Ode on Murder Mysteries
They’re creepy and scary and
you don’t want to put them
down.
Bloody and gross
but you still
don’t want
to
put them
down. Why is
this, you ask; is it
because it’s a
Murder
and you want to know who
dies…
--Olivia G.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
My pencil
Pours my emotions onto pieces of paper
My pencil
Sits with me through all my classes
And
Learns everything I do
My homework frustrations suddenly shatter
The sleekly sharpened point…
My pencil and I
Hold each other tightly
While subtracting negative 8 and positive 2
Giving me the correct answer
Negative 10
My pencil’s feminine side Draws fashion figures, shows the exact
Curves and
Waves of the fabric
My pencil’s masculine side
Keeps track of bets
Who will win, the Sea Hawks or the Steelers
Maya E.
HM 6th
Pencils,
praising pencils
with beautiful pink
erasers,
bright black tips,
gold or silver at the end,
writing on the side,
lovely pencils
You skate across
lines and lines
leaving stories and poems
behind in your trail.
Other times
important plans
trail lines and lines
praising a pencil
--Mai Li G.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
Ode to a Pencil
You take me
everywhere
all
around
the school.
So loyal
So kind
Write on
and
on will you
ever stop?
Finally you get
really
small,
so small
you
stop.
But
I’ll
still
remember you, all the poems stories, everything you
wrote.
--Emmy B.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
Ode to my Pencil
My pencil resembles
my mind.
When it’s dull, my mind is dull.
When it’s sharp, I’m sharp,
and then there’s everything in between.
And, let’s not forget the eraser.
Its indescribable pink color,
with traces of dark grey marks,
taking care of all my mistakes.
The beauty of this tool,
although it may seem unapparent to you,
is the fact that
it lets us pass on,
carry around,
the wonderful English language.
--Gussie R.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
Ode to a Pigeon in the
Window
I sit in class,
tapping my pencil on the desk
when suddenly a pigeon
perches on the window ledge.
It stares at me with one red, round eye,
flaps its gray-black wings
to fly away and venture
again.
--Gussie R.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
Ode
to the Point
The white gate opens and the air smells
different
it smells like summer
wet and bluish green
more green than blue
wet
wet like a drop of water on
a leaf or in the
grass,
wet like grass stained into the knees of my pants
the lilies
orange
red and yellow and coral and
purple
the brick wall
on
the other side is wet grass
and flowers
wet flowers
and we pull up and
stop
the door opens and I
jump at the delicious
air
and I have to sprint
I sprint up the road and into
the door
and there are
people
people there
and I greet them
enthusiastically.
Then I race away down to the
beach
with its pale brown
red,
sand
and I jump
jump down into the sand
and I feel the sand
under my
feet.
--Justin H.
(Saint Ann’s 7th)
Ode
to Saint Ann's
Smiling faces
All people are happy
Innocent faces
Never mean
Togetherness
All
New faces
Never go away
Stay here forever!
Special
Community. A second
Home in some ways.
One of a kind. The
One and only. I
Love my school.
--Eliza C.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
Ode
to Soap
Soap,
You make the world
Smell good again.
You refresh our bodies and minds,
Save our noses
From torture,
And you make sure that we are clean.
With your powerful,
Refreshing aroma
Like bubbles
And cake,
You wake me up in the morning.
And with a softer fragrance,
Like moonlight
And honey,
You lull me to sleep
At night.
You are the rays
Of sunshine
On a rainy, smelly day
And a gust of wind
That blows away the smog
You rid us
Of dirt and smell
So that we can
Shine our brightest.
Alexis-Brianna F.
HM 6th
Ode
to Sneakers
Pounding on the sidewalk
A pair of sneakers gleefully gallops homeward from a
Sweaty day in the park.
Messy laces slap against the side of the shoe
S the pair of shoes runs home
Along with many other pairs
The shoe sniffs around
The shoe wiffs a cigarette
The smoke wafts upward
The old shoes run home
They splash into a puddle
They start drowning
They slide onto the curb
The sneakers run run run home
The shoes are alive!
The pair of sneakers is
Glad to be alive
But they smell putrid
--Elizabeth P.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Back to Top
Never do I give you thanks for your warmth
or your protection from the cold.
Nor do I ever stop to think
about how you are always there.
You are just sitting on my bedroom
floor just sitting
wait-
ing waiting waiting
for someone to see you or realize
your worth and place you gently,
with care on in the laundry
so you may be washed, clean and rid of the bad smell.
Then you will be returned
to my drawer wait-
ing waiting waiting
to be picked up and put on
my feet and worn for the day.
I take you off all sweaty and smelly
and throw you carelessly
onto the floor till you are picked up again.
But never do I appreciate you for your warmth
and protection, nor do I thank you for the great
protection you give me from the
cold.
Nick W.
HM 6th
Ode to
Summer
Birds sing.
Warm breeze
Cold drinks.
Oceans.
Seas.
Sunshine.
Joy.
Happiness.
Green grass.
Freedom.
Clouds.
Journeys.
I wish summer would never end.
--Eliza C.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
Ode to a Toothbrush
Your most mischievous charge,
the molars,
purposely hide corn kernels
to be the spectator
as you hunt them down.
Infuriated by the four canines
for thanking the toothpaste
for washing them down,
you scrub
while the toothpaste sits and enjoys
the ride you provide.
And just as you think the worst has arrived
when another giggly incisor
makes its debut,
a big, metal appliance
squeezes its way between two molars.
And now your bristles can’t fit
in that tiny space left!
So your rival,
that short skinny wire
with it’s tiny white bristles,
approaches and gets all the praise
as he picks out one tiny bit of bread.
As the night drama seems to draw an end
the molars beg for you not to bask
in the light of the bathroom.
A back molar clings to you,
the jerking and tugging and wrenching
hustles you around.
You finally extract your last bristles
and you lay
in the slushy mess of left over toothpaste.
You sigh as the night ages onwards
relieved the day’s babysitting has ceased
and you’re already dreaming
of how to make the molars smile tomorrow.
Gillian M-L.
HM 6th
Ode to Watches
Ding
Ding
Ding
Goes my alarm
Like 1000 church bells ringing
I thank the mighty creator of watches
for the time piece on my wrist.
It never leaves my side
Keeping me going
from place to place
Keeping me on time as I move
along my day.
My watch tells me the date
and my plans for each day.
Ding
Ding
Ding
“Oh, it is 12:00
I am off to lunch”
Ethan C.
HM 6th
Ode
to Water
water is the greatest, it gets you all
clean.
water also lets the world live and
water
also lets you swim and do cannon balls.
Oh!
water is so great!
--Olivia Guerrieri
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
Ode
to a Watermelon
Watermelon’s
seeds
talking
to
you
their
little
eyes
watching
you
as
you devour
them
your lips
touching
the
juicy
watermelon
spitting
out
the
seeds.
--Emmy B.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
Wind
Oh wind who provides a gentle breeze,
Even on the harshest of days,
Oh wind who whips up a storm
On the most violent of days,
Oh wind you show the world who’s boss,
Gently blowing on our faces,
Who can match the power of the wind?
No one can because humans are at the mercy of
The wind.
--Gideon N.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Response to Ode to
My Baseball Glove by Jack W.
Ode to a Baseball Glove
The fur inside you is
like the fur on a coat made
of soft, soft tiger. And how you
are so perfectly shaped. The moment I
saw you at Paragon, I knew
that I had to catch baseballs
with you. Your goldeness is like
George Steinbrenner’s eyes
when the Yankees win the World Series.
When a ball comes to you,
I do not have to fear because I know,
I know that you will catch the ball.
Whether it’s a line drive, pop fly or
grounder,
I know that the ball will fit into your
web. The black on your outside is
like the beautiful camouflage
on a panther.
As I oil you more and more
you close on the ball faster,
faster and harder. You squeeze the
ball like a snake squeezes its prey.
—Ian A., HM 6th
Response to
Ode on the Bay by David F-R.
Ode on the Bay
The water touches my feet,
Making prints into the sand.
I lift a foot and the sand slides
Down into the water.
Yelling out,
“Help me! Help me!
I feel nothing as I close my eyes
Letting myself be taken in by the sun.
I look out and see a mirror reflection
The bay doesn’t control herself
But she is free, and moves as she wishes.
I wish that could be me,
with no control only relaxation.
I then see the error in my thinking,
The bay is controlled while I am not.
Moving back and forth
Forced to capture the sand like Nazis.
Wishing to be a flowing river.
The moon holding
The strings of the bay’s future
The moon is cackling,
Like a hyena playing with its prey.
When the moon sleeps the bay tries to escape
But cannot succeed
Because there is too much sand to
Capture, overtake, or pass.
Full of grief she turns back knowing
That there is no hope for her.
—Sarah S., HM 6th
Response to Ode to
the Beach by Holly T.
Ode to Beaches
The soft towel
awaiting me
as I run
carefree
away from
the delightful waves
crashing
tumbling
destroying
the large
sand castle that was
big enough to fit in
the sand comforting
my feet as
the sun slowly
fries me
until I am as
tan as a lobster
I will have for dinner.
The super soaker
blasts water, earning my friend
a wrestling match.
—Ethan C., HM 6th
The mother
The bed
The father
The sandman
The child
Sleep
Each morph
Into each other
And back again
Into the delusional
Child
Sleep
She changes
The bed
Into the bed
To become one
With his wife
And his child
The sandman morphs
And back again.
--Leni N.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
Ode to Bed
Back from a long day of school
I walk up to my room and hop in the covers.
As soon as my head hits the pillow,
I fall asleep, my head sinking farther and farther
Into the soft pillow.
All the pains in my back go away…
Carrying my worries with them.
--Holly T.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
Ode to Sleep
The grey ceiling staring down at me
Playing games on my eyes,
As I watch the flickering shadows
Flat against the fading plaster
Like dancers on night time grass.
Leaping a swaying,
No worries of cares,
Just them and my soft pillow
As I melt into sleep.
--India E.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Response
to Ode to the Bed by Isis B-L. ,HM 6th
almost dreaming
the bed is more than an object
it is an arc
a port
a resting ground of imagination
the art of sleeping
the secrets of visions anon
twisted panoramic views of light
though our rooms are engorged,
sunk in night
our aerial views of the anatomy of life
illuminating not just our eyes
but everything
and though we twist, and move,
the bed too
moves with us
--Mikela S.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Response to Ode to
My Bed by Anna F.
Ode to My Bed
My place of sleep and relaxation,
You wait there through an endless day,
waiting for sundown.
Finally upon my arrival,
Not caring if I am dirty or clean
You make room for me so I am warm.
Through the night I toss and turn,
Nevertheless, you do not care but let me do as I please.
The fairy print covers are my last sight,
As I drift off into dream world with nothing to turn me back.
You provide comfort and sanctuary as I toss and turn,
From wild dreams such as shopping,
Or swimming from sharks.
Your wooden arms make sure I don’t fall.
Sadly t he sun eventually wakes me up and I am sad,
Knowing that I will leave you again,
Nevertheless, I leave with a smile on my face,
Knowing that you will be waiting in my room
At sundown again.
—Sarah S., HM 6th
Responses to Ode to a
Cat by Winta Z., HM 6th
Dogs Are Cooler
Dogs come to meet you are the door
Can cats beat that?
Dogs find the lost toys
Cats find them and hide them!
Dogs love everyone!
Can cats attest to that?
Do you still like cats?
--Charlotte C.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Ode to my Dog
black fur
sharp coyote ears
he is dripping with a need to please
my family is his pack
and he loves us
unfoodmotivated.
he just wants us to come home
from school or work
and sit down next to him
--Justin H.
(Saint Ann’s 7th)
Back to Top
Response
to Ode to the Computer by Sarah S.,HM 6th
Computers
You open before me, but I must be careful
For strangers could use you against me.
Spam, identity theft, and hackers breaking through
Your weak security, controlling you
Through the machine which I’m supposed to control.
A computer is a dangerous thing.
--Reed B.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Responses to Ode to
the Dictionary by Ryan Y., HM 6th
A world without a dictionary would be
a world without definition
and the English language would be gone.
It’s something so hard to read
that it makes your life easy.
It’s one of the only books that can talk to you
--Max A.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
The Dictionary, a short ode
All the words of a community
Wrapped up into a single book
Giving healthy knowledge to all
--Emma O.
(Saint Ann’s 7th)
Counter Ode to a Dictionary
Diktionaries r way overused. People say
it helps u wit spelling. I never used a
dictionary and look how good I spell
wurds. Who really needs a dictionary. The
dictionary was a stupid invenshun. As for the
people who made bigger ones, yeah you, Oxford and
Webster. Any 1 who reads it, is a square.
--Forbes W.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
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Responses to Ode to
My Little Friend by Justin C., HM 6th
My Little Friend
My little friend can fly.
I rely on my little friend.
Sometimes my little friend is my only
Friend. I rely on her to be there.
She always is.
--Anna Z.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Funny sometimes
Right and wrong
Independently
Entertaining. You
Never
Dread their company
--Julia P.
(Saint Ann’s
7th)
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Responses to Ode
to the Eraser by Steven H., HM 6th
Eraser
Erasers are ruthless killers,
Slaughtering all artistic notions until the paper is left
Barren, blank and lifeless.
Erasers judge whether a scribble or scrabble
Is good enough to live.
An eraser doesn’t see the beauty
Of any artistic idea, only mistakes to correct.
Erasers are ruthless killers.
--Reed B.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Ode by the Eraser
What a fool, you little boy
I control you as you, your toy
I’m not your parent
I’m your master
I erase your good work
And you, yourself, make it a disaster
I have you under my horrid spell
You will never have the confidence
To go from pencil to quell.
--Nayan G.
(Saint Ann’s 7th)
Responses to Ode
to French Fries by Ashley R., HM 6th
Ketchup
There is a lot of tomato sauce
But ketchup is the boss.
Without ketchup the great taste of your French fry
Would immediately die.
Many foods are not much
Without ketchup’s extra touch.
To French fries, ketchup was wed
Because of its beautiful red.
Ketchup can be used as a movie prep.
The type that can make your heart stop.
And if you say ketchup tastes crass
Well, I won’t respond to such sass.
--Jack W.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
What’s Wrong With Other Kinds of
Potatoes?
Home fries, French fries, Chips,
any kind of potato—
boiled, fried, roasted, baked—
will do the trick for me,
that astonishing miracle,
that soft, delicious, fleshy vegetable
that goes with any kind of food
(or, many kinds of foods—
I don’t really want to try
a baked potato
with, say,
as delicious as it is,
a mango sorbet)—
is just perfect for me…
EXCEPT FOR—
McDonalds’ French fries.
Ugh.
Okay, now I am going to get some French fries
Not from McDonalds.
--Gautama M.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
Response to
Ode to a Fridge by Casey M.
Ode to a Fridge
Oh, fridge,
your cold body cools me off
after a hot day.
I drink the water you have chilled for me
and I put the ice you have frozen for me
in my cup.
I open up both of your precious doors
and your cool air surrounds me.
Now I am refreshed and can go on with my day.
—Isis B-L., HM 6th
Response to Ode to
the Garbage Man by India E.
Ode to Garbage Man
The man who works
24-7 and never stops doing his job
never has time for family or fun
just works and works.
He isn’t appreciated by any,
hated by some, and
ignored by others.
Always doing his job, never stopping to break.
No one knows how tough his job is,
always picking up bags
and loading them into his truck.
—Nick W., HM 6th
Responses
to Ode to my iPod by Ian A., HM 6th
“Nano”
don’t listen to your Nano
too loud
your ears will turn
into a volcano
and bubble lava and
ruin your pretty face.
I have half a mind
to lock your Nano in a child-proof place
Charlotte C.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Ode to my iPod
How clever you are.
I see,
sitting on the subway
that we are each
just trying to reach our destination.
We are each captured
by you,
dear nana, or mini.
You are our friend
our only true friend
with the click of a button
our souls blare through.
Your stringy plastic mouth
contains our thoughts
put to someone else’s words,
our passions
spoken with someone else’s mouth.
You are our friend.
We no longer talk.
This train is silent.
We have no need for conversation.
What is there to say
that you
loving friend, cannot tell us?
if something of import happens
surely we will be informed.
You antics fill my ear.
My head is full
of art
of rap
of pop
R&B
and anything else
I choose.
--Liya R.
(Saint Ann’s 8th)
Response to
Ode to Abraham Lincoln by Jack W.
Ode to Abraham Lincoln
Honest Abe some people call you,
Saving the USA from slavery.
Sixteenth president, that’s what you’re known for,
Back in the 1800s.
You corrected our mistake through the Gettysburg Address.
Abe, you sit in D.C., as people attempt to see you.
Wearing that dull, dark, and dim top hat, you saved the USA.
You’re the one that galloped along for many miles to return a penny to
A woman you didn’t give the right amount of change to.
You’ve left your legacy with us: honesty, honesty, honesty.
—Steven H., HM 6th
Response to Ode to
Murder Mysteries by Olivia G.
Ode To Murder Mysteries
Fear and fright…
Suspension and interest…
That’s what I am feeling.
As I read the suspending pages
And it follows along.
First the death
Then the investigation
Then the conclusion…
My fear wants me to pull away,
But am hooked by interest…
Because it’s a
Murder
and you want to know who dies…
Domenic M., HM 6th
Response to Ode to my Pencil by Maya E., HM 6th
Anti-Pencil
A pencil
doesn’t seem to like
to write,
for each time it does,
it shrinks
smaller and
smaller,
like a candle’s life
fading away,
and makes my work more difficult.
--Anna F.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Ode to a Pencil
Pencil
You
Take
Me
All
Over
School.
You write
So much: all my poems, stories,
Assignments and everything.
You have to.
I sharpen you
Until
You get
too
Small.
I
Will
Always
Remember what you wrote
Forever and ever.
--Emmy B.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
Response to Ode to
a Pigeon in the Window by Gussie R.
Ode to a Pigeon in the Window
I lounged, staring at the pigeon in the window,
nestled with its mate, head under wing
upon our air conditioner.
I silently watched as the pigeon
cocked its pinball head towards me
not knowing my presence
and even as my brother barreled in
just to get a bagel,
the pigeon took no notice and called for its mate.
Nineteen days later
the pigeon bustles around the white box
as the sun begins to climb its ladder.
Squawks from its new young
Erupt under the machine outside our kitchen window.
—Gillian M-L., HM 6th
Ode to the Point
What am I doing?
Why?
Where am I going?
Why?
As I stand
looking out the pale
dull window,
it makes me feel meaningless
doing nothing
wasting my time.
Why?
The silence echoes
on and
on.
To my left is past
and my right is future.
Where do I want to be?
Pressure
decisions
mistakes
all accumulate making
it hard to reach
the point.
—Ryan Y., HM 6th
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Response to Ode to Saint Ann's by Eliza C.
Ode to Horace Mann
Historically known as the best in the city
Our school has been said to give others no pity
Rarely loosing, other schools can’t compete
Agents our teams who dominate and defeat
Carefully calculating calculus numbers
Excellently studying so our grades don’t fall under
Masterful artworks, music, and dance
Artistic achievements that dazzle all fans
Never alone friendships that last
Nothing forgotten memories of past
Scholars agree Horace Mann is the best
Colleges know we all pass the test
How is it possible this all could be here
Our school provides us endless hours of cheer
Over the years our knowledge increases
Learning to patch together the pieces.
—Maya E., HM 6th
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Response to Ode to Sneakers by Elizabeth P.
Ode to Sneakers
Thumping inside the sneaker box
Begging me 2 put you on my feet
The box shines with a dazzling illumination
So I put the shoes on
You were the 14’s (Jordan’s)
And you were as fresh as a new born.
My feet smiled in delight
Your colors were baby blue orange and white.
You smelled so sweet
You take my feet on a journey
You take me, show me.
Your laces bounce
up
and down
as I walk
when I get home I take you off of my feet
and I lay down on my bed thankful that you’re mine.
—Justin C., HM 6th
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Responses to Ode to Soap by Alexis-Brianna F., HM 6th
Soap makes the world smell good?
I say flowers make the world smell better.
Perfume also saves our noses
It also smells better
Bubbles are nice, for a second
then they pop
and get soap in your eyes
Water and coffee too
wakes me up in the morning
Lulls to sleep you say,
can you not get to sleep by yourself?
Soap won’t keep you warm
nor clean up the rainy day.
Without water,
soap is useless.
--Ava P.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Ode to Dirt
Dear dirt,
You make me happy
Every day
When at school or when
At play.
A constant war between
Dirt and soap, we play all
Day.
Dirt, you are loved, so much
You are carried
By all.
Thank you
Dirt, we
Love you.
--Yelena G.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
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Response to Ode to Summer by Eliza C.
Response Ode: Ode to Summer
The pools are open
And everyone flocks.
There is a warm breeze that is lifted from the desert.
The ice-cream trucks are open
And no one is safe from cavities.
There is joy and happiness.
There is no schoolwork to hamper the thoughts of children
Only freedom.
The grass is as green as the sea
And the birds sing the song of summer.
In our hearts summer will never end
But in our minds school is one day away.
—Winta Z., HM 6th
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Response to Ode to Socks by Nick W., HM 6th
Lying on the floor
A limp form
Flung unceremoniously down to
Sit,
Boredom coursing through you.
I’m sure if you had one,
Your head would be in your hand,
Your face contorted
And your mouth would be turned down at the corners.
You would be twiddling your thumbs.
I can image you as a man
With a mop of red hair
And a little pointed beard
And a little green suit
And a jester hat
And elf shoes turned up at the toe
And…
And…
But you’re not,
And you never will be.
You’re just a sock,
Lying on the floor.
--Jo Haller
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
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Response to Ode to a Toothbrush by Gillian M-L., HM 6th
Scrubbing teeth is your job
So do your duty. Your best friend
Extra Mint Colgate Toothpaste can’t
Wait to see you, so have a lot of fun
At your two-minute play-date.
--Elizabeth P.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
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Responses to Ode to Watches by Ethan C., HM 6th
Who needs time?
No one needs time!
Time makes people nervous.
Watches are just a way of telling time.Just another way of being nervous.
No matter how much jewels there are in watches they still are
Wrong.
Watches don’t tell time
History tells time.
Gideon N.
(Saint Ann’s 6th)
Bang
Bang
Bang
Lunch trays hit tables
Now or never
Time is always running
Never will I eat this same
Sandwich
Today, tomorrow, never again
Time keeps going,
Though my watch is slow
Bang
Bang
Bang
“Oh, it is 1:00; I am off to English”
--Ruby S.
(Saint Ann’s 7th)
Time/Watch
I’m always late.
My watch just sits there on my wrist
Reminding me.
If there was no such thing as a watch,
Then… then I would
Not have to change all of them
On daylight’s saving.
Why when you’re having fun does time
Go fast?
Why when you’re bored does time go oh so
Slowly?
Why is there time?
Because I always feel like I’m
Losing It.
--Eliza C.
(Saint Ann’s 5th)
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Response to Ode to a Watermelon by Emmy B.
Ode to an Ode
Watermelon, oh watermelon.
The sweetness of your juice
makes me want to jump up and scream.
The crunch, crunch of you in my mouth
fills my day with joy.
Your many black eyes
glare at me as I eat you up,
Bite
by
Bite.
But I am unfazed by this
as I devour all of you.
—Isis B.-L., HM 6th
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Response to Wind by Gideon N.
Still Air
Air that we breath to fill our lungs
Standing still for the taking
Air that does not destroy unless by the wind
The power of air keeps us alive
The power of air is survival
Not even the wind can match
The power of still air.
—Ashley R., HM 6th
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