Children

December 2, 2017

“Erasers” by Amanda J. NelsonPosted by Rattle

Amanda J. Nelson (grade 6)

ERASERS

Sometimes I wish I had an eraser,

not a normal one,

this one would erase differently,

erase the past,

like the night my family and I were sitting in the living room

watching a thriller, but our minds weren’t on it.

I was reading a good book, as always.

There were two tents in the background

which we planned to sleep in.

Popcorn was on my mother’s lap,

my little sister was doing a puzzle

and eating popcorn.

A perfect evening

ruined

with only a phone call.

My mom almost didn’t answer

but in the end she did.

I wish she hadn’t, although it wouldn’t have helped in the least.

Me, sitting in the background

while my father’s girlfriend was busy telling my mother

that my father died.

Too many drugs.

30 seconds changed my life.

That day turned out to be the worst in my whole life.

No erasers. Too bad.

—from Rattle #9, Summer 1998
Tribute to Children

November 25, 2017

“Einstein” by Walter PearcePosted by Rattle

Walter Pearce (grade 6)

EINSTEIN

Here I sit in core class

thinking about nothing and everything

as I always do.

Mrs. Wyneken is writing something on the board

but nothing of interest.

As always, I’m not paying attention

just thinking about my grades, and what comes to mind

is I don’t know what it means to have good grades anyway?

All it means is that you are good at bringing back homework on time

and acting good in class and not talking.

What else is there in a grade besides that?

Like the great Einstein, he flunked math

and twenty years later became the greatest mathematician ever.

He was just not good at listening, and paying attention.

Who knows what was going through his mind,

especially when he got in trouble.

Maybe he was equating some great theory.

He is somewhat like me—

I am always thinking about some line of code I could use

in some program I am making at home

and writing it down on a piece of paper.

Even if you have good grades, you could still be some idiot

that spends hours at home trying to do homework

but can listen very good and never gets what they are saying.

I think I am somewhat like Einstein.

I get concepts that most people will never get.

I have taught myself what most have to read a book to get.

Your grades mean nothing; it is how you think,

not what the grades are.

—from Rattle #9, Summer 1998
Tribute to Children

November 18, 2017

“The Last Look” by Matthew KinzelbergPosted by Rattle

Matthew Kinzelberg (grade 6)

THE LAST LOOK

At the beach

The last moment

Watching the waves

That crash against

The sand

My dad watching over me

Like a star

The sunset going down

I felt like I was

Taking my last breath

Like my dad did

I will never forget him

I have a task he asked

Me to do

To play baseball

The way he taught me.

—from Rattle #9, Summer 1998
Tribute to Children

November 11, 2017

“Gray” by Valerie M. SmithPosted by Rattle

Valerie M. Smith (grade 12)

GRAY

I remember how her small ankles

would guide her feet

to sun-bathing rocks

nestled in sea water

and pelican coffee breaks.

Her arms would bleed

from their gagged mercy

protruding from the sea,

gray hearts longing

for her precious liquid life.

We’d spread out our ribs

on these rocks,

feeling them push into our skin.

Too shy for bathing suits

and the sun’s soothing rays,

we’d sleep

wrapped in California dreams

and familiar arms and legs

that counted a mystical four

instead of a lonely two.

No better human pillows ever existed.

This was the sin

that parents should scorn

because she possessed me

like she possessed beauty.

It was all the life

I felt to be lived

in mysterious oceans of eyeliner.

—from Rattle #9, Summer 1998
Tribute to Children

November 4, 2017

“The Trail of Your Footsteps” by Suzanne CatalanoPosted by Rattle

Suzanne Catalano (grade 12)

THE TRAIL OF YOUR FOOTSTEPS

The trail of your footsteps

graved in the ground

become peaceful angels

following the blonde star’s glint

as your shadow becomes a

silhouette—

a four month dead betrayal to

the sun.

Your spicy cologne still

moves

like a bouquet of violet dancers

melting like ice on pine

trickling drops of salt

as they kiss the earth with

your rosemary lips.

Your melodic acid still

races

between hairs on your arms

to corduroy—

snug against your thighs.

Eyes of burgundy,

tears of rust

my parallel fists

forgive my blindness

as your footprints

fill with dew.

—from Rattle #9, Summer 1998
Tribute to Children

October 28, 2017

“When You Told Me You Were an Alcoholic” by Anna VitalePosted by Rattle

Anna Vitale (grade 11)

WHEN YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE AN ALCOHOLIC

I am your mother

I am the devil

I am suicide with an empty chamber

I am a drug addict

I am God

I am your shadow with my tongue screwed into your forehead

I am your mother and you will do everything I say

I am a speed freak

I am the devil and I will kill you

I am God and you are dead

I am melting ice cream

I am heroin

I am dry lips

I am a 17 year old boy that smells bad

I am a stuffed bear with one ear

I am decaf

I am the devil

I am a plant in winter

I am a 13 year old runaway with dirty underwear and fingernails

I am deception

I am 13200 volts of a Danger sign

I am a bottle of warm Corona

I am the devil

I am a chunk of skin you tore off shaving

I am Five O’ Clock Gin that you chug for breakfast

I am you with breasts

I am abortions

I am an old lamp in Miriam’s Antique Shop

I am 8 fat women with cotton candy

I am the devil

—from Rattle #9, Summer 1998
Tribute to Children

October 21, 2017

“If I Were a Picture” by Heather FoxPosted by Rattle

Heather Fox (grade 5)

IF I WERE A PICTURE

If I were a picture

my memories would come back to me

as I remembered

the day it was taken.

It would be as if

I were in my own world.

The children in the picture

would make whoever looked at it

light up and glow.

It would be great to be a picture because all day

I would wait for people to look at me

and smile.

—from Rattle #9, Summer 1998
Tribute to Children