Why don't you paint me
like I am
Talking and laughing
with friends and relatives
With the bright blue sky gleaming in my eyes
Why don't you paint me
Like I am
Paint me dark eyed and black haired
And the shimmering stars in my mind
Paint me with excitement
A splash of vivid colors
Paint me with sorrow
A pool of dull hues
Paint me with intelligence
A collection of colorful shapes
Paint me with freedom
Ribbons of red, white, and blue.

Paint the memories in my mind
The tall, snowy mountains
The fields and creeks of nature.

Paint me with the happiness
Expressed in my thoughts
Paint me with the tears
The times of complete sorrow

You can hear it in my mind
How my thoughts wish they could show
Like me
Paint me calm
Paint me happy
Paint me alive.

(V)
(-.-)
(")(")

Ingenuity has a mind like no other. He is very helpful in many ways.
Ingenuity is a powerful and courageous person but yet gentle enough to
help others and encourage different ideas. His mind works so smoothly;
ideas, words, problems roll in and out. He is a ver good friend, if you get
along with him.

Ingenuity was actually a struggling student throughout his school
career until one time in middle school, the strong power locked in a cell
in his mind for his whole life couldn't hold on any longer and released
itself. From then on, thoughts and images; words and ideas could pass
through him instantly and he became an intellect. Now, he is an open
person. He is interpersonal and passes his knowledge to others.
Wherever e goes now, words, ideas, and problems follow him, enjoying
his strong working mind.

My mind is like the deep, blue ocean.
Sometimes, the black, thrashing water expresses my anger,
Sometimes the cheerful, sparkling water expresses my joy,
Other times, the rolling waves express my nervousness.
The large ocean represents my large pool of thought,
the depth represents the depth of my thinking.
The schools of fish darting around are my ideas,
swimming in and out of my mind,
The shadows deep below are the ideas and thoughts,
not yet discovered, concealed in dark mystery,
The colorful ocean plants and creatures,
are the brilliant and vivid imagination brewing in my mind,
My mind is like the deep, blue ocean,
A sea of thoughts,
A sea of imagination.

He threw with all his might, but the third stone came skipping back...

Jack was skipping stones one day in July with his sister and when he
skipped the third stone, it bounced three times and then turned around
and came back to him. "This is strange, " Jack thought and threw it a bit
harder. This time, it bounced five times and came back to him again.
It was as if the stone was magnetically attracted to him. By this time,
Jack was a little bit frightened. He threw the stone once again, except
this time, he didn't care if it skipped and just threw the stone with all his
might. The stone went far into the lake, but after a few seconds, the stone
came hurtling back at him.
"What's happening?" asked his sister in a confused manner.
"Nothing." Jack didn't sound so convincing.
He took a closer look at the stone and realized that it was not just any
ordinary stone, it was a sapphire color and ad the letters J.K.L. engraved
in it. He thought for a moment and realized tey were his initials, Jack
William Kensing. He was becoming confused. Who could have done this?

Justin
By Max Wang

When I watch you,
get good grades,
sitting, attentively,
listening to the teacher,
or,
when I watch you,
doing good in math,
getting good grades in Mrs. Crisostomo's class,
listening and watching,
paying attention,
I say,
when I watch you,
you good student,
who used to be a struggling student,
used to try your best,
I look up,
through your improvement,
I look up,

i am a math nerd and a nerd dude. Marc and Justin's poems are right.
I also like to say i like lisa.

When I think of the place I spent my early childood, all that I seem to
remember is snow- white, sparkling patches of snow that reflecs te bright
sunlight, the snow that makes your eyes water and hurt when you stare at
it. I don't know why I should remember only the snow. Surely there must
have been squirrels and birds taking shelter in the pine trees somewhere
where I lived; but memory is a deceiving creature- it does not present
things as they are, but rather as they feel. And so, when I think of that time
and that place, I remember only the chilly winter breeze and the snow
covered fields of grass. And one other thing I remember, another
incongruency of memory- the tall, white, human-like statue- the
snowman my father built.

In the middle of the night, a gloomy bell chimed midnight somewhere
nearby. In the Yard ( as the locals called it) tall, eerie trees looked down
upon the ground like ghostly shadows. The leaves rustled hauntingly in
the cold, wicked, breeze as if it were a warning for unwelcome visitors to
stay away. The moon shone through the grove, giving the Yard a lonely
and mysterious sensation. The ground was covered in dead, brown
leaves and somewhere nearby, a raccoon stirred. The dark,
unorganized bushes crowded the ground. An old, crickety shed stood
abandoned nearby, doors hanging on one hinge. Eerie life flourished in
the shadows inside the shed, a group of red-eyed rats, and homes to
hundreds of spiders