HERE: Sixth Grade Poetry

The sixth graders have been busy writing poems and other short creative pieces of writing for their Humanities class. Last week they read an excerpt of a poem called "Here" by Arthur Sze in which each line begins with the word  "Here." They were then asked to write their own poem using this same format. The result was many stunning poems which gave insight into the state of mind and vitality of this amazing group of students. Herewith is a compilation: 

HERE, by sixth graders at Pressman Academy

Here in the light pink sky, a sun arises, rising high.

Here a cat meows.

Here a ball rolls away.

Here the pictures are staring.

Here is a basketball that has gone through the hoop many times. 

Here lies a pencil on a desk waiting to be used.

Here a little girl, not afraid to stand out.

Here the coronavirus.

Here the city is silent, waiting for the pandemic to blow over.

Here is art made years ago.

Here is the sound of laughter, bouncing through the walls.

Here are the birds, chirping right outside my window .

Here are fake plants sitting quietly on my desk.

Here a flower blooming in the light. 

Here six people are nice to one another.

Here the floor creaks when I walk.

Here the breeze from a nice spring day.

Here the little bug got stepped on by a two year old.

Here the sound of a thunder rings out.

Here could be anywhere you want.

Here is an air vent that hums all day long.

Here is the sink with dishes all sudsy and wet.

Here on the table lies games, puzzles, and books.

Here is the tree with dew dripping down.

Here the baseball hit the window.

Here the handprints are set in the cement.

Here the splinter was pulled.

Here are palm trees waiting for summer.

Here the trampoline, no longer wanting to get jumped on.

Here a puddle dreaming of becoming an ocean.

Here are drums crying from pain.

Here a book dreaming to read.

Here one goes shopping and gets a new shirt. 

Here I am looking at my rug.

Here I have learned everything. 

Here I am looking outside in the gloomy rain all alone. 

Here a blank piece of paper waiting to be painted on.

Here a bee resting on a flower.

Here a raindrop falling from above.

Here the billions of stars floating in the universe.

Here a guitar that wants to be played.

Here an abandoned house, about to be discovered once again.

Here I am in this beautiful world. 

Here are my parents who help me every day to be a better person. 

Here are the utensils.

Here is the coffee pot boiling up.

Here I work. 

Here is the desk, where we conduct business. 

Here a dog sleeps, quietly snoring.

Here a vine grows on the fence.

Here a dog wakes up, one eye blue and one eye brown.

Here music has wafted.

Here the art of Torah.

Here where people have come and gone.

Here a deer leaping across the river and the leaves falling from the trees, one by one.

Here a life so small that he loves every second of it.

Here a fat dog dreams of being skinny.

Here is the sunset sky, in all of its glory.

Here a stuffed animal with many holes hoping it can be sewed together.

Here you hear the soft air.

Here an empty art studio

Here a wooden table with scratch marks.

Here is where people have cried.

Here a journey began.

Here is where you start to grow up.

Here is life.

Here I am.