Archive for Thursday, June 5, 1997


June 5, 1997


The poems by students in Joy Clumsky's creative writing classes at Lawrence High School are called "springboard poems." The students read a piece of prose and then converted it into poetry.

Over in the Holler

"Heed by warning.

Your life I spare.

Deep over in the holler there.

He rides at night

On goblin steed.

He has no face; to this pay heed.

A Hessian prince

From grave beyond,

His soul is damned and head is gone.

He has no care

Of simple mind.

He leaves the body long behind.

Encounter not

For cordial ride,

But when the headless beast is spied

Make haste from him

And spare no time

For covered bridge that spans the brine.

With power lost

On other side,

No longer can the spirit ride.

So pass the church

And cross the brine

To live to see another time.

So if you hear

The goblin steed,

Cast not a glance; to this pay heed.

The Hessian slain,

Deep into pain,

You'll be the next, Ichabod Crane."

-- by Matthew Black, inspired by Washington Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"


Watching their elegance,

I sit and just stare,

With my own awkwardness

I can't even compare.

So noble like great kinds

With long necks of white,

They spread out their great wings

And take off to flight.

I wish I could join them

As they soar into the sky,

but it's only a dream

When you're as ugly as I.

-- By Christy Newton, inspired by "The Ugly Duckling" by Hans Christian Anderson


Oh, joyous day!

Hip, Hip, Hooray!

I want to celebrate and rejoice.

The world I want to hear my voice.

We will have a feast.

Servant, kill the fatted beast.

Everything will go just right

For tonight is the night,

The night my son has come home.

He tried to make it on his own

But failed and has come here again.

Let's celebrate, and welcome him in.

Oh, joyous day!

Hip, Hip, Hooray!

-- By Gina Inzerillo, inspired by the biblical story of the Prodigal Son

The Puppet

I see you there

Sitting together,

Laughing together,

Living together.

I see how you play

And sing and run.

I see you, and my heart

Turns pale in confusion

And bitterness.

Oh, how I long

To live and laugh and love,

As you so easily do!

Turning, I see my reflection

In a nearby mirror.

It cuts into me

Like the Moor's scimitar

Will cut into my

Straw-filled body someday.

"You are not alive,"

It screams to me,

"You do not exist.

You are only a worthless puppet

Condemned to dance at

Our master's beckoning ...

You are only a puppet!"

I see my reflection

And the bedraggled body it reveals,

With its worn face and tattered clothing.

Suddenly, finally, a single tear

Escapes from my painted eyes.

I see it as it runs down

My painted face into my thin costume.

If only the mirror showed

What is under this carved exterior.

Then, maybe I would exist.

Maybe I might live.

Maybe then you would see

My soul.

-- by Bethany Cook, inspired by "Retrockio"


My mind escapes

From life's responsibilities,

To find joy

In the picaresque view

Of the Catskills.

The coastal Plains

Rise to the sky.

Stars hang on mountaintops,

Weathered by endless seasons.

Dewdrops collect,

Racing to the Hudson.

A thousand leaves

Drift lazily downward.

Ah, it is so easy

To get lost

In the thick trees

And the green valleys.

-- by Katie Winter, inspired by Washington Irving's "Rip Van Winkle"

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