A CHANGE IN PERSPECTIVE

SMS Literary Magazine 2009

Welcome to the new and improved Scarsdale Middle School Literary Magazine for 2009!!! This new, online version is truly “A Change in Perspective!” We hope you enjoy this compilation of literary and artistic works created by the students of Scarsdale Middle School!

A CHANGE IN PERSPECTIVE

Scarsdale Middle School Literary Magazine 2009

Ali Melnick Grade 7

Lawrence Rosenstadt Grade 6

Cover photograph by Taylor Solomon Grade 8

Table of Contents

Literary Work Page Artwork Page

Jake Abrahams Victor Avram James Baker Allison Benedict Charlotte Blatt Emily Bochner Rachel Boxer Marisa Brown Sara Calderon Mark Colbran Andrea Ditkoff Richie Gutierrez Ana Hall Jacqui Hebner Katharina Horn Rachel Josselsohn John Kaspers Sean Keith Eduardo Lacagnina Alex Levin Jon Levine Allie Levy Lauren Lilly Juliana Maronilla Cailey Martin Meagan McDermott Becca Miller Madeleine Minke Alexandra Naclerio Daniel Nodiff Marc Oil Haruka Ono Alisha Parikh Julia Phoon Orion Rendon Ben Rosenbaum Becky SchwartzKalila Shapiro Ethan Shire Jessie Somekh Emma Spencer Chloe Stoddard Abigail StoneSydney Waldman Brandon Weissman Connor Wolfe Rachel Wolfe Chelsea Wong Taylor Yu Zachary Zlatin

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Haley Baker Zachary Cromwell Celeste Dilauro Caroline Gold Chris Katchis Jacob Kirschenbaum Eric Kwong Noah Li Ali Lonner Ali Melnick Meera Nayar Megha Nayar Melanie Norman Connor Pascale Alex Popescu Lawrence Rosenstadt Kate Schnitzer Oliver Shenberg Taylor Solomon Jessie SomekhKaitlyn Son Sarah Walden

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17

That Thick Hot Blanket

That thick hot blanketCovering the globe

Created by car gasesTrapped in the atmosphere

The sun rays stayCausing us to have warm days

Even when it rainsLeaving no hope for snow daysTricking flowers into blooming

Making them think spring is hereKilling crops

Farmers losing moneyMelting every trace of ice in its sightTurning what were once normal days

Into havoc waysNo longer can we cool down

Not with this heat aroundThis must be stoppedSome sacrifices madeJust to live another dayThat thick hot blanket

Get out of our way!

Chelsea WongGrade 8Zachary Cromwell

Grade 7

Kindness is an exotic aquamarineIt sounds like my mom whispering

“goodnight” to me in my earIt smells like one of my homemade cupcakes

for my dad on his birthdayIt is the taste of a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup

on a freezing winter dayKindness is knowing when to say you’re sorry

and meaning it

Orion RendonGrade 6

Kaitlyn SonGrade 6

4

Winter is Coming

The girl descended from her busShe started walking down her streetHummingIt was a beautiful fall dayThere was a brisk breezeA bright skyAnd an array of fall colors in the surrounding treesShe had on her favorite sweaterPerfectly content she neared her homeSuddenly the wind picked upThe trees started shaking violently andThe sky darkenedShe could almost hear the trees whining that their leaves were fallingAnd they would die soonShe could feel the wind whistling through her bonesSending an icy chill down her spineAnd she could sense the skyTelling her it would only get darkerIn days to comeShe paused, standing at her front stepsSlowly walking up her front stoopShe whispered,“Winter is coming,”And it was. Marisa Brown

Grade 8

A Walk Around Scarsdale Middle School

Where is the December snow?I walk outside and see the bare limbs of the tree

Like a skeleton’s hands, reaching out towards meA shiver crawls up my spine

The glint of the sun on the car blinds my eyeAs the American flag billows in the wind passing by

I lie down on the hard, cold, concrete groundAnd gaze into the skyAs the clouds float by

But lose concentration from the bus’s screeching crySilence

Then suddenly we hearA noise from above

Is that Emily who is near?

As we walk up the hillWe approach the weeping willow treeThe buses begin to descend upon us

Stirring up debrisAs we head inside

The day feels like it started so long agoBut we are still left wondering

What happened to the December snow? Jessie SomekhGrade 8

Winter Sky

The cool breeze enters my bodyas I walk out the door.

Signs and trees reach out andcall for me.

Trash and lonely sweatshirtson the ground

just waitto be covered with snow.

Walking down those eight stepsI see storage boxes calling

Rent MeNational Mobile Storage.

A yellow school buswaits for the kids to come.

Many trees crying as the cold air

runs up their lonely bark.Children run down the path

with balls and feet hurting the road.As I continue to walk aroundI see more signs and trees

that remind me of myself.

Now as I start to enter the buildingI start to appreciate

the beauty of the winter sky.

Becky SchwartzGrade 8

5

WORK URL 6

A mirror is the

diamond in the sun

With the color of all

The amazing shape of

that colorful sun

Hair sprinting

In every direction

Luster of the black

Whiteness around

soft love

Sparkling tiger fur

As your eyes

Blindly twirl colors

Gazing at its fangs

Burn blue

Brandon Weissman

Grade 6

Worry is a pale and sick yellowIt sounds like someone gasping for breath

It smells like the exhaust from a busIt tastes like bitter cherry-flavored cough

medicine

Worry feels like an invisible heavy weightOn your heart.

Juliana MaronillaGrade 6

Alex PopescuGrade 8

WORK URL 7

A FLOWER

A flower is like a painting,

No two are alike.

Its brilliant colors are breathtaking,

Its smell fills the air like a perfume,

Its velvety petals feel as soft as a

cloud,

It looks like sunset with many colors,

It shines in the sun,

As the water drops

from the previous rain

glisten.

I ponder, looking into the flower,

wondering

how it twisted its colors

as if it was tie-dyed,

Started with a dark shade of pink in

the

center,

And slowly lightening

as it reaches the tips of the petals.

Ali LonnerGrade 7

Chloe StoddardGrade 6

Stupid Drought

My flowers are witherin’Nothing gone a’bloomTell me, weatherman,

Tell me, tell me, tell me it’s gonna rain soon!A week has gone by

Nothin’ but a drought,I am doing the stinking rain dance,

C’mon and change this about!Rain’s been predicted

Pretty soon in fact - oh my,Many, many days gone by

Yet it’s still just a lie.I go to my tap to fill the watering can,

Not a single drop comes thundering down....Oh Man!!!!

Mark ColbranGrade 7

Flicker

I am orange I am redI am yellow I am purpleI am bright and colorful

Hot but you want to touch meForming shapes reminiscent of sand castles

I illuminate and warm a roomReligious, romantic, reassuringCasting shadows on the wall

Smell the aromaBe still be quiet...you can hear me crackle

Let me radiateWatch me melt away

Abigail StoneGrade 8

WORK URL 8

Late Night Homework Run

9 o’clock, gone to bed,Mom yells, “Wake up, sleepyhead!Your homework’s bad, it isn’t done!

If you don’t hurry, you’ll be up till one!”Get up, bleary-eyed,

Complain, fight, left teary-eyed,Tomorrow’s when my paper’s due,

Scrap my thesis, begin anew.10 o’clock, paper’s done,

But the battle’s just begun,Learn the Pythagorean Theorem,

My parents are yelling, but I can’t hear them.11 at night, feeling blue,

But one more thing is left to do.Science is Astronomy,

Stars ride upon a Milky Way sea.12 o’clock, finally done,

Rest is earned, and rightly won.In school, hand homework in,

Feel like I’m about to win...“I can’t accept this. It’s not done right.

When did you do this - 10 at night?I can’t accept this. Do it again.”

I got so mad. I stood up and then“Where are you going?” the teacher said.

“Me? I’m going back to bed!”Becca Miller

Grade 8

My Pencil Case

My pencil caseIs like an office superstore.

In aisle one,There are mechanical pencils

Of many colorsErasers half gone,

Worn away from my math mistakesOthers the lead is done,

from all of my writing in English.The interior

Is marked with scribblesOf blue and green highlighter.

Spanish flash cards from aisle twostanding upright.

One a little bent from being at the bottomThe other covered

With little marks from a pen without a cap.In aisle three are blue and black pens

Scattered among the other thingsSome with caps that have survived

And others have been lost,Fallen to the bottom of my backpack.

Whiteout from aisle four,With a little bit on the label

The brush, cake-like, from all its use in scienceThe screw on top lopsidedFrom when I was worried

I would be late for social studiesIf I didn’t hurry.

Some hair clips and hair tiesTo control my curls.

Highlighters in aisle five3/4 of them forgotten

Because I usually only need one color.The others lay in wait.

My office super store pencil caseSits on a parking lot of binders

Waiting for a customerOr a delivery.

Meagan McDermottGrade 8

Writer’s Block

Do you know that feelingWhen you have writer’s block?

So you want to write about writer’s blockBut you can’t even think

How you would begin to describe writer’s block?The other poems I’ve written are junk

By handing those in I would flunkThe other poems can make you cry

So this is my last tryNo matter how hard I try

These lines don’t have rhymesMy metaphors are about as gray

As the sky on a foggy dayMy similes on the page

Are like garbage in the trash canMy Haikus don’t work

No matter how hard I tryI can’t get the form

So my writer’s block is goneI can get to work nowHere is a fine poem

I can use.Kalila Shapiro

Grade 7

WORK URL 9

Jacob KirschenbaumGrade 8

Mindless Faces

No one hereBesides meAnd these echoing wallsThat seem to never stop echoingThe echo isA mysterious voiceLurks around meSuddenlyMindless faces appearSilent drapes cover the broken evidence of these mindless facesI realize that mysterious voice that seems to be echoing off the wallsBelongs to these mindless facesThey have no secretOnly they know and no one elseThe only way to find out what this secret isIs to see through themSee beyond what they are showingBecause The mindless facesMysterious voicesSilent drapesAre all a small piece of a very big imaginationThe true key to see what their secret isIs to look deep inside yourselfBecause you are the one who creates theseMindless facesMysterious voicesAnd silent drapes Lauren Lilly Grade 7

Clean Teen

I step into the showerAnd I hear squeak squeak

As I turn the rusty knobI hear eek eek

It’s a faint drip dripSprinkleSwish

SHHHHHHHHHHHcontinuously flowing

Splatter splatterSPLAT

Squeak, eekI’m clean!

Allison Benedict Grade 8

Jeans

Blue and distressed,I wait for warmth.

Ripped to shreds by you, my friend,SIlently I pray to be repaired.

Cold and limp I sit,until someone comes along.Thrown, beaten, and soaked,

I sit with dirty outcasts.Looking to be purified,

I hide. Crumpled up and damp.

Emma Spencer Grade 8

WORK URL 10

Stone Beach

Sauntering along the shore

Waves lapping at my feet

Silver pools of light

Cascading of objects in the

distance

I pick one up

Marveling at its sheer beauty

Passing it between hands

Respecting its flawless

complexion

Running my thumb

Across its glossy base

Tapping gently

at its dense core

A light ringing shyly responding

Its alluring color

Like the sand, full of shells

squishing

Beneath my bare feet

Setting it down carefully

With the rest once again

Seeming to seamlessly

Mend together

WIth the others of its kind

Stepping backward

To admire them as a whole

Slowly walking away

From the glorious beach of

stonesRachel Wolfe

Grade 7

Haley BakerGrade 7

The Sun

I wake up as the first songbird callsI open my eyes as the last bright star falls

Some mornings, I wear a gray shroudIt covers me up, a heavy cloud

Some mornings, I flood the earthWIth light and gold and warmth and mirthI flood the horizon with warm crimson light

Bringing in morning and pilfering lightBen Rosenbaum

Grade 8

WORK URL 11

The Changing Shore

The sea grass was quiveringAs the wind sang,

The white sand once hotFrom the blinding sun

Became cool,The soft ground near the shore

Turned cooler still.No longer were the sounds

Of laughing people,But lapping waves

And the solemn cry of seagullsContinued to persevere.It was a peaceful time,

But after times of peace,There are always times of commotion.

The sea grass became a frenzyAnd the wind a howl,The sand literally flewStealing belongings

And tearing into eyes,For a sandstorm had nested

On the rested shore.It was a chaotic time.

But after times of commotion,There are always times of peace.

The sea grass slowed its dance,The wind lessened into a croon

The sands drifted back into place;Tired of their tiresome play,

And as if to signalA quieter time has come,

Two rainbowsOf gentle blues, greens, reds, and yellows -

One on top of each otherWere shot into the sky.

It was a peaceful time once more.But the red marks on my skin

Where the sand stungRemain to be healed.

Katharina Horn Grade 6

Meera NayarGrade 8

Megha NayarGrade 6

WORK URL 12

A haze of orangeSticks its curious headOut from where it slept.

An exoticGlow fills the sky

with beauty and purity,And it yawns sleepily.

It rises slowly,Pulling the covers offFrom over its head.

It smiles willinglyas it paints the sky

a bright blue,Droplets of dewswim from leaf

to leaf,As the wind

makes the leaves undulate.The sun reflects

against the ground,And the worldwakes up, too.

Sara Calderon Grade 6

Color Chorus

The night was a splendid gold and red,The sun was setting, leaving night to chase away day.But night didn’t come so quickly,I strolled into the rectangular dog-run filled with plants,The sun positioned in the exact right place,Then came the color chorus,Hundreds of lady bugs came from the plants and the sky,They performed a ritual of spins and dives through the red sky,Then the bees’ buzzing startedAnd one small orange ladybug landed on my fingertip,It crawled with its miniscule legs and body up to my palm,It lay there watching his friendsThen the buzzing died away,And as the sun finally set, Sending an explosion of magnificent colors,The lady bugs flew away, one by oneAnd the last to leave was my little orange lady bug,It flew into the air and disappearedAll was dark, the fire flies slowly roused, welcoming night,They glistened, but I could not stay to watchFor I had to go inside. Daniel Nodiff Grade 6

Celeste DilauroGrade 8

WORK URL 13

Papa

His wrinkled face is creasedOnce shiny ebony hair has turned silvery grayYet still remains full like a thick carpetDrooping, tired blue eyes are lake water clearReflecting wisdom and age of generations gone by.Gnarled, knotted fingersBent and distorted as if damaged by a tornadoGrab my hand gently but firmlyMaking me acknowledgeThe strength beneath the battered and worn exterior.A redwood tree, straight and tallAt present stands crooked and unbalancedLike a wobbly, unsteady table.Taut, stretched skinOf the young soldier’s facePictured in an old framed photographNo sags and surrenders to gravityAs the limbs and bonesCan no longer ignore the ticking of time.

A youthful pilotWho used to soar in the sky like an eagleCurrently struggles with each agonizing and slow stepAs if climbing a steep mountain.A bold, robust voiceShouting commands over the din of deafening enginesHas become frail and fragile,Shaky and softer,Weakened by time.

Yet, in his understanding, kind smileLives a quiet, thoughtful young man,Who grew up to become my Papa. Ethan Shire Grade 6

I am from the sinkFrom mint toothpaste and stylish gelI am from the messes madeThe sweet smell of computerI am from the bright yellow dandelionThe petite fichus treeWhose long limbs I rememberAs if they were my own.I’m from treating people kindly andbeing talkativeFrom Michael and BethI’m from deafening yelling and trying to sleep all dayAnd from, “Let’s go to Pizza Kitchen.”I’m from “be nice” and “eat your veggies”and “Rock-a-bye Baby”I’m from going to FloridaI’m from the City and the United StatesThe tasty tuna and delectable SnappleFrom the sticky egg cracked on the headThat redheaded little boyLittle Ernie and ElmoOn my deskTo my heart. Marc Oil Grade 8

I am from Animal HouseFrom rice and cantaloupeI am from the red rough velvet bricksThe horror of two wolvesI am from the blueberry bushThe oak treeWhose long gone limbs I rememberAs if they were my own.I’m from a psychoanalyst and lawyerFrom my brother and to my sisterI’m from pecan soup and My mom never making a pie just rightAnd from a place I call home.I’m from motor mouth and a thiefAnd rise and shineI’m from Over AchieversI’m from New York and RussiaPickles and chipsFrom the aunt with nine catsI’m from a family of tennisTrains that can never be touchedUnder my bedWhere the memories of monstersLie, in my heart

Alex LevinGrade 8

Forever

I knocked over the salt,And I feel really bad.

It wasn’t my fault,Although, you got quite mad.

But, if it makes you feel any better,I’ll probably have bad luck forever.

Madeleine MinkeGrade 8

WORK URL 14

Eric KwongGrade 8

I am from a soccer ballFrom a soccer field and a goalI am from the stadio di RomaWith the smell of pretzels and hotdogsI am from the grassThe treeWhose long gone limbs I rememberAs if they were my own.

I’m from Italian and Spanish culturesFrom Nonna Rosalia and Mama CarmenI’m from eating a lot and sleepingAnd from mixing up languages.

I’m from eat your vegetables to Fai i compitiAnd L’Inno di MammeliI’m from El Salvador and ItalyFrom pupuscas and pizzaFrom LucreciaWho lived throughout the warTo when she sewed la ColchaShe stays in my heart. Eduardo Lacagnina Grade 8

Leap

Thump thump swooshThump thump swoosh

It’s almost my turn to goThump swoosh

The girls before me take their turnsThump swoosh

I get readyI run,

Pushing my bare feet across the black rubber floorsWith walls surrounding covered in mirrors

Thump thumpI bend my knees almost touching

The ground.I jump up with my legs straight apart with

My hair flying in the airSwoosh

I make my land with a loudTHUMP

And catching my breathI walk back to the line and

LeapAgain Ana Hall

Grade 8

Misery is jet blackIt sounds like the last words of a loved one

It smells like the smoke coming from a cigaretteIt tastes like tears running into your mouthMisery feels like you are slowly crumbling

Into dust

Jon Levine Grade 6

WORK URL 15

Fuel for the Soul

A busy kitchenWith maids and chefs,

Servants and residents.Clatter is heard,

And commotion is here and about.Conversation with soft whispers.

A trickle of water drops,Softly splashing on my cheek.

While the blazing stoveSparks heat into the atmosphere.

Ripe, red tomatoes.In a sizzling curry,

Spices and flavors,The aromas tingle about my nose.

People enter and leave,As the meal prepares.

Knives jut into freshly cut vegetables,And sounds come from every direction.

The feeling never ends,Things are always changing in this room.

A continuous transformation of ingredientsInto elaborate dishes.

But one thing will always remain constant:The kitchen will be fuel for our souls.

Alisha Parikh Grade 8

Jessie SomekhGrade 8

WORK URL 16

Benny

Steel gray feathers pulled inBrilliant yellow head cocked

With a mischievous sparkle in his sweet brown eyesAnd twin spots of scarlet-orange cheeks

Bright paint spatters

Looking for troubleHe chews on the telephone cord

Looking up, head feathers shoot to the skyThe word “kiss” coming from his beak over and over

He stretches a foot back and spreads his feathers“Good bir-ir-ird,” he says loudly, hoping for attention

He puffs out his chest and starts singing to himself in the mirrorNot really understanding that it was himself that he was seeing

Trying to impress the other birdBenny talks to himself

Chewing on a spinach leaf nowClaw curling around the leaf like a human hand

Trying to hold stillImitating his owners, laughing,Screeching, “AW-W-W-WWW!”

Now he sleeps on his little swing,Stirring occasionally and half-waking

Nibbling on his leather chew toyCutting the leather with a strong, sharp beak

Tweeting to himself quietly

Benny fluffs his feathersDropping his treat bowl to attract attention

and getting itYawning with his beak stretched wide

With a piercing whistle that can be heard from the backyardHe tap dances across the floor of his cage,

stopping, expecting applauseHits the cage with his beak

Looking disappointed when he gets no response

Outside, the little cockatiel walks through chest-high grassWaddling around and snipping the shoots in half; our little lawn mower

Panicking when he realizes that his owners are a few feet awayFrenzied flapping until he is again on a reassuring finger.

Cailey MartinGrade 6

WORK URL 17

Tolerance

ToleranceIs an attitude

She embraces others’ differencesLike a bee

Enjoying a flower gardenRespecting differences

Is toleranceLike the destruction

of the Mesopotamian wallsShe unites others

And can make one feel includedReassuring

EncouragingAnd cherishing

Like a mother cuddling her sonIs toleranceIntolerance

Is an abominable attitudeHe insults others

Like being sprayedby a skunk

Can make one feel excludedIntolerance brings rumbles

Creates hatredCauses pain

Like scars and woundsShedding blood

Tolerance createsHappiness

PeaceLove

All we need is love

Richie Gutierrez Grade 6

Sarah WaldenGrade 6

plgy

‘m srrytht frgt t wrt ths wth vwls

Rchl Bxr

(Apology

I’m sorryThat I forgot to write this with vowels)

Rachel Boxer Grade 8

WORK URL 18

Sunset at my Cottage

Every time I go to the cottageI know I’m close,Because I can smell the lakeThe cottage is a family place,Nestled in the woods,Between a two lane highway,And Lake Huron.

Once there,I cherishThe happiness of eating with family,The brilliant glow,Of the sun settingThe same as the fresh acorn squashMy grandpa grewIn the backyard.

Everyone holds their breathWhile we watchThe sun slide downInto Lake HuronThe colors stick to the clouds,Like paintSplattered on a canvas,Every sunset is different, and beautiful,But to be there with family,Makes it even better. John Kaspers Grade 6

Beautiful Earth

I wish the world were round and green,So much greener than you have ever seen.I love the earth with all its glory,It’s just perfect for one great story.I adore the lakes so verdant and clear,Its beauty makes me shed more than a tear.The trees so pretty in their flowering, fruitful finesse,I want those shrubs and flowers to be all mine,Put in a bottle; it would be so fine,Wrap it up round and round with an old ball of twine.Just like one of those globes full of snow,Snap it up tight in a little glass jar for show.If I could have only one wish, I would put in nature’s best,Mix it in with cinnamon, sugar, spice, and all the rest.I’d take my little glass globe to bed at nightAnd stare at it, and hold it really tight.Turn it over and over until the darkness loses its fright,Then I would play with it till the morning’s light.I’d watch the snow fall ever so gently, in my little glass jarAnd wait and wait...Until the entire world was round, clean, and right.

James BakerGrade 6

The Pond

As the gentle breezesRipple the surface,A bass, huge, smooth, graceful,Streamlines for the wrigglingCaterpillar.

Splash! It jumps one foot In the air, freezes like timeStopped, then descendsTo the water with a Splash!

On the other end,A heron spreads its huge,Straight, feathery wingsAnd dive bombs The water.

Swoosh! The heronRises higher, with theBass flopping in itsMouth, and flies awayWith a largeSwoosh!

Jake AbrahamsGrade 6

Noah LiGrade 6

WORK URL 19

Ixtapa

Red glow over the horizon lineDistant water fusing with pink sparkling sky

Low sun peeking outLast rays casting long shadows on the beach floor and walls

The land seems wavy with the heat hanging in the airThe humidity like nothing else on Earth

Sitting on a benchIn shorts and a t-shirt

Feeling the cool wind ripple pastNo place up north having these beautiful plants

Coconut trees stand up like umbrellasTheir curved leaves slowly bobbing up and down

Low big-leafed plants cover the sidewalkWater lapping up on the beach

Then calmly retreating with a swooshFootprints lay in the sand

Shells and rocks scattered everywhere, partially hiddenOut at sea, jagged rock formations stick out with sharp points and

crumbling sidesA restaurant, open to the outside

Wide white doors and windows covering almost the entire wallBrown hairy coconuts stay lined up on a table with straws poked inside

Seagulls come swooping downSquawking while picking up little bits of eaten food

An island in the distance with exotic trees covering the whole hillA small village cut into the side

Small huts with straw roofs stay at shoreMoldy wooden ducks sticking out

There is a small pool with water coming out of the sidesFew strewn leaves stay on top of the water

A few visitors with bright shirtsA deep tan

And white shark tooth necklaces stride slowly on walkwaysThe whole place has a soft golden touch in the air

The objects boast a light orange feelOne side of the sky is lit with gold

The other is red-purpleIn between a pale blue

Victor AvramGrade 6

WORK URL 20

California Fever

I must go down to California again to see the beautiful beach and rip tideAnd all I ask is surfboard and waves to rideAnd the waves crash and the dolphins cry and the board falls from under meAnd a white spray on the waves top and a tsunami breaking

I must go down to California again, for the call of the running tideIs a crazy call but a clear call; one that is worldwideAnd all I ask is a cloudless day with white gulls flyingAnd the ocean spray and have it Poseidon’s way and other surfers crying

I must go down to California again to the crazy surfer lifeTo the gods’ ways, and the heavens’ ways where the water’s like a piercing knifeAnd all I ask is a beautiful day from depressed fellow surfersAnd a quiet ride and a sweet tide when the long wave is over

Connor WolfeGrade 7

...with acknowledgment to “Sea Fever” by John Masefield

Life as a Broken Stiletto

I sit here on the shelfDay after dayWatching all my sistersBe taken away

I’ve been tried onAt least once a weekBut every time my left heelStarts to creak

My store manager has triedSuper glue, gorilla glue,ShellacBut every single time I get sent back

I hope one dayMy time will comeWhen they invent a glueAs strong as bubble gum

Charlotte BlattGrade 7

Flying

It might be only me who wishesTo fly, fly in the airDon’t you ever want to knowWhat might be up there?Watching all the birds fly throughFly right through the skyI look up, desire in my eyesAnd heave a giant sighWhat if we all had wings?We wouldn’t be stuck on the floorYes, if all humans had wings like birdsAll we’d do is soarWatching the sunset, all of the colorsAll of them from down hereWhat would it be like if perhapsWe didn’t view it from here?Gliding next to the sun, the sun is our friendHow wonderful would that be?And if I choose to shoot towards the sunWouldn’t you fly there with me?

Allie LevyGrade 7

WORK URL 21

What Really Matters

Can we say to ourselvesLife is goodWhen others are sufferingWar, Poverty, IllnessCan we keep to ourselvesOur immense richesFrom our brothersCan you ignoreA person different from youFor their appearanceBecause under thisMight be the person who you will requireWhen the tables have turnedAnd you are in their worn out sandalsIn a desert with hopeIn a jungle of insecurityIn a cold winter without loveFor when left unattendedOne’s soul slowly, painfully, diesAnd can only wait and prayFor the one above the stars to help himAnd he who turned the other wayMay live a life regretting itWhich is worse than being the oneWho wasn’t cared for at allSo people of the worldForget tangible possessionsGreed, Hate, and ArroganceAre what divide usFrom the world we always wantedIn a place where all are equalLocated in an area bountiful with prosperityWhere peace in the answerAnd, when the people in the world unitePeace will find a way

Sean KeithGrade 7

Kate SchnitzerGrade 6

Inaugural Poem

Our economy is weakened as a consequence of greedOur collective failure to make hard choices

These are indicators of crisisOur journey has never been one for shortcuts.

Our schools fail manyOur health care is too costly

Homes have been lostOur journey has never been one for shortcuts.

Starting today we must pick ourselves upDust ourselves offAnd begin again

The work of remaking America.Our journey has never been one for shortcuts.

On this day we come to proclaim an end to pettygrievances and false promise. On this day

We have chosen hope over fear.Our journey has never been one for shortcuts.

The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spiritsAmerica must play its role

In ushering in a new era of peace.Our journey has never been one for shortcuts.

Greatness is never given.Everywhere we look there is work to be done

Greatness must be earned.Our journey has never been one for shortcuts.

This is the price and promise of citizenship.Rachel Josselsohn

Grade 8

WORK URL 22

Trees

Wooden sculptures that touch the clouds

With brown armsGreen fingers

And wet dirty feetSkin

Rough or softThick or thin

BodiesTall or shortFat or slim

Many thick arms peel off the bodyReaching for the sun

Sticky bloodPumping

ThroughoutThe body

Headed towardThe arms

The fingersNice

BrightShade of green

SometimesThey lose

All their bloodThey turn

BrownCrumple up

And dieTheir many feet

Are wovenUndergroundConstantlyDrinking up

WaterWet

MuddySmooth

Zachary ZlatinGrade 6

Georgian Bay

Bay of OntarioShining in the moonRefreshing wind blowing in my facePushing my hair backWind blows as Canadian flags blow like long lost friends

Distantly the city lightsShining in the dark waterMoon makes a brilliant bridge across the waterFishing boats are like airplanes in the windBirds are floating like clouds in the dark sky

Waves wash onto the shoreWet sand squishing under my feetFeeling of tranquilityWalking up the dockLittle minnows swimming in a dancing parade

Diving into the warm waterThe feeling is refreshingAfter the long day in the sunWaves splash on to meGetting my hair wet as I swim

Canadian geese are honkingStill flying in a V shapeChasing the bright moonUntil they disappear in the night skyDeer are running along the bushesStaring as though I were a shark in the dark water

Bonfires are lit in every directionCasting fires in the still waterSmell of wood burningFamily and friends are laughingTelling stories of scares and embarrassmentBonfires are lifeNever fading out, the smell and sound of happiness

Jacqui HebnerGrade 7

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A Journey of No Return

Humbled by the taskGrateful for the trustMindful of the sacrifices:The words spoken amidst gathering cloudsAnd raging storms.NowIs a sapping of confidenceA nagging fearThat America will no longer be great.And The challenges we face are real.They are serious.They are many.We will not face them easilyOr in a short time.But they will be met.BecauseHope over fearUnity over discordAnd purpose over chaosAre our ideals.AmericaIs bigger than the sum of ambitionsBigger than differencesUndivided by wealth or birth.America is our journeyAnd we return to our truths.

Andrea Ditkoff Grade 8

A girl sitting next to me in English classOn a blue chair attached to a desk like mine

With dark blue jeans from Ralph Laurenand a pink shirt

Her jeans tucked in her UggsThe brown hair she has put into a ponytail

Dark brown eyes always shine like the sun andfull of dreams and happiness

Tennis and gymnastics, her favorite activities But the best is cheerleading

Her red English binder sits on her desk andso does her pencil case with millions of highlighters

Everything around her turns brightLike she turned on Christmas light decorations

A girl asked her if she could borrow one of her pencilsShe is smiling and the world already knows the answer

Her smile, the greatest gift in the worldOf course, is contagious

Now she is holding a pencil, ready to take notesWe turn our heads to face each other

She smiles at me and I smile backWhenever our classmate says something funny

We look at each other and we giggleWhen we hear bad news we feel bad together

She is just another girl in sixth gradeBut a lot more than that to me

Haruka OnoGrade 6

Caroline GoldGrade 8

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Lullaby

Softly sung,to the little young,

that has memories that have clung.The sweet tune,

that lingers in your ear till noon,and until the new moon.Bringing back memories,

like the fresh autumn breeze,the tear in the eye is pulled by these.

A gentle rhyme,happiness chimes,

oh, sing it one more time?Puts you to bed,

Your tender pillow where you lay your head,sweet dreams are up ahead.

Hush little baby,close your eyes maybe.

Drift to your castle of dreams,where rainbows gleam,

and joy is extreme.“A dream is a wish your heart makes,”

a place with no mistakes,and no hearts break.

Swept away,from the long day,

taken to this amazing display.Smiles and laughter,

with nothing bad coming after.I wish to stay in this warm place,

but I am woken by a soft stroke on my face.The song is done,

it seemed as if this tune had just begun,“Goodnight moon, goodnight sun.”

Hush little baby,close your eyes maybe.

Emily BochnerGrade 8

Summers in Cape Cod

The four-hour drivePlaying Travel Bingo,Family conversation,

Movie watching,Naps,

Pit stops to McDonalds.

Finally we arrive at the beach house.Our usual room with the country wood

furniture,Overlooking Nantucket Bay.

The sliding glass doorsOpening to the beach.

We walk onto the white soft sand.It is dark out, but the stars

Are shining bright.The moon has a soft glow.

We roll up our pantsAnd venture near the water.

We hear the familiar soundOf our parents calling to be careful.

My siblings and IStanding there, facing the water.

Our mother nears us,She takes out her camera.

She wants to captureJust the right moment,

For, hopefully,This will be our Christmas photo.

Alexandra NaclerioGrade 6

Relief is a faint purpleIt sounds like the swoosh of the basket, seconds before the buzzer in the championship game

It smells like your dog when he finds his way back home after running awayIt tastes like the popcorn you eat when you get to the movies just before it closes

Relief feels like the weight of the world being lifted off of your shoulders.

Sydney WaldmanGrade 6

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Winter Walk

I walk outsideOn a cold December day

The first thing I seeThe bare branches

Like a skeleton’s hand.Bold sign:

“Private Property. No Trespassing.”Lying on a gray, stone step

A half full Dasani water bottle.Bright yellow school bus

Goes rumbling down the road,Huffing and chugging.

Birds chirpBreak the still silence.

Another bold sign:“Butler House”

A lonely, green Notre Dame sweatshirtPerched on the bike rack.

A silver airplane soars overhead.One solitary ballIn a sea of green.

The glint of the sun reflectsOn the cars.

Proud American flagBillowing in the wind.

“No Parking. Fire Lane.”Cars whizzing past

Honk! Beep! from the trucks.Up the hill

Lollipop trees with scrawny trunks.The towering weeping willow

The branchesGolden fireworks on a December day.

Sitting tree with fingernails like witches’ clawsRunny noses, rosy cheeks,Glaring, radiant sunlight,

Through the heavy, green door.Sudden warmth hits my face

Squinting in the dim light.Echo of voices in the vast hall.

Rainbow of art.Pen ink flowing.

Coat traps the heat.So different from the outside.

Julia PhoonGrade 8

Winter Walk

Skeletal fingers reach out to grab me.I lean away

But the icy wind whips my face.Cold, rosy cheeks

Bright red ears,The last place you would come to be warm

Is the arctic that is here.Grass,

Still greenAnd waiting for snow,

That is sure to fallWhich everyone knows.

The soft, clean white clouds,They’re shying away,

Leaving the town,With a clear, frigid day.

Bright sun leaves its mark for meMy eyes are now sore

As a I glance away from its glare.A blue sky,

A bright sun, a warm room,My walk is done.

Taylor YuGrade 8

Melanie NormanGrade 7

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Oliver ShenbergGrade 6

Editorial StaffAndrea DitkoffMelinda GarciaRachel JosselsohnSarah Pullman

Faculty AdvisorPeggy Fox

English DepartmentJim AndreskiLisa BryanAlex CampbellKathleen ConnonDenise DelBalzoBrian FisherJanie FitzgeraldPeggy FoxCara HillerJonathan HilpertMarjorie RossMarci RothmanTrish SerafinDavid Wixted

Special ThanksMichael McDermottRochelle HaugeDuncan WilsonDenise CassanoLinda FisherCarla LichtySuzanne Seiden and the Scarsdale Middle School PTA

Cover PhotographTaylor Solomon, Grade 8

Chris KatchisGrade 8

Connor PascaleGrade 7

Many thanks to Ken Holvig for his efforts to help us produce

our first on-lineLiterary Magazine!

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