salt
on potatoes
livening them up
salt on the road
melting black ice
salt in a block
feeding deer
are you worth your salt?
like potatoes and black ice?
do you enjoy your salt
like the deer?
In remembrance of 9/11/2001
A skyline, once two-headed,
a postcard promise.
I saved it,
that future view,
my feet on the ground,
neck craned back,
in the shadow of steel giants.
They took the dream first.
Not just the view,
not just the towers,
but the postcard, torn.
The future became a past I never lived.
I saw them fall,
and a part of me fell with them.
My anger, a hot fire,
against the smoke,
the dust that buried my dream.
The broke the glass of the window I was looking through,
shattered the symbol,
Left an empty space.
But the broken glass became a mirror.
And in it, I saw us,
not broken, but reflecting.
A million faces,
not shattered, but hardened.
Holding each other up,
in the place where the towers used to be.
The dream changed,
it became something new.
A different kind of strength,
forged in the space where the twin towers stood,
built not of steel, but of spirit.
We were not broken,
we were made stronger.
we were supposed to sing the song as a duet, Pa and me
he is a rooster, which means cocky and ornery as can be
I did my best on this song, starting out on the low C key
Pa sang it double time as if we were flying to Kentucky
I got louder, my way of getting back at this pompous he
Pa got louder, stunning radio people in WH3
My mother had seen this as she watched our eggs three
You two need a vacation she said, get on to Tennessee
Why that state? Asked Pa, who was irritated with me
Isn’t that your home state? answered my mother to he
Kentucky, he said. Let’s go, he added, nodding to me.
we came home with a basket full, egg count twenty-three.
big balloon-like bouncy Barney B. bear
Came out of the bushes from practically no where
His nose had led him straight to this buzzing bee hive
He hesitated a few minutes when he counted thirty-five
The bees are in a tizzy, he thought, who stirred them up?
Did he have his bee suit? No. It was being let out by Buttercup
Buttercup was Barney’s bubbly, bounteously beautiful wife.
Barney dove into the bees for honey, for he only had one life.
Fine face is a mirror, A good smile is its arc, Courage is its armour, Emotion is its architect
kraken bagged his first clipper ship on a Monday afternoon.
I love the feel of it in the bag, he told his cousin Swoon.
Swoon thought that keeping a ship in a bag was bad luck.
He asked how the creatures would breathe, but
Kraken did not give a gut
William Wee the whacky walrus from Waikiki
brought along a book, a banana and a ukelele
the book was about aliens, he was creeped out about them
the banana was rotten in places, we cut it down on a whim
the ukelele was great, and William Wee’s singing voice fine
He sang songs to us all day, I believe I counted twenty-nine
You cannot say he is not a party all by himself, my dad said.
William Wee was humble and shy; his ears promptly turned red
flower faerie with the striped socks is fine
We watched her bless our garden all down the line
The tulips loved her as did the daisies and the tiger lily.
Frankly said Marigold, her socks look rather silly.
the desserts were bragging they had stolen my tooth
It was cake and ice cream, both hailed from Duluth
They were obscene, bragging with outrageous smiles
I wanted them to go away, at least a hundred miles
I knew they had taken other teeth from me too
I had lost several to cavities, and it made me blue
The desserts were boasting they had stolen from me
I wanted them to fall off the edge and end up in the sea
three aliens camped out in the desert in the heat of the day
Their skin which had been green, turned a tiny bit more gloomily gray
They were huddled around a campfire or was it a TV?
I tried to tiptoe past them, hoping their intentions were friendly
One of them pointed and my head began to twirl around my neck
It rotated three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle, what the heck?
the aliens laughed; one of them handed me a tin full of beer
I did not dare reject it, because I was now trembling with fear
funny stories were told in their alien language, which I did not know.
I was relieved at two thirty-five a.m. when they finally let me go.
they had a giggle that clued me as to when I should laugh
I ran all the way home to hug my cuddly, a furry giraffe.
Everything is ducky in their house I bet
I turned and saw the twins – Annie and Annette
Wearing duck hats and ducks on their feet
With dour expressions, they never look sweet
Sure, just ducky I agreed and we all had a laugh
The elephant, raccoon, me and the giant giraffe
Annie and Annette have been grumpy since day one.
I do not think they have even once had a bit of fun
The fact that they dress in ducks is amusing to us
They look stupidly silly, said a sloth name of Gus
He rarely comments, said the elephant’s daughter.
I smiled myself as these grumps came out of the water.
Wearing ducks as if to say everything is ducky
When their expressions always say the world is yucky
The contrast brought a bit of a smile on me
Then they turned and dove back into the Indian Sea.
Sheila lives in more than one world, traveling with delight
Yesterday she was in the Orient, flying a gorgeous Japanese kite
Today she traveled down the Amazon, petting black pumas on her way
An avid reader, Sheila journeys a new world, each and every day
Every book she opens is a potential notch off her bucket list.
Today a faerie castle popped out in a lovely lavender mist.
Sheila learns more in her chair than most travelers know to do.
She has been around the world many times, maybe twenty-two.
the fork thought the knife and spoon were against her
A conspiracy was in the works, their mission impure
She used her ring finger and accused them of a conspiracy
The spoon pointedly ignored her and stirred up his green tea
The knife was not as wise as the spoon and argued most of the day
It seemed to give them satisfaction said the spoon named Gray.
They are used to arguing, it is their way to be romantic he thought.
He had heard his parents scraping and hissing since he was a tot.
Charise, the sewer, made a marvelous potato bag
What will she use it for the sink asked a dish rag.
I think she’ll put potatoes in it, but this is only a guess.
Maybe she’ll put spoons in it, suggested the watercress.
They held their breath, wondering who would win the bet.
That afternoon, the bag was filled up to her neck and was set.
Potatoes! yelled the dish rag; I was right, I have won!
An argument ensued, which ruined all the fun.
rainbow zebra was outrageously out
he pranced and wiggled his tail about
proud of his quirky ways and his unique design
a quintessential artist; I am glad he is mine.
Specific Types of 6Th Grade Poems
Definition | What is 6Th Grade in Poetry?
Poems Related to 6Th Grade
12th grade, 11th grade, 10th grade, 9th grade, 8th grade, 7th grade, 5th grade, 4th grade, 3rd grade, 2nd grade, 1st grade, middle school, school