Writing From the Road: Roseau, Minnesota

Another set of fine poems, from the 2nd hour class.  Today’s poets are Jayda MacFarlane, Luke T., Kate Dahl, Savannah H., Alika Espe, Jordyn D., Quincy Jensen, and Trevor Olsen.

That House
by Jayda McFarlane

Quiet surrounds the stairs.

Creaky cupboards make you not eat.

The remote never reverse for you.

Father says fine, but she says stop.

You go up the not-so-slippery stairs

to get away, but you feel watched

every minute you are there.


By Luke T.

I set the blocks

And get settled in.

While I wait, I inspect the competition.

They all look calm and collected

While I’m nervous and shaking,

My veins full of adrenaline.

My teammates chant encouragement.

The gun goes off.


Big Blue Lake
By Kate Dahl

Big blue lake

Tall green trees

Endless sandy beach

Bright blue sky

Big yellow sun

I’m lying on the beach

Burning to a crisp

knowing it’ll turn

to a nice tan.

Peaceful days at the lake.


By Savanah H.

Some are big, but yet small

Full of color full of joy

Laughter surrounds them all

Little curious footsteps run around

Trying to catch them

Before they hit

The ground.


By Alika Espe

They all smile

As the candles

Are being

Blown out.

A smile

On her face

As they ask

What she wished for.

She will not tell.

For maybe the wish

Won’t come true.


I Miss
By Jordyn D


I miss going to see you

Going to your house

Smelling cookies in the air.

I miss playing cards and

Playing games outside

Your house. I miss

Helping plant flowers

With so many bright colors.


I miss holding your hand

And you giving me advice.

I will remember

Your last breath. Every

Now and then

I go to your gravestone

Remembering what we did.

I miss you every day.


The Trap
By Quincy Jensen



Sitting on a rock


Evening coming to an end

The tree still flourishing in the sunlight


He run up to the tree

The wind in his furry face


The smell of grilled brats

Lingers, does not fade.


A branch small and cut away

From the rest


Milo going out

The bending branch




He falls

Pointed rocks underneath him


He struggles to stay on

The branch with just his front paws.


He twists

He falls.


And climbs down the tree trunk.

Safe from the trap.


It is Like This
By Trevor Olsen

There when the dawn opens

With the door to the stand

Just like the stand of jackpines

Surrounding it. The propone

Tank upon the platform

The heater warming

The windows, the fog

On the windows like frost

On the ground,

There is also the crunch

Of a branch as you watch

The doe and fawns play.

It is like this there, when

The time comes the balsam

And birch sway

Right when you’re getting

Ready to shoot.
It is like this there.

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