Writing From the Road: Roseau, Minnesota

Poems from 4th hour, by Katelyn Kopstad, Jodi O., Brodie, Grace Walsh, Tal H., Dylan Crabtree, Ben Lund, Grace Dunham, Daniel Johnson, and Madicyn Holmgren.

New Shoes
By Katelyn Kopstad

Overwhelming amounts of shoes

A rainbow of colors

Charts of sizes

Wedges and flats

Sandals and boots

Laces and straps.

My eyes lead me

From one pair to another

Then I spot

The blue strappy sandals.

A pile of change later

And pat of mom’s paycheck

I got my shoes.

 

Running Shoes
By Jodi O.

My shoes are running or walking all the time

Never sleeping.

They sneak out at night and stargaze

Like a teenager.

My shoes come back when the yellow ball rises

Waiting for me at the doorstep.

Always dirty

But happy to see me

They say good morning with a smile

My shoes run over,

Excited to start the day.

In the time it takes for

My shoes to sprint 10 meters

They are on my feet.

We walk together and run.

At school they get impatient

Always whining to me

“to much sitting, let’s run”

They’re smiling, waiting for me

To say yes

I look down

And shrug

I can hear them

Cry

The bell rings happy that we get to move.

I can hear them laughing

Giggling

Saying hi to other shoe friends.

The day ends just as fast

As it started.

I always thank them for carrying me on

My feet.

They smile “sleep tight”

And off they go to look at the stars.

 

You Can’t See it
By Brodie

You can’t see it

You feel it

Little jerks

And then a bite

Set the hook

Reel it in

Take a picture

Throw it back.

 

The Dead Barn
By Grace Walsh

You can hear the animals’ noises from the dead barn.

I remember my first horses’ hooves clacking

Across the cement.

I see the baby chicks peeping from that old box.

Mice would hide in the hay, playing games with the cat.

Oh how I remember the calves staying lose to their mothers.

It all happened in that old dead barn. Oh the lives

That depended on it.

 

Memorial Arena
By Tal Halliday

The crowd chants

The game is tied

The clock is counting down

Twenty-three, twenty-two

The player shoots the puck,

Ping! Off the pipe.

They get the rebound

He shoots, he scores

Top left corner

The crowd cheers

The game concluded

Roseau wins.

 

When Time Stopped
by
Dylan Crabtree

I was driving my four-wheeler when

Time stopped.

So I looked around to see what

The heavens made. I saw the pretty green

On trees ad on the ground. After that

I looked higher to see the birds fly

In the air and as I stared the sun

Looked like a flare floating across the sky

In this moment in time.

 

Still
By Ben Lund

Still, everything still.

I feel a tug on the end of my line.

I think to myself, could this be the one?

In a split second, you set the hook

Nothing, it’s gone.

I wonder what it could have been?

How big was it?

I will never know.

 

Do or Die
By Daniel Johnson

The puck is on the goal line

It’s do or die

Do you push it in

And celebrate uncontrollably?

Or do you miss

And go home and cry.

At this moment, your heart

Is racing

The crowd is buzzing

Your team is standing

At this moment

It’s do or die.

 

Bittersweet
By Jodi O.

Smells like spring.

Snow is melting

And grass is turning green.

I can hear birds chirping and

The sound of basketballs.

It’s warm enough for a t-shirt

Not shorts.

Light breeze

White puffy clouds in the sky.

They’re all standing there, basketballs in hand,

Laughing.

Smiling

Having a good time.

Dribbling the ball across the way

I look at them and think

I’m going to miss

Everything.

 

Badlands
By Grace Dunham

Jagged rock sticking

Up for miles.

Winding through

The park on crummy tar.

An occasional big horn

Or black tail.

Crawling to the top, to

Look out and see

A never-ending landscape

Of rock piercing the sky.

All of a sudden it stops.

Prairie begins.

 

Like This
By Madicyn Holmgren

The grass is green.

Animals roaming around.

We climb a fence

To watch the cattle feed.

The barns are freshly painted

That tomato red.

We run to the kitchen

Smelling of cookies.

We grab one or maybe

Two and a tall glass of milk

Then we run to the swing

And push each other

We play for hours.

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