Writing From Roseau

Here we go.  Places..

It is like this
By Jayden Warne


There are people outside still around the fire.

There are kids playing night games.

The smell of hot dogs still lingers in the fire’s smoke.

There are many frogs.

But few geese heard at night.

I’m lying in comfort in my sleeping bag

Remembering it all.


It is like this
By Jace Hulst


There are trees all around

animals running throughout

only I am walking here.

I go down the trail

And see a deer to my right.

I keep walking farther in

I look at the leaves and see dew drops

Walking through the woods

I hear branches break

It’s a rabbit running.

I keep walking through the woods

Hearing the wind whistle.


By Adria Peters


His hands spoke to me.

They told me stories

About happiness


And hatred.

His hands told me

About his hardships.

His hands were

Like his heart

Holding life’s secrets.


Like this
By Jacob Kallis


Lily pads lingering above glass

Pointing towards the falls.

Mist spreading across pine forests

Enhancing the cool pine smell.

Deer dancing in a hollowed meadow

Disturbing the dandelions.


As a Young Girl
By Anika Stoskopf


Running into the apartment

Early in the morning

Smelling the caramel  rolls

Turning the radio on

Giving great-grandma Lil a bear hug

Playing hide-and-go-seek with cousins.


It is like this
By Matthew VandeHey


People never look at me to see me.

People look to see themselves or others.

They always see to look through me and when

they are done, cover me, so they don’t have to see

the light I bring them. They always end up breaking me.

I am a window.


It is like this
By Jesicah Pringle


The door that is bright yellow.

It groans as you open it.

The floor, new, yet old with wear

Is marked with the feet of family.


The tree with branches that touch the grass.  Its leaves, fingers, rest on my shoulders.

The swing-set, the birds nest on. The slide

Its sway in the wind, the most movement in years.


By Presley Dahlgren


I have been to Missouri once or twice but that time that I was there was a amazing. The air is fresh and nice and the days are always warm and sunny. And if you are quiet in the morning you can hear the gobbling of the turkeys and the owl’s hooting. The calm breeze in the background. The river’s calm, the fish jumping and swimming below.


By Matthew VandeHey


The smell of morning air

The quiet of the dark

Moving silently to get to the stand.

The light slowly increasing over the hours.

Sitting still


The echo of birds singing

The rustling of grass as the animals wake up

The sight of a deer

The end of a hunt.


By Adria Peters


Crowded. Packed. Surrounded by

Screaming girls. Flashing lights.

Igniting the booming venue. Singing.

Live. So absorbed by the moment.

Jumping. Swaying. Singing along.

Nothing is better than this.


I Roam
By Kalliann Solberg


I roam through this

Huge pasture all day.

I jump with joy when

I get to come out.

Love when we go on

A long trail ride.

Of course stopping for

Breaks here and there

Apple treats.


The Trumpet
By Kyle Erickson


The trumpet takes a rest

Preparing for his entrance

He tells of an adventure

Of battles being fought.

He whispers quietly

Tickling our ears.

He runs a race

Up and down hills

Singing of many places.

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