Writing From Roseau

Poems from Tianna Espe, Peter VanderWege, Aiden Braun, Tristan Anderson, Ben Olson, Trevor Sprague, Candance Omdahl, and Clive Gordon.

Things I Didn’t Know I Loved

By Tianna Espe


As I look back to the fleeting town I grew up in

I didn’t know I loved having my sisters around

Always there to talk to


Or our tree farm

Somewhere we could go outside

And enjoy the nature

To take a break from the fake world

To get a breath of fresh air


I didn’t know I loved eating lunch with my grandparents

Every school day, listening to their silly jokes

And endless banter


I didn’t know I loved this small town

A nice space to go out

For a nature bike ride with your dog

Yet big enough to have a coffee shop


I didn’t know I loved living in northern Minnesota

Getting to go to the lake

And go fishing every weekend

If I wanted to.


Be a Star

By Tianna Espe


Be like a star

Soaking up the sunlight

Or other good things

In the day

So when night comes around

You are ready

To shine bright

You can spread your light

To different people and places

But you first have to be full of light

To give light.


Things I didn’t know I loved

By Peter VandeWege


I didn’t know I loved the howling blizzards

Outside my window on cold winters nights

I didn’t know I loved the hardened now

In late march when you can walk on it


I didn’t know I loved the smell of dirt

After tilling the garden on a hot July day

I didn’t know i loved the calluses on my hands

After months of working with an ax


I didn’t know I loved the sound of a rake

Picking through the grass for leaves

I didn’t know i loved the late night drives

Coming home from a friends house


I didn’t know I loved waking up early for school

Knowing I had something to do that day

I didn’t know I loved the bike rides on chilly mornings

Feeling the cold air on my nose


I didn’t know I loved the simplicity of life


The Western Kings

By Peter VandeWege


Marvelous, Magnificent, Mountains

Soaring to the sky

Looking down with power but lonely inside

Wanting waiting to be watched

Awaiting to be adored


The sun crests their tall peaks

The quiet trickle of the creek

The cool air caressing your face

Walking through the dry leaves

Looking for your friends the marvelous, magnificent, mountains



By: Aiden Braun


Bitter cold

Always there and not

Three years ago I felt it


The cold that seeps into bones

I was new to the Northern Star

From where I from, The Lone Star


Mostly Cold all year long

No deadly heat

How I wish for heat


The cold is always here

It never leaves

Now into my bones, forever to stay  


The Orchard

By: Aiden Braun


In the early morning

The orchard was quiet


The chickens outside

Clucking and pecking away


It was a nice place

Quiet but not dull


It was dry as always

The dirt cried for water


As the sun set the

Chickens slept.


The Wind

By: Trevor Sprague

The pitch comes in

You hear and feel the wind

Watching the ball move and wiggle

You tighten your grip on the bat

Watching the ball

You swing


The ball goes flying into the air

Running to first.

Feeling the wind pushing against you like it is an immovable barrier

Watching the ball go up and up into the air

You never see it land

Next thing you know you

Everyone is jumping up and down also cheering aloud

You’ve hit a homerun

The wind made it possible

You touch home plate

Everyone surrounding you

The greatest event in baseball was made by you.

      My Home

By: Tristan Anderson


The grass brings me back

allows me to remember


My old house, playing on days

before Church, not worrying


about the future. Swinging

with my sisters, a time


long gone. To push our red

mower around, arms aching,


maybe too far, onto a sapling.

Old tires, so meticulously stacked


under plywood, playing for

hours among the trees.


My cousins, visiting, turning

into a permanent stay. The


fun we had then, now

realized to be the


result of a bad situation.


By: Tristan Anderson


Memories, woven through everything

A sandbox, long overtaken by weeds

A garden, given up on for surplus rainfall

Underneath the house, where eight puppies were born

My bedroom, so many forts erected there

The dining room, where I learned to count

Dancing on our Wii in the living room

The driveway, missing the bus a couple times

My home, where so many memories lie.



By: Ben Olson


The fields seem so endless,

To the eye it is peaceful.


Turn around and gaze the,

Friendly town.


See the people sleep in the houses.

So peaceful yet cold to the feeling.


Watch the river flow so gloomy,

Have the soothing sounds make peace.


Watch the fish hop in the ditch,

Relax while you stair at the fair.


All the colors from the flashing lights.

On a July night wait for your tickets.


Get to a ride hand the tickets over.

For them to get ripped.


But don’t blink for summer is brief,

Summer is swift.



By: Ben Olson


Ticking away

In sequence

Minutes, seconds


Ticking away through the day,

To yet start another day.


The World

By Cadance Omdahl


Listen to the world surrounding you, encasing you

It has much to say, much to show

The birds who caw and call together

Their flight gives them a different view, a different perspective

Their travels give them knowledge we’ll never translate

The birds, crickets, and frogs who call out together

The fireflies who glitter through the dark night.


Many of the trees are wiser than you

They have lived longer

Seen more and experienced many

Although the leaves that stem from their stretching branches are fleeting

A consistent cycle that doesn’t change

The trunk is strong yet the leaves are brief.


They Feel Greed

By Cadance Omdahl


They feel greed

They feel it burning, boiling

A fear of something being unattainable

The want that nears need, coiling in their chest

An engulfing jealousy of what they don’t have, but need

A cuff-linked chain securing them to the idea of their desires

Unavoidable and unattainable, they can’t let go

They can’t let go until it belongs to them

Caught in their bruising hands

They feel greed.



By Clive Gordon


I didn’t know I loved fishing until it was gone

And I had to leave

I didn’t know I loved sports

Until there was no one to play with

I didn’t know I loved school

Until there was no 13th grade for me to be in

I didn’t know I loved Roseau

Until it was time to go and say goodbye


By Clive Gordon


Minnesota is in the fish

Minnesota the tapeworm to the fish

0 degrees

Fish in cold water

Cut into serving-sized pieces

Combine the ingredients


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s