2009 Sixth Grade Winning Poems

Back to List of Winners

Wet Black Paint

Wind whistles

in my ear,

floating

through all of old Makawao town.

An aroma of

wet paint flows to my 11-year-old nose.

The pokey

dark green

grass prickles my toes.

“It’s now or never,” I think to myself.

I pick up the

cold metal painting roller.

Smothered

in black paint the roller paints,

rolling all over

light blonde hair,

bare feet, and colorful clothes.

All over my astonished friend.

by Sophie M. Janssen

6^th grade, Seabury Hall