Throwing a Frisbee
by Connor, eighth grade poet
Throwing a Frisbee
Flying back and forth
Then the wind starts
The Frisbee disappears
Weeks later
Most hope is lost
Seeming lost ever
Then a sign of hope
It is found
Hanging on a branch
Looking as high as the cloud
Really only a hop high
Holding it once more
Seeing the story it has to tell
It speaks to me
It speaks very well
It has heard the howling wind
It has listened to the morning chirps of birds
It has seen arrows of geese
It has squinted through the glare of the sun
It has smelt freshly cut grass
The smell of summer air
The taste of dry leaves
The refreshment of rain
It screams what it felt
The hail raining down
The burning of the sun
It whines about its mentality
Great feelings of freedom
Free of sweaty hands
Feeling of loneliness
All is well in the end
Now it has a friend again.
(Click here to view/print Connor and five of his classmates' poems.)