In the Morning...

On Tuesday, the students continued their work with close observation. We read the poem Morning by Mary Oliver and the students discussed concrete language and detail. I asked them to write a poem about what happens in their mornings, what they notice, see, hear, touch, and smell. They produced some very vivid descriptions of those first moments of the day. Enjoy!

My Special Morning
by Ronni L.

When I wake up, I feel
a little it scared because
once I was thinking about how
scary the wolf in the
gingerbread man story
was and out of thin air
he appeared! Me and my
sister got really, really
scared! And the wolf even
talked! He said “I’ll be
back soon” and smiled. And
then he disappeared. and
then I started to get
happy again because
sometimes my mom
makes us pancakes!
That is how my
mornings are… BOO!
THE END. bye-bye…


My Bedroom and Kitchen
by Tilda S.

My bed, with tinkerbell sheets and a soft, warm blanket. It’s really big and it’s a canopy.
My brother’s bed, a trundle bed with a football blanket with all the teams on it.
Danny rolling in his bed.
The kitchen, square-like and curvy, mostly white, with a pattern of flowers.
A big round table with five green chairs with nothing on it.
Our separate table, square and blue on the outside.
The old rocking chair in my bedroom with dark brown wood arms, the legs are the same color.
The chair cushion covered with pink, red, and white flowers and the background is tan.
The art table, yellow and red, next to the rocking chair, with lights like on the ceiling of the classroom.
The square ceiling light, as big as a piece of lined paper, with white flowers around the edges.
The wood floor, yellowish-brown and shiny.
I stand in my bedroom, sort of sleepy.


Morning
by Caelen B.

I lie in my bed
and think about funny
things, goofy things,
weird things. I race
down the ladder of my
bed. I walk tiredly out
the door into the kitchen.
As I open the door
the chill breeze blows
against my robe. I tuck
my hair behind
my ear. I go and
stick my head out
the door and let
out a good morning
scream. “That felt
good” I say to myself.
My dog Findlay runs
up to me. I kiss him
on the head and take
a big breath.


My House in the Morning
by Cecilia G.

When I lay in bed a little bit
I think what I will play with.
Maybe I will play with blond hair Barbies
or brown hair Polly Pockets and I might
even play with my very own computer.


My House in the Morning
by Nicholas M.

I wake up from my room
and then I go fast to the
kitchen, excited to know what
to eat. My dad said
Pancakes! and I go
outside to play with my
dad and throw bones to Ipy. Then I
go to my parents’ room
and I watch Barcelona soccer on TV.


The Morning on Cleveland St.
by Maple C.

Alarm clock ringing, and the pages of my brother’s book turning. Splash – someone flushes the toilet. Pancakes crackling on the griddle. Kids on their way to school, my brother in pj’s walking past my room, my mom and dad cooking breakfast. Pancakes coming off the griddle, old water, as my mom empties my brother and my water bottles, and fills them with fresh water. Sweet, sugary pancakes drenched in maple syrup. Orange juice, milk in my cereal, water to wash down my vitamins. Homework that I am shoving into my backpack, my father’s beard as he kisses me goodbye, and gives me good luck on my way to school.


Untitled
by Tessa F.

The alarm with its annoying beep.
I stretch, yawn, and flump off
the bed.
I find that my
bunny is chowing madly at his cage
trying
to break free.
I finally shuffle like an old
man reaching for
the door of the cage, click
it
opens,
the bunny runs out.
The suspense in the air is strong.
I shuffle over to the door and
go downstairs to the busy kitchen
below.


Magical Morning
by Zinnia S.

I wake up to the brilliance
of the sun, an illusion spread
before me. I smell breakfast
a mile away down the stairs.
I follow my shadow down
the stairs. I hear a “clink
clink” as a spoon gently hits
the bowl. It’s
the
beginning
of
morning.


My Chaotic Mornings
by Madeline D.

My sister,
waking up and scream
ing for
sweets

My father,
telling her
that
if
she doesn’t stop
screaming, she won’t be allowed
to have a sweet
at all.

My mother,
telling her she
can have a sweet
after breakfast.

And me waking up to
a chaotic family feeling
grumpy and usually going
back to bed after awhile.