a Jabberwocky variation


by Kosmo R-W at age 11


‘Twas falling and dark as night

didn’t end, it seemed the rabbit hole,

All eat and drink me were the bottle and the cake

and the white gloves and fan were forgotten.


Beware the Cheshire Cat, my son,

with invisibility and ghostly grins.

Beware the Queen of Hearts

and shun the goofball Billy.


She took her mushroom bits in hand

long time she’d had the jolt.

So stood he on the mushroom top,

and stood a long while and thought.


And meanwhile, as he thought,

the Dutchess with bars of fake

went mumbling through the Tolgey Woods

and grumbled as she came.


One two, one two, and through and through

the croquet cane went snicker-snack

he could have left it dead but with his hat

he forgot to scamper home.


And hast you had a sentence without a verdict

No hip or hooray, such bad luck of the knave,

All the fault of that queen

and the twinkling of the Hatter’s tea.


‘Twas falling and dark as night

didn’t end, it seemed the rabbit hole,

All eat and drink me were the bottle and the cake

and the white gloves and fan were forgotten.



by Samantha A. at age 10


A big muddy hole

Stands outside our house

The yard I used to play on

Is covered in truck tracks

Muck and torn up grass


The first day

They came

In old t-shirts

With overalls and hammers

At their side


Then a big white trailer appeared

Piled high

With all our basement stuff


As the renovation moved on

We set off for Maine

To get a break

From dust, dirt

Nails and


That now surrounded

Our once cozy house


When we got back

The kitchen

Was looking good

Just a few more

Nails and the flooring would be done


And now

With all the dust, dirt

And awful smelling fumes

Cleaned up, wiped away

And hammered in our memories

Our house is cozy once again.

How to See Peace


by Bailey S. at age 11


Find a field

Far away,

From cities or pavement walkways.


Lay by

Old farms,

And quiet dirt roads.


Lay there,


Still as the flowers in the meadow.


Peace is memory foam,

If you move,

It doesn’t come.


Clear your mind,

Of problems, frustrations,

And just lay.


Watch the waxwing,

Absorbing the red

Juice berries.


Feel gravity,


Feel your connection with earth.


Think of you,

With your favorite thing,

In that field.


Now close your eyes,

And let your mind carry you,

You have found true peace.

Fall of Lana


by Ezekiel B. at age 11


I was amazed.

What I saw

Was huge



And jagged

With lots of water falling

Down and down.

The water falling made me think

It would never stop.

Staring at it

Time went by.

It was like

An endless hour glass.

The Fire of the Grand Old Hall


By Carter M. at age 10


The Grand Army of Republic Hall,

Sat like a statue

Across from my grandparent’s house.

Finally with a purchase

They made it theirs.



Voices, in my dreams

Wait, no not in my sleep

It’s my parents fully awake.


I get up cautiously

Slip out to cold stone hallway.

My mom is crying,

Hard, asking why, why.


I slide up to them

Ask “what’s wrong”?

I am thinking did something happen

To a loved one?


“The Hall burnt”

Is the reply I get

From my weeping mom.

That explains why I heard

Her say that we had lost



Our possessions stored

From the long journey east,

California to Vermont.

We had moved,

Stored our stuff

In the once majestic Hall.


Things piled

Mountain high.

So much joy and meaning

In the shelves.

The Grand Old Hall

Was magic

To my family in so many ways.


In a state of shock

My mind is blank,

How could this happen?

All of my toys and books

My dad’s tools

The furniture, our photos

Memories from the past



The door slams.

We leave.

Still pitch black,

We are as silent as owls.


The car engine,

A quiet hum,

As we head to the burnt

Charcoal mess,

That a once roaring fire

Left behind.














by Lily R. at age 9



Where do you go

When the door opens to the huge

Outside world?


Do you go to the great woodlands

Where the pines grow so high

That you can’t see the tops?


Or do you go to the open fields

Where the grass waves

In the wind?


Wherever you go,

Please come back

To the cozy warm house.


Come back and sleep

In the soft warm bed.


Wherever you go,

Please come back.

Sluice Box


by Cole K. at age 11


I gather my equipment,

My pickaxe and sluice box,

Shovel, buckets.

I find a good spot in the fast moving

River to sluice. I set the box in the cold crisp

Water and pick up my shovel.


I sit on the soft sand.

I break the smooth rocks with my shovel

And put the soil on the sluice box.


And it washes the sand away, leaving

Black sand and glistening gold.

Then I clean the box to put in the



I dump the material into the bucket

And set off.

A good day to mine.


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