Creative Writing: Why Am I Doing This Again (Theme for English B)

Remind Me Why I’m Doing This

I went home and wrote

I let the page come out of me

I did as I was told

Though it doesn’t seem too good

Mom had me go to the store with her

She had me drive the van

It was the first time I drove in awhile

And it felt great

We got home and I cleaned the van

Wheelbarrows full of junk

From plywood to trash

That was a lot of stuff

I’m now sitting here typing this poem

And wondering why this power cord won’t light

It’s charging but not lighting

Why?

And I’m tired

It’s only six o’clock

Why am I so tired?

Let’s get this done quick

So I can go to bed

My brothers are growling at me and each other

I might growl too if I don’t get some sleep

Mom’s threatening to send them to bed

I’ll gladly go in their place

My eyes feel heavy

I can barley keep them open

Good thing I’m at the table

And not out on the road

Things aren’t as difficult as they might seem

Like driving a van, cleaning my room

Staying awake or getting some sleep

Or typing this poem for English B

Creative Writing: My Little Piece of Heaven

My Piece of Heaven

I climb through the window

And out on the porch roof

I lay on the shingles

Nice and warm by the sun

I hear the highway below me

But it’s just a whisper

I watch the clouds past

And play charades with them

A hog truck dives past

But I don’t notice the smell

The sunlight shimmers

Off the pond across the street

I close my eyes

Breathing in the warm air

Nothing will bother me

Up here with the clouds

Soon I’ll have to come down

And chase little kids

Mow the yard

And clean up the garage

But I won’t worry about that yet

This time is mine

My Piece of Heaven

Creative Writing: Brett's Insane Life

Brett’s Insane Life

Brett

Considerate, Rude, Smart, Stupid

Brother of a zoo full (ten to be exact)

Who loves writing, music

Trains, Music

Food and music

Did I mention he loves music?

Who feels that America is great,

But needs to get her head on straight

That people don’t use common sense

Instead, They watch T.V.

Who needs the right to express himself?

In anyway he wants to

A family to love him

And a truck

Who gives plenty of thought

To life, religion, and family

To things in general

Who fears where our nation is headed

Where he will go for college

And what he will do with his life

Who would like to see his sister in Utah

A politician that cares about the people they serve

And himself as a father someday

Who is a resident of Washington

(Others say Waterloo, Dysart or Dubuque)

Plants (Half Frisbie)

Creative Writing: Young Railroader

Young Railroader

“Daddy, what’s this thing?” I ask.

“That’s a switch.”

“What’s it do?”

“It lets the train move from on track to another.”

“Why would a train need to do that?”

“The different tracks go to different places.”

“Oh,” I say. “Where’s this track go to?”

“That goes to the round house.”

“I don’t see a round house.”

“I haven’t built it yet.”

I still don’t get it, but Daddy doesn’t seem to like me asking questions. I’ll be quiet. What if I go exploring? Daddy’s got lots of train things in here. I’ll go find a train.

I go on to find a train. I walk around the train room. Uh-oh, I can’t see the top anymore. Hey look, there’s a stool. I’ll stand on it. There, now I can see. There’s still no train. I see buildings.

I’m bored. I’ll go to my room to play. I walk up the stairs to my room. I empty out my strawberry toy box. Hey look, I found my trains. Here’s Thomas, and Percy, and James, and Toby, and I can’t remember this one’s name, and Gordon. I’ve got an idea. I’ll take these down to the train room. Daddy’ll be happy I know where a train goes. They go on the tracks.

I pick up my trains. Uh-oh. I drop some. I pick them up and they drop again. I’ll have to take one down. I’ll take Percy. No, I’ll take James. No, I’ll take Thomas. I can’t remember this one’s name, so I’ll leave him here. I’ll take Gordon. He’s big and strong. Just like Daddy’s trains.

I run down the stairs with Gordon and set him on the tracks. He’s pulling a really fast passenger train. But I don’t have any coaches. Here’s some of Daddy’s coaches. I open the boxes and put the coaches behind Gordon.

Daddy comes around the corner and sees what I’m doing. Daddy’s not so happy. Maybe Gordon doesn’t belong on Daddy’s tracks.

Creative Writing: I Am A Van

For this assignment we were supposed to take something that we were not and write a poem pretending we were the item. I chose our van.

I am a van

A 15-passenger van

I’m a Chevy of course

Little children climb in and out of me

Constantly

With little respect for me

My door is broken

My window tied shut

But I’m well loved by the older children

And the adults

They start me up

I whine at first but finally give in

The mother’s pleading get under my skin

I’m quite reliable really

I haul kids around all day

I’m used as a truck

To haul things away

People watch out for me when I’m on the road

I can’t fit on the smaller streets

Like at Sunset Park

I’m used all day

But it’s ok

I’m often sadden

To see all my friends at home in the driveway

Just sit there and rust

Can’t run, Can’t start

Miss Saturn missing a fender

And her brother without a clutch

My brother with no life at all

And Mr. Box Truck with wiring problems

I’ve spent my time there

Not running as well

But the family fixed me

They need me too much

But my friends are left behind

To rust or get towed away

I’ve seen pickups and panel trucks go

Where to I do not know

I hope the don’t do that to me

They wont though

They need me too much

I’m used everyday

While my friends all rust away

I feel guilty that I can still here

The father says “Someday they will run”

But they never do

He’s never here

I sit in this drive with nothing to do

But talk to my friends

And bring back the news

“I went to Wal-Mart today”

I tell all of them

They haven’t been there

They don’t know what it’s like

“It’s not much really

Just sit in a lot and wait for the groceries”