Poetry at ESMS

Graphic of a tree with branches with the word POETRY under it.  

Our ESMS Poetry Club gathers weekly to write, share and publish poetry
It’s a wonderful creative space for young poets to embrace their inner talent
Here is a sampling of their creations


School Year 2019-2020

Ugochinyere Agbaeze (7th Grade)

It waits for something to happen,
A word or a phrase, or even a description of one’s gaze,
An action, or a saying,
Something to be written.

It waits for creation, thousands upon thousands of things
Worlds upon worlds
Given birth from sheer imagination,
Vast emotions from sadness to joy,
Calm to bellowing anger, many things happening
All at once, as the feel of imagination surges
Through the pen as new worlds come
To life!

Then, a pause.
Everything comes to a stop.
No more life, no emotion. Each world coming to a stop as the paper becomes lifeless.
Everything comes to an end. Ideas dried out,
everything died out.

It waits for another,
Waiting for someone to give what it has been
Waiting for another to give it,


The Gizzard
By Lola Kravitz (6th Grade)

I work and toil through the day
I work the night away.
Yet three sons reside
In our home, but why must I
labor throughout the night?

So one is lost at sea
Trying to provide for me
Another is a carpenter
And yet the hammer strikes he.
All that is left is one son
A hunter who provides the meat.
But still, must I
labor throughout the night?

I am the faithful son
Always at your side
But when dawn comes
A beast I must hide.
Is it right
To not look, but just

In the forest peaceful,
I am alone with no people
And only the trees as company
The leaves glisten emerald with dew
And the birds chirp as my muse.
Is it always right
To not look, but just

But when I set upon a bird
Silken feathers
Dainty gait
I know that death
Cannot be its fate.
With silver eyes
The rich man’s pet
I know that coins
Will I beget.
The vain man’s pet
This bird
The gizzard
Will the opportunity
Soon be met?

So to home it goes
Eyes of a doe
I tell mother, promise
That while residing in our humble home
The bird shall not be reduced to a bone..
And so
For many days
The bird resides
In our cage.
If the opportunity
Will soon be met?

I see a rich man’s
Baleful gaze
Does he mean to stay there
In that haze?
He asks for water
But he wants it not
He asks for my hand in marriage
And my cheeks grow hot.
A bird’s gizzard?
What price is that to me?
This man has offered
To draw me out of poverty.
What price is that to me?

Impertinent son!
He cannot see
His bird in the pot
Or his obedience
Will come to naught.
The songbird
Which sings so prettily
Its gizzard?
What price is that to me?

Rumors fly with the swiftness of the wind
But surely not its grace
My mother to be wed?
Without telling it to my face?
Surely rich nor poor cannot change
Within the space
Of a day?
What price will this be
For me?
In the humble home
My stomach does not
Cease to groan.
A three-legged pot
The fragrance of cooking food
Awakens my hunger
After all, it is just a pinch
It will do me no harm
What price
Is that to me?

Silken feathers
Dainty gait
I know that death
Cannot be its fate.
With silver eyes
The rich man’s pet
I know that coins
Will I beget.
The vain man’s pet
This bird
The gizzard
Will the opportunity
Soon be met?

Sauntering through
A title displayed proudly upon my brow
Nothing can change
The luck bestowed to me
It is no price, no price at all to me
Or is it?

Ungrateful son,
Disobedient boy,
Imposing upon my home.
Could you not bear that it was me
That for once the golden light of luck shone?




The girl who stood on a grave
by Tessa Kolovarsky (7th Grade)

She was dared the stand
By command
On a grave
As proof she was brave

Boys and girls, in the dark
They stood near a death park

“Someone said
If you stand on a grave, during the night
The person inside will pull you down, with all their might”

A girl was dared to stand on the grave
And stick a knife in the soil
As proof she did it, and didn’t spoil

She walked towards the deceased
The terror increased
She felt this was the end of her life
She stabbed the knife
Through her skirt
Down to the dirt
Pinning her down
She couldn’t move around

She felt her feet sink
She couldn’t think
She didn’t breathe
She lied there, never to be seen

Why would she do the dare?”
Just to show that she could handle a scare?



The Pig At The Candy Store
By Rinoha Isetani (6th Grade)

There was a pig
In his perfect bed,
Fluffy, soft, unbelievable
That loved candy
The pig had wings
Of spun sugar
His dreams grow tall
As he flies through marshmallow clouds
To a glowing marzipan moon
You will get to eat candy soon
I’m sure about that
Why dream of such a thing?

When he looks up at the sky
He sees chocolate kisses with sparkling foil
Then your eyes open to a plain world
Your dreams make you jump right off your bed
You think of candy instead
What did it do?

You want candy
You want it right now
And you know you need it
Your mouth waters
The watering doesn’t stop it only gets worse
Like a faucet turned on and never turned off
What did the candy do?

With no hesitation or second thoughts
You run to the candy dish
But there’s nothing inside, its empty
Just the wrapper
The pig decides to go to the candy store
Because you want more
What did the candy do?
You remember that candy is bad for you
It makes you fat
It gives you gas and heartburns
What did the candy do?

Since you are over halfway there
You might as well go there and finish the journey
“A few peppermints wont hurt me!”
The more the pig went closer to the store,
His mouth watered even more
Now, like a waterfall
“Maybe a small bag of gumdrops as well!”
Isn’t it too much?

Every step you took,
You shook
You want candy so badly
You are getting closer and closer
Your mouth waters even more and more
Do you want candy that much?

But the candy store was closed
“On vacation” it says on a sign
Your watery mouth suddenly stops
You decide to go home
A locked door can rip your temptation like the candy that was there but not anymore
Now what happens?

That day
You didn’t eat a single piece of candy
That night, you ate vegetable salad
And fresh cold milk
You feel pretty thin
No gas or heartburn
A locked door can rip your temptation
See? You don’t need candy.



Empty Page
By Jude Camilleri (6th Grade)

It waits for the people who were unspoken
So that freedom could be heard
Civilizations come together
Fly like a bird

It waits for the plastic to come out of the water
So the earth could take a deep breath

It waits for people to make a change
So the others don’t suffer

It waits for the people keep on not telling others fake answers
So that we can find the real answer




The Ballad of Drama
By Sasha Hammel (8th Grade)

To whom it may concern,
there’s an old fable
Of a woman called Mary Busby
(by the way, doesn’t that totally sound like it should be “Mary Busy”?)

A scientist does science,
A teacher teaches,
A paralegal paralegals
And Mary Busby… shoplifts?

Picture it: 1882. October. New York City.
It’s fast. A rush.
Person next to her has green stuff in pocket.
Can you predict what happens?

Flashforward. Sentenced to jail for six months.
Jury sees her guilty.
Judge sees her guilty.
But does she?

Flashback. Her childhood.
Terrible upbringing. No money.
Bad schooling. Poorly educated.
Okay, that’s untrue, but doesn’t it add drama?

Flash even further back. Creation of the universe.
Mary Busby is God.
Writes Pitpocketer’s Guide To Money Making.
(get it?)

And this is where the story concludes.
Today, she… well, she’s dead
But the last thing she did was sit in jail
What can we all learn from the old fable of Mary Busby?


 Mary Mack by
Michael Sacca (7th Grade)
( from the book 1886 Professional Criminals in America by Inspector Thomas Byrnes)

Mrs. Mary Mack was 25
She had brown hair and hazel eyes
She traveled the states for the last 2 years
She sneaked and shoplifted while drinking beers
Will her reign of stealing ever end?

She got some allies and formed a gang
She visited some jewelers and went out with a bang
She struck again at the store on Sixth avenue
But she was caught and did not have a break through
Has her reign of stealing have been ended?

She was sentenced for six months on September 4, 1885
She might have lived long or might have died
She might have gotten out of prison and survived
But I do not know her full life story, if she was happy of deprived
But who would even know if six months is enough for a sneak and a shoplifter named Mary Mack?



 The Lottery
By Nora Cassetta (7th Grade)

“Twas a night full of laughs and screams
On the fence, with talk of dreams
Something popped up, Sam and Ted turned their heads
The Thing they saw was dead

Something crawled, slithered and stood up and laughed
The amazing things that death can craft
It wore black suspenders, pants and a white shirt with a splotch of red
The Thing they saw was dead

Something popped up again, it ran into the road
Then ran back into the field, as if it was going to explode
How are you going to
The Thing they saw was dead

Something formed in front of their eyes
And the only thing that filled the field, were cries
They started running, stopped because they remembered that they read
The Thing they saw was dead

They went and looked into Death’s sunken face,
The only thing that they saw was the space
For them in Death’s world, so they fled,
The Thing they saw was dead

They ran, and ran to Ted Martin’s house,
But all they found was a room with a mouse,
So they hid in the room, locked the door, so death wouldn’t spread
The Thing they saw was dead

Ted started feeling so very ill,
He laid so sadly still,
Sam was crying by his head,
The Thing they saw was dead

Sam screamed, as the Thing was inside the bed
No, no, no. That is Ted.
Sam runs and says,
The Thing that was dead, was really TED.



 The Ballad of Fredrick Benner
By Sara Heller (7th Grade)

A man from Germany, born in the states
He was barkeeper, a married man
Who keeps his wits about him.
Dutch Fred, as he was called,
Made no crime worse than burglary,
The man would never kill a man.

In 1879, in company of a friend,
Fredrick picked a woman’s pocket.
Alas, he was caught,
Sent to jail for 5 long years,
But escaped soon after
With the help of a saw and 3 mates behind.
Dutch Fred, as he was called,
Made no crime worse than burglary,
The man would never kill a man.

The clever old pickpocket,
Though he escaped prison once,
He was caught and sent back
While time tick-tocked.
Arrested for burglary, under the name of Fredrick Bennett,
Dutch Fred, as he was called,
Made no crime worse than burglary,
The man, though untrustworthy, would never kill a man.

For more poetry, see our 2017-2018 creations.