love, read, write

Let me tell you a story. A few days ago, actually, I think, the day beforeyesterday, my teacher, Mrs. Burns, told us to go outside. Of course, we followed her instructions, and suddenly, she barked out, "ONE LAP! I WANT ONE FULL LAP RIGHT NOW!" The field was a track-ish place. For track. In the circle-thing of the track, there was a vast, green field. But that one lap was long, and all of us were panting, since it had been, pretty much, a race for who gets to the table first.

Mrs. Burns suddenly told us to sprawl out onto the grass, arms and legs wide apart, as if we were in the middle of making a snow-angel on the grass. She told us to "absorb" nature, to listen to the wind, the chattering of the fourth graders in the other field, to feel, the sun, look at the clouds, feel the grass beneath us. Five lengthy but full minutes passed. And we were told to get up, but suddenly police cars came (I'm not kidding,) saying that they were going to have an evacuation drill... Talk about timing!... ... ... ...

Well, the story goes on interesting, but then it would get off track. 

I'll skip the exciting, off-track part.

Then a day later, we were told to try to write the poem, express the feelings. Some people wrote about the clouds, some people wrote a narrative poem about the exiting something that happened in that day, and some people wrote about the sensation of laying on the grass.

I wrote about the sensation on the grass.

Well, here goes...

Arms sprawled out, legs wide apart.

As time rolls back to when I was five,

I look up, and the sun, blinding me.

I squint into the light,

try yet once again to get a glimpse,

just one small peek of the pale blue,

the pale blue and blank white,

formed to a wondrous state,

yet I fail once again.

The wind, brushing past,

one howling in a deep, low tone,

and the other, high, whistling, but calming.

A chill runs through my skin,

as the wind cools me

and the sun warms me.

Under me, the grass,

prickling like gentle needles,

but yet giving a calming sensation.

Hearing the chatter of the other field,

the excited, tense yells coming from the kids.

But my mind remains blank,

their words do not register into my brain,

and I keep calm in this meaningful, but blank, state.

Smelling the fresh air,

the breeze brushing ever so lightly past my skin,

the sun, giving me a wonderful heat,

the tickling needle grass against my legs,

All this meaning coming from the mere state of...

Arms sprawled out, legs wide apart.

As if I were back in time, back when I was five.

Pointing out each cloud, bunny, dragon, rocket.

Beyond imagination, beyond the sky above.

As if there was no longer problems,

as if the world would now be in peace,

and as if I would lay here, peaceful, calm,

Forever.

Looking at the ground,

feeling the sea of green,

swaying this way and that,

mesmerized by this peaceful, fantastic feeling,

the mere feeling,

of sprawling out on the grass.

--

Celine Choo

I have a something-you-must-consider. FOr one thing, I don't know whether the last stanza should go last, the second-to-last stanza should go last, or whether one of the last two stanzas should just go, as in just deleted. I kept it like this, but I think just stopping at the second to last stanza could be a good ending. But yet, I don't know. I need an audience. 

And this is where you come in. Email me at countdown4books@gmail.com . I'll be open to suggestions!

Hope you liked this poem!!