Emily Goodling is a TPS student in Ms. Gaines' English 9 class. Here are several of her poems.
My Garden Grows
A lake of color,
A sea of blue,
A bouquet of butterflies
Following you.
A little sprout,
A climbing rose,
Like peaceful dreams
My garden grows.
The True King
It was a soft spring morning
And all through the land
The brave knights gathered
For a contest grand.
There would be jousting and feasting
With one special test
It would determine the new king:
Knights gathered from the east and the west.
A sword was stuck in a block of stone
It could only be pulled out
By one man alone;
The true king of England would solely succeed
A young man named Arthur
Saw the sword
Its hilt was bright silver
Jewels shone in the light.
He thought to himself
"Who would stick a sword in a stone?
They must not need it.
If I pulled it out, I could keep it, my own".
He reached for the sword
And pulled it straight out
He ran to his father,
Who gave a great shout.
Now England had a king
Who would rule long and well
The people made merry and started to sing.
"Long live Arthur! Long live the king!"
Morning Chores
A young girl stood in the barn doorway, gazing out at the
view beyond. She was wearing a brightly colored cap and had a blue
scarf wrapped around her neck. Her stained jeans were stuffed carelessly
into the top of her barn boots and her breath hung in the air around
her. Behind her, the rest of the barn was peaceful and quiet. The sheep
nosed contentedly through their hay while the chickens pecked up some
spilled grain. Sunlight fell in a broad, dusty ribbon behind her. It
slipped through chinks and knotholes in the barn door, creating a
patchwork quilt on the barn floor.
Outside, the sun glistened on the snow, shining like
hundreds of diamonds. The blue of the sky contrasted sharply with the
rich green of the pines across the lane. The white field sloped down
to the brook, where it met with the woods marching magestically up the
slope. Closer to where she stood, she could see the spring house,
dwarfed by it's hat of snow. The mailboxes, as well were almost obliterated
by the snow bank. Sighing, the girl turned back into the dusky barn.
The sheep needed watering and she knew the nesting boxes were full of
eggs.
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