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English 8
English 9
Film Lit students should visit Canvas for quizzes and information.
Class join code: ACCDYW
If you already have a Canvas account, log in, then enter this URL to join the Film Lit course.
Please use the appropriate link below to find lesson plans, notes, and handouts for your class.
English 8
English 9
Film Lit students should visit Canvas for quizzes and information.
Class join code: ACCDYW
If you already have a Canvas account, log in, then enter this URL to join the Film Lit course.
Contact us
If you need to contact either Ms. Dalton or Ms. Bird, please email Ms. Dalton at [email protected].
Featured Writing by Students Like You
All work is published with permission from the author. Check back often to read what your peers are writing about. To submit your own work, fill out the form at the bottom of this page.
here yet be parasites
by Drew Brunson
so many poems have been
leached off the minds of brilliant
peoples' minds. where
there be creepy crawling parasites whose mandibles
snap and crack on lost
lost poems. Lost words. who
among us can imagine us
unimagined? who
among us can write with so fragile
a pen and remain so meek?
Inspired by "here yet be dragons," by Lucille Clifton
October 2016
by Drew Brunson
so many poems have been
leached off the minds of brilliant
peoples' minds. where
there be creepy crawling parasites whose mandibles
snap and crack on lost
lost poems. Lost words. who
among us can imagine us
unimagined? who
among us can write with so fragile
a pen and remain so meek?
Inspired by "here yet be dragons," by Lucille Clifton
October 2016
Life
by Josh Rooker
What would life be without life?
We take for granted this beautiful world we live in
Always moving
Forever growing
Yet we forget our planet's ubiquitous heartbeat
Because we think our cell phones and TVs are more interesting
So obsessed
with who posted what
or what he or she said
Endlessly worried about what other people think
It's hard to remember who we really are sometimes.
Birds chirp
Flowers bud
But we fail to realize that we have this earth for a playground
When you're stuck in your own head
It's easy to forget what life actually is.
May 2016
by Josh Rooker
What would life be without life?
We take for granted this beautiful world we live in
Always moving
Forever growing
Yet we forget our planet's ubiquitous heartbeat
Because we think our cell phones and TVs are more interesting
So obsessed
with who posted what
or what he or she said
Endlessly worried about what other people think
It's hard to remember who we really are sometimes.
Birds chirp
Flowers bud
But we fail to realize that we have this earth for a playground
When you're stuck in your own head
It's easy to forget what life actually is.
May 2016
let us leave
by Mykah Castillo
let us go and get out of this town
let us run away from these clouded thoughts
so that we might think freely
let us drive through the night and watch
as the twinkling city lights fade
let us watch as the life we've known
our whole lives shrinks into the distance
and becomes darkness
let us do what we want
let us explore new places
let us hear new things
let us know new faces
let us make mistakes and let us be different
don't let a single soul judge.
let us live without worry,
and let us move on without grudge.
let our minds run wild,
let us be creative
let us have emotion
like we have not seen before.
let us see real people,
genuine people who do
not have fake smiles or frowns
let us not worry about fitting into society's mold.
let us all be the same,
because that is the way we are made.
let us have diversity,
and let us celebrate all of it.
let us all be friends,
let us speak without rejection.
let us live happily
let us live in peace
let us do what we wish
let us follow our dreams
let us live not like each other,
but like ourselves.
May 2016
by Mykah Castillo
let us go and get out of this town
let us run away from these clouded thoughts
so that we might think freely
let us drive through the night and watch
as the twinkling city lights fade
let us watch as the life we've known
our whole lives shrinks into the distance
and becomes darkness
let us do what we want
let us explore new places
let us hear new things
let us know new faces
let us make mistakes and let us be different
don't let a single soul judge.
let us live without worry,
and let us move on without grudge.
let our minds run wild,
let us be creative
let us have emotion
like we have not seen before.
let us see real people,
genuine people who do
not have fake smiles or frowns
let us not worry about fitting into society's mold.
let us all be the same,
because that is the way we are made.
let us have diversity,
and let us celebrate all of it.
let us all be friends,
let us speak without rejection.
let us live happily
let us live in peace
let us do what we wish
let us follow our dreams
let us live not like each other,
but like ourselves.
May 2016
My Time
by Harrison Kaylor
I felt her leave
A tear fell down
when all I heard
was pounding agony.
It couldn't be,
Please, not the end.
It's my time to save her.
It's my time to die.
When the mark was drawn,
When the blood was shed,
She had to go.
She had to leave.
Then she left,
and brushed my soul,
for then I smiled,
verily, I breathed my last breath.
I am home,
Now let me rest.
May 2016
by Harrison Kaylor
I felt her leave
A tear fell down
when all I heard
was pounding agony.
It couldn't be,
Please, not the end.
It's my time to save her.
It's my time to die.
When the mark was drawn,
When the blood was shed,
She had to go.
She had to leave.
Then she left,
and brushed my soul,
for then I smiled,
verily, I breathed my last breath.
I am home,
Now let me rest.
May 2016
Evident Elephant
by Avery Allred
May 2016
by Avery Allred
May 2016
I know who I am
by Brenna Goddard
inspired by "Do you know who you are?" by Naomi Shihab Nye
Why do my poems comfort you?
I ask myself.
Because they are fluid, like rain on a window.
I can listen to them and feel peace as if it, too,
were simple and graceful.
Because sometimes I think in a hurricane of words
and not one of them can calm me.
You say my poems come like a raft;
logs held together, they float.
You want to tell me about the afternoon
you floated on my poem
all the way from East to West.
Children paddled on the river with their fathers;
two English girls chased each other outside the school;
everyone seemed to have some task, some duty,
while you wandered lonely, in the streets you claim to love.
Suddenly, you feel the crazy, disorganized body of my poems behind you.
Like a raft you felt my words as something sturdy again,
a desk, a mountain, a willow,
everything happening had a gleam about it;
not the gleam of golden rings--
the shimmer of the sunlit stream,
gleaming in a world that rushes onward,
with or without us.
You wanted to stop and gather up the logs behind you
in this shine, but it wouldn't work.
I keep moving, lifting one foot or the other,
saying, "This is what you need to remember,"
and then hoping you can.
May 2016
by Brenna Goddard
inspired by "Do you know who you are?" by Naomi Shihab Nye
Why do my poems comfort you?
I ask myself.
Because they are fluid, like rain on a window.
I can listen to them and feel peace as if it, too,
were simple and graceful.
Because sometimes I think in a hurricane of words
and not one of them can calm me.
You say my poems come like a raft;
logs held together, they float.
You want to tell me about the afternoon
you floated on my poem
all the way from East to West.
Children paddled on the river with their fathers;
two English girls chased each other outside the school;
everyone seemed to have some task, some duty,
while you wandered lonely, in the streets you claim to love.
Suddenly, you feel the crazy, disorganized body of my poems behind you.
Like a raft you felt my words as something sturdy again,
a desk, a mountain, a willow,
everything happening had a gleam about it;
not the gleam of golden rings--
the shimmer of the sunlit stream,
gleaming in a world that rushes onward,
with or without us.
You wanted to stop and gather up the logs behind you
in this shine, but it wouldn't work.
I keep moving, lifting one foot or the other,
saying, "This is what you need to remember,"
and then hoping you can.
May 2016
Never as free as a leaf
by Tylah Smith
No one will ever be as free as a leaf,
the way it flies in the wind,
the way it goes where it wants,
or rests when it wants to rest.
No one will ever be as perfect as a leaf,
the way its bright green lights up a tree,
the way it's small and petite,
and its fall colors make people stop and stare in awe.
No one will ever have the journey of a leaf,
the way it can see any part of the earth,
the way it has the best views of tourist attractions
and gets in anywhere for free.
Therefore,
no one will ever be as free as a leaf.
May 2016
by Tylah Smith
No one will ever be as free as a leaf,
the way it flies in the wind,
the way it goes where it wants,
or rests when it wants to rest.
No one will ever be as perfect as a leaf,
the way its bright green lights up a tree,
the way it's small and petite,
and its fall colors make people stop and stare in awe.
No one will ever have the journey of a leaf,
the way it can see any part of the earth,
the way it has the best views of tourist attractions
and gets in anywhere for free.
Therefore,
no one will ever be as free as a leaf.
May 2016
Looking for spring
by Savannah Lisonbee
This little dandelion,
not fully bloomed yet,
trying desperately to emerge--
like anyone in this life
trying to find themselves,
trying to blossom into
something better than they were
before,
looking for their own spring.
But dandelions still have flaws.
They are seen as a weed
Instead of a flower,
because no matter how
hard we try, there's always
something else to fix.
Spring always ends,
and soon there's another
winter to get through.
But maybe that's the better way.
It's better that the seasons
change and flowers die
than nothing happening at
all.
It's better that we're not
perfect.
Otherwise, there'd be no
beauty in trying to bloom.
April 2016
by Savannah Lisonbee
This little dandelion,
not fully bloomed yet,
trying desperately to emerge--
like anyone in this life
trying to find themselves,
trying to blossom into
something better than they were
before,
looking for their own spring.
But dandelions still have flaws.
They are seen as a weed
Instead of a flower,
because no matter how
hard we try, there's always
something else to fix.
Spring always ends,
and soon there's another
winter to get through.
But maybe that's the better way.
It's better that the seasons
change and flowers die
than nothing happening at
all.
It's better that we're not
perfect.
Otherwise, there'd be no
beauty in trying to bloom.
April 2016
Photo courtesy of
http://tinyurl.com/9g4n63c