Hannah B

Mackinac Island

Against the ground, hooves clippity-clopping,

While tourists are walking, souvenir shopping.

Everyone enjoying the walk by the lake,

Not a single care of how long it will take.

The breathtaking sight of the beautiful arch,

After the long, uphill, 207 stair march.

Mackinac Island is known for fudge,

I use my napkin to wipe away the smudge.

In the ferry boat line I patiently wait,

To head back across the Mackinac Strait.

Car Ride

A green blur out my window,

The trees pass me by.

A smear of white above,

The clouds dot the sky.

Music from the radio,

Everyone singing along.

Bugs flying near my window,

Birds singing their song.

Me writing in my notebook,

Emily on her iPad.

I tell her I can’t concentrate

And to turn it down just a tad.

Then the car ride comes to an end,

We’ve rounded each corner, each turn, each bend.

We’ve seen all we did, and now we’re done.

Although we’re nowhere near the end of our fun.

Lake Huron

The lights dance on the water. My reflection waves at me. The water is so clear I can see pebbles at the bottom of the lake. The waves lap at my feet, the cold enough to startle me, but not enough to scare me away. Beautiful flowers line the shore, all different colors: purple, red, pink, white. I sit on the rock, watching the waves and listening to the sounds of Lake Huron.

Beach Poem

Sand tickling my feet as I play at the beach,

The waves wash the shore, the water is within reach.

We chose a spot, away from the hassle,

We sat in the sand and built a sandcastle.

I stepped in the water, let it swallow my feet,

We were right near where two Great Lakes meet.

Seagulls fly above my head,

Hoping that maybe, we’d feed them some bread.

Then we go back to our hotel room,

And look at the water and see the moon.


The kind of light pink before night falls,

Then a royal pink that belongs on castle walls.

Pink- the color of taffy sticking to my braces,

A pink the color of my shoes during the races.

Then a pink like strawberry glaze,

A pink sunset to end each day.

Mermaids Exist

Mermaids exist, and they are evil. The sailors are on their ship, unprepared for death. They hear something unusual: a beautiful song. They follow the sound of the voice, mesmerized by the lilting sound. When they find who is singing it, they are amazed: a mermaid sitting on a rock. She sings higher and higher and then jumps into the ocean. She pops her head up and whispers, “Come here.”

“Come here.” her voice echoes in their heads, even her voice is beautiful. One sailor gets off the ship to talk to her. He looks around, but the mermaid is nowhere to be found. He turns around, and there she is. Red hair, sharp blue eyes, a light laugh.

Before he can say anything, he is yanked underwater, struggling for freedom, breath leaving his body.

The mermaid smiles wickedly at his pain. He soon realizes that mermaids are not as beautiful as he thought. They are evil.

The rest of the sailors are clueless to what had happened until they see their friend’s corpse floating on top of the water. Mermaids come out from the water. The sailors know they killed their friend because one holds his watch.

The captain, panicking but afraid to show fear, steers his ship the other way. With shaky hands and fear written across his face, he steers his ship into a boulder. The boat gets a huge dent; it is made of old wood anyway, and is already poorly built. The sailors feel their beloved ship flipping over. They look to the captain for directions, but he just stands there, frozen in fear. They all grab onto railings or the nearest thing they can grab, but they can feel themselves falling regardless. Again, the singing, but this time, more voices, a chorus of beauty, singing in a minor key. High voices, low voices, combined into one. It is the mermaids. They are flipping the ship. How many are there? Fifty? Sixty? The mermaids keep singing as they flip the ship. The sailors, who are not great swimmers, flail their arms wildly in the water. They search for land, but they are in the middle of the ocean. Feeling themselves sinking, the mermaids tighten their grip. The mermaids pull them underwater. The captain finds a piece of his ship and steps onto it. He frantically paddles with his hands. “You’ll be fine, You’ll be fine,” he kept telling himself. But he wasn’t. A mermaid finds him, the first mermaid they saw that day.

“You thought you could get away,” she whispers. The captain looks down to see two grimy hands on the board pulling it out from underneath him. He is still blinded by her beauty: her wavy red hair and her striking blue eyes. She pulls him underwater. He struggles as she smiles. He slowly runs out of breath, dying a selfish coward. His main regret was not saving his friends.

Years later, more sailors come to that part of the ocean. They hear a lilting song. They follow it, and when they see a beautiful mermaid with wavy red hair and striking blue eyes, they are stunned. They head towards her, mesmerized at the sight. She lures them closer, letting them treasure their last steps before she would end their lives. One by one, she pulls them underwater. They cry for help, but nobody helps them. No one survives.

Color Poem

Blue, the color of comfort, beauty, and lies,

Blue, the color of calm water and the sky.

Red, like a burst of energy, hatred, war,

Red, fuel for our anger, our fire, and more.

Green in the grass, the flower stems, the trees,

Green in the plants, the bushes, the leaves.

Yellow is bright, bright like the sun,

Yellow is smiles and so much fun.

Purple is kind, gentle, and loyal,

Purple is soothing, elegant, and royal.

But That’s Not Me

I could paint a picture and pretend to have fun,

I could practice doing hair and maybe pull off a bun.

I could kick a ball and run to first base,

I could play a game of tag and be up for the chase.

But I prefer to stick with my song,

Because I know I can’t be wrong.

I could climb up a tree,

But that’s simply not me.

This is from a blackout newspaper activity:

Sharing is hard.

Coming to agreements,

Divvying up needs.

Think about the environment.

I hadn’t yet caught on,

The daily conflicts of resources.

Different ways have been shared among many,

Granted an easement.

Humans take reason,

And sharing,

Figure it out,

We can.