Write a Found Poem

Choose a poem from a book and write a different poem using the words that you "found."

That Day

by Sarah Yousuf Al-Theyab

That day

I don’t know what happened ?

It feels like I want to cry

And I don’t know why ?

Is it because I was happy

or was sad ?

I see the old pictures

I can’t control my self of crying

I remember everything

I remember , I remember 

I have been closed up all day

by Ghada Al-Saegh

I have been closed up all day

Speaking of unimportant stuffs inside rooms

Now finally I have become visible into the night,

Myself in a middle of darkness

Beneath the clouds the low sky sparks

With sprinkled light. I can barely think this is happening.

Here in this optimistic nonappearance of day,

 I feel myself developed with pleasure.

All over the place around me the soft rain is whispering

Of thousands of feet of air

Imperceptible beyond us.

The rude mirror
always there
looking
thinking
round on the pink wall
stares
at me
a face
I stare back
always.

Found Poem Cut-Up

Arranging words.

Lines from the list of novels below were cut up and mixed together. Club members chose handfuls of lines and arranged them into poems.

Everything on a Waffle by Polly Horvath, The Black Pearl by Scott O’Dell, Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell, Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, The Amazing Story of Adolphus Tips by Michael Morpurgo, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl, The Birchbark House by Louise Erdrich, Pearls of Wisdom compiled, selected or devised by Harry Millner, The River Between Us by Richard Peck, The Last Treasure by Janet S. Anderson, Coroline by Neil Gaiman, Journey by Danielle Steel, Under the Watson’s Porch by Susan Shreve, Princess Academy by Shannon Hale,Spells Trouble by Clarice Bean, The Celebrated Jumping Frog and Other Stories by Mark Twain, Men are from Mars, Women from Venus by John Gray, Life: Selected Quotations by Paulo Coelho, and By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept by Paulo Coelho.

In order to live fully

by Rawa Yousfi

You must give up everything else.
She printed out the story and turned off the computer
Then she drew a picture of the little girl dancing
and she finally asked Jack if he'd seen it
when he was last home on leave from the army. He
looks sad and dreamy, and doesn't talk with anybody.
It was safe in the house with Uncle Jack.
The idea of being a princess promised many things

"Quick!" Cast your eyes on

by Fatima Faleh

the man going out at the
door" someone coming in and doing
more. I wondered why Miss
Esa nodded, and Miri noticed
that her eyes were just
nervous.

always be a shadow to her laughter

by Abdelrahman Kamel

a corner of sadness
beside me bathed in the clear morning light
stopped down at the very end, where a full-length mirror
"Okay, listen," Jess said suddenly. "Listen. The picture,
Remember: never behave arrogantly
The bigger the fool, the louder he laughs.
To make people laugh, you must remain serious.
"Well, they didn't say it in a very nice way," I said.
"It's very moving."
feeling.
It wasn't a statement about me because I understood
Not every laugh is a happy one
So why don't you just dig up this treasure
what we laugh at reveals our character.

pinkly uncomfortable

we laugh sometimes
already bitter it seems
feeling more and more cheerful.
The floors were solid and he hadn't mentioned love again
since he had given
to give it

the following story illustrates
how when a woman started talking about
how excited she was to go on this trip
I thought of all those people leaving
and going else
instead of the

She can't even speak English
because everyone's got cats of their own already

I've been back at school

by Maha Ahen

a whole week now.
When many of them know
there's hardly enough
room to all day, Omakayas
and her grandmother
worked played the flashlight
up again. And, see? you see
there? There and then and
one wants to see one's
friends before it's shadows,
you know? The one that was
here, that Elizabeth has had
my row with Dad, the
biggest row of my life,
"Look at the land around
here!" he said. "Let's lie
maybe you should lie down."

Write from a Baby's Perspective

Write a poem or a story from a baby's perspective.

A Baby’s Perspective

by Shafia Al-Mohannadi

Here they come; the Not-Mamas. They hovered around me while I lay there helplessly as each of their smelly hands pinch my now swollen, red cheeks. Don’t the Not-Mamas know who much it hurts? Wasn’t that considered to be some sort of physical abuse?

A whimper sound escaped my trembles lips when I all could hear was gibberish, strange, alienated echoes.

“Stop!” I yelled, but the Not- Mamas only cooed in response.

Light finally gathered around my when I finally saw her. Mama was my feeding machine, my crib, my former home. Dark stands of brown hair fell into my face, making it difficult for me to see her gleaming, big brown eyes. My hands – which weirdly for some reason appeared smaller than the Not-Mamas who had claws for hands – desperately trying to catch a curl, tempted to play with it, eat it or even just grasp it tightly without letting my toy go.

“Just don’t leave me again, Mama.” I said as bubbles for saliva dripped down my chin. “Don’t leave me with the Not-Mamas anymore.”

Mama only patted my back, rocked me back and forth in a soothing rhythm and before I knew it, I couldn’t see anymore.

Waaaaaaaaah!

There’s the ceiling, again!

Waaaaaaah! >Plonk<

>slurp slurp slurp<

>bloop<

Why do they keep putting me

Back into this little white coffin!

Change me! Can’t you smell that I need a change!

I need something to do!

I don’t want to lay here all day and look at the ceiling!

I need space!

Bring me milk!

I need warmth,

Not this rubber binky pacifier or whatever it is.

My thumb tastes a lot better.

When will this end!

Waaaaaaaaaaah!

by Khalid Bakri

Bird I say

Let us dash

Please

Fish swarms swimming

Invite me

Please

Sunlight I scream

STOP PLAGIARISING

ME!

I’m working

Let me roll

Homie

Write Fan Fiction

Write a piece of fan fiction.

Hancock's Home Planet

by Khalid Bakri

Although Hancock is now living on Earth protecting people, Earth is not his home planet. He came from a whole different world which was named “Planet Hancock.” On planet Hancock things were really different. The citizens of planet Hancock were stripped of any feelings. They were all about power, because, as we know, they were made in pairs who are attracted to each other, and when they stay together for a long time all of their powers fade away and they become powerless human beings, so what they did was they always go as far as they can from their partners, so they won’t lose their powers which are: super strength, super durability, levitation, and super speed.

Dancing Zombie

My… cool… Jacks… on…

Lea… ther… Jack… son…

My… cool…

We… you…

We… dance… 

We… you… love…

Moon… walk…

My… cool…

You… We…

Jack… son…

You… us… now…

Jack… son…

My… cool…

Cool…

Who are You?

We will start with the same activity that we ended with last year. It seems like a nice way to introduce each other.

Who are you? Write about who or what you are?

by Emily Dickinson

I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
They'd banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

Who Am I?

by Rawa Yousfi

I am an independent woman, a feminist,

I am a pessimistic person, a realist,

I am as sensitive as wings of a butterfly,

I am vulnerable, a little too fragile,

I am naïve, I am too forgiving,

I dream of a better life, a life I’m not living,

I am not perfect, I am incomplete,

I make stupid mistakes I wish I could delete,

I am a teenager, a rebel, a freedom fighter,

I am a mess, a beautiful disaster,

I Am

by Shafia K. Al-Mohannadi

I am the first daughter but the second child out of seven siblings. I laugh at people who fall. Then I feel bad. I cry when I see someone cry. Especially full-grown men. I’ve been blind in one eye since I was eight, sometimes I forget that I am, though. I am a failure at time, a winner rarely—competitively speaking. I am a granddaughter, a great-granddaughter once, a sister, a friend, a best friend, a niece, a booklover, a food junky, and most importantly, a future zombie fighter.

I am the stone people lean on. I laugh when I’m stressful. I can’t keep a straight face when people yell at me. I think of chocolate when my mother gives me one of her usual lectures about how irresponsible I can be sometimes – always in her case. I giggle when my brain is deprived from sleep. I am physically incapable of doing anything at 5 o’clock. If I was stranded in the vast Sahara desert and had to bring only one thing with me, I would bring chocolate chip cookies.

I’m almost five foot six. I currently have five ant bites and some scratches from my cat. Does it make me snobbish if I say I’m modest? I overthink. I don’t share, then I feel bad about not sharing, then I share.

I’m 152 Lbs. or about 62 Kilos.

I’m a 49ers fan.

I’m forty-two years old.

I’m catching forty winks.

I'm 24-7.

I’m a little less than twelve months from my next birthday.

I'm a dime a dozen--a baker's dozen.

I’m at the eleventh hour.

I’m dressed to the nines on cloud nine.

I'm a stitch in time saving nine.

I’m behind the eight ball.

I’m in seventh heaven.

I’m six of one and a half dozen of the other.

I’m 5' 9" or so or around 175 centimeters.

I'm a four-leaf clover.

I’m the oldest of three children.

I'm a third wheel.

I’m one of three people in my family.

I’m the three Rs: Reading, Writing & Robert.

I’m at the end of the third day at the beginning of the tenth month in the year 2012.

I’m at home in apartment 3e.

I'm three wishes.

I’m second fiddle.
I’m a bird in hand worth two in the bush.

I’m of two minds.

I'm one on one.

I’m all for one and one for all, and
I’m the one and only.

I am lost for words

I am thoughts swinging between two languages

Arabic, English

English, Arabic

I live in more than one country 

belong to none

Or should I?

I prefer to think of myself as a person 

with unanswered questions

I'm a mother

I'm a wife

I'm a daughter in law

A sister, daughter, friend, enemy? maybe!

I'm working, but I'm lost

Different roles, different tasks, different titles

different offices, meetings, committees

I'm me, whoever that is..

International Poetry & Storytelling Night

I will be hosting this new monthly event. Hope to see you all at Katara Cultural Village inside the Katara Art Center, Building 5 on Tuesday evening at 7PM! Come and share your own writing or your favorite poem or short story in our open reading. Bring a friend and read something in any language!

The Creative Writing Club is Coming!

Happy New (School) Year, ABPeeps! Stay tuned for news about when we'll be getting started this year. We can't wait to meet you.

Write: Who Are You?

Emily Dickinson

Our last club meeting of the school year. Thanks for participating everyone!

Write an answer to this question. What are all of that different things that you are right now? Try to capture them in writing.

Who are you?

by Monireh Ghaedi

My face never shows who I am

People read me calm, kind, and quiet

Inside I am angry with myself, with the world

The rose is my feeling

I break easily when the leaf falls

I tell my sense to the sea, rain and nature

I feel people don’t understand me

People, is it hard to understand me? 

I am a curious about everything around

Small smell I smell

Small sadness made me sad 

I am alone, but I have friends

The corner of the room is my place

I am

by Dana Sulaiman A-Hamadi

I am a sister who has many responsibilities for her brother, I am their teacher

I am an ambition who wants to be a doctor

I am a girl who doesn’t like to see bad boys sitting together

I am a creative who likes to change and recycle, whatever

I am a friend who is with her friends in difficult times forever

I am an achiever, who likes to achieve impossible things, 

I, I am

by Ahmad Alony

I still don’t know what I will look like as a final product, but I am in the process of finding out, although I don’t know when. I would have never imagined that I’d be constantly working so hard at the age of 18. The instant shift from my teenage life to adulthood was silent, a different level of maturity struck me. I automatically started shaping my relationship with my family, my friends, and my future. I don’t know what I want in life, but without knowing your roots you can would never know your place in life. Wehther it’s cousins, parents, brothers or nephews, I am working with them to leave an eternal memory of them. Without my family, I would have been devastated with academic failure, they are a fuse for failure and success. They are moderators, and without them I would have no directions in life.

What am I Today?

I'm a son, a brother, a bother,
     a cousin, a nephew, an uncle, a dozen,
     a husband, and a father. In short, a family man.
I'm famous with that crowd.
I'm allowed to be loud or quiet. I'm a son-of-a-gun. POW!
I'm lucky. I'm a friend and an enemy. I'm a virgo.
I'm a peacemaker. I'm spent.
I'm heaven-sent.

I'm just over seven years of bad luck. I'm still stuck.
I'm a love-letter sender, a never-ender, both a borrower and a lender.

I'm a teacher, a preacher, a far-reacher.
I'm something that helped make you
      the creature from the black lagoon
      in another life.

I'm too soon and too later. I'm a hater,
     a hook-baiter. Just wait.

I'm a successor.
I'm a failure, I'm sure.
I'm an undiscovered cure.

I'm a winner, a loser, a finisher,
     a diminisher, a world traveler,
     an unraveler. See?

I'm Finnish (partly), Italian (some), American (mostly),
     that's where I'm from.

I'm only just begun.

I'm lonely.
I'm not the only one.

I'm so much--
keep in touch

Write: A List Poem

Write a list poem about your idea of home.

Home

Home is where I can be myself,

where I don’t need to pretend in order to please.

Home is the job I can’t wait to wake up to go to,

Special Assistant to the Director of the ABP.

Home is the friend I feel inner peace around.

Home is wherever I can make a difference.

Home is where my daughter is healthy and happy,

where she played with rabbits by the Euphrates

instead of breathing smoke in Baghdad

Home is a warm slice of my mom’s cake with a glass of cold milk.

She experimented with the recipe over the years

in an attempt to make it healthy, yet addictive;

a recipe I still fail to bake the way she does.

Home is the smell of the cloud that rises

from my dad’s Cohiba cigar,

and Erinmore Flake tobacco

when he smokes his pipe.

Home is in his eyes,

in his voice, in his presence.

Home is bigger than a building,

A country, a continent

Home is the world.

Where is my Home?

by Bob Marcacci

Is Doha, where I live now, my home? My apartment in education city housing lot two?

Is my home in California, in the United States, where I was born and lived thirty years of my life before moving abroad and meeting my wife?

Is it in Japan where I met Angela and we lived together and rode bicycles and went to picnic in the falling cherry blossoms near Osaka castle?

Is it Beijing where we planned our marriage and more?

Is it in my memory?

Is it at my grandmother’s house in Vacaville, my hometown? My grandmother moved there after an earthquake destroyed her home in Napa.

Is it there where we returned for a job and Vito lived the first few years of his life?

Is it my parent’s old house at 563 Ridgewood Court? They sold the house many years ago and moved to Nevada. Is their new house in Nevada my new home?

What makes it a home? The same old things are in the new house. There are some new things, too.

Is it 1495 21^st Avenue in San Francisco my home where I lived with my brother and others?

Is my home in Italy with Angela’s extended family?

Is my home with me, where Angela and Vito and me bring it?

Home is a bowl of soup

Home is away
Home is where I am not
It is a dream
of a bowl of hot
tomato soup with a spot
of sour cream.

by: Magda Rostron

Write: A Letter from a Favorite Childhood Toy

Write a letter from a favorite childhood toy. Post your responses here.

Thanks to Writer's Digest: <http://tinyurl.com/cgjo8bw>.

My Toy

by Ahmad Alony

Dear Ahmad,

I miss you. I knew you bought me after you saw Robin Williams create me in that movie that you and I love. I miss you. I long for the day where you opened my green container and gave me the widest smile I had ever seen as you held me. I miss you. When you would place me on the top shelf in your room so that I was untouched by any intruders. I miss you. Remember when mom told you to change your clothes as soon as you came back from school, yet you ignored her and rushed to play with me? I miss you. When you fitted my flexible body into all types of receptacles, amazed with my physical capabilities? I miss you. But then Lego Technic came out, and every day you would inspect my green body, and split me into chunks. I hate you. You shoved my gelatinous body between your old toys as you played with your Lego. I detest you. You left me in a dark place, with the rubric’s cube squashing my body. Who are you?. What about the time when you picked me up and used my body as a dust cleaner for your laptop? I miss you. Now I’m in your trash bin, waiting to see you pick me up and play with me again. I miss you.

From: The Toy Box

Dear Asmaa,

 I can't believe I finally got your email. Qadu found me while packing some of your stuff to be moved to your sister’s house. I'm sure you know they are planning to sell the old place, but they have been talking about it for so long, I doubt they will actually go through with it. They might renovate it and rent it.

I'm still wearing my pink pajamas, or shall I say grey? They definitely need to be washed.  Dust doesn’t smell like baby powder.  I miss my bubble bath, but I don't miss being combed so many times a day. It made my hair frizzy. I still remember the day you gave me a hair cut thinking that the frizz will disappear! The good news is that I don’t need a diaper change!  It must have been all the water you used to give me in that bottle! Are you still sewing little dresses every Eid the way you used to? You must be in your forties now, what kind of toys do forty year olds play with?

Write: A Recipe

Find a recipe and replace all of the food words with other words to make a "new" recipe.

Peace Pops

Ingredients

1 (12-ounce) can frozen serenity concentrate
3 cups cold harmony
1 (16-ounce) package frozen sliced reconciliations

In a large agreement, anonymize together the serenity concentrate and harmony. Place reconciliations into the repose of a tranquility, and friendship until smooth. Pour in some of the serenity if necessary to facilitate tranquility. Stir reconciliation friendship into the serenity. Pour into unity, and truce until calm, about four hours.

Life Recipe

by Ahmad Alony

Get a bowl, add a few cups of love, take one table spoon of patience, one tea spoon of generosity, take one pint of kindness, take one quart of laughter, then proceed to add a pinch of concern. Then mix willingness with happiness, add four cups of faith. Stir it well, then spread it on a span of a lifetime, then serve it to every deserving person you know.

How to make war

Take two flags of different colours and wave them in opposite directions. Add a moustache (any size will do) and a cap with a feather. Cover evenly with approximately 300-479 words, such as fatherland (can be replaced with motherland, depending on the language you are cooking it in), brotherhood (do not use sisterhood as it may add a slightly unusual flavour), life, love, children, future, dignity, freedom, liberation, equality, justice, and victory. The words can be used in varying proportions and sequence, and adjusted as you proceed. In some cases freedom works better than justice, but adding victory is essential. Beat them together until stiff, sharp peaks appear. Stir the foam into the rest of the ingredients and wait until the mixture rises, forming bubbles and giving out pungent black smoke.  

Add about 20 thousand men* mixed with an equal number of guns – choose shiny ones when buying them from the warmonger’s since rusty guns tend to spoil the overall final effect of this dish. Divide the men with guns into two, roughly equal, rows facing each other, and soak in liquid testosterone for about 8 hours.

When ready, put the mixture into a food processor and combine on maximum speed. Pour into an armoured vehicle. Before baking in a very hot oven, spread a few additional words on top, such as sacrifice, hero, immortal, glory and fame, dotting them here and there to soften the surface.  

Place the dish in an oven, preheated to 500° F, and leave the country where it is cooking, collecting your loved ones and friends, photographs, books, scarves, sunglasses, and perfume. Don’t look back.

* If you have access to the black market, you can replace 10 thousand men with 1 nuclear warhead. Please, note that using a nuclear warhead will eliminate the need for any additional ingredients and further cooking procedures.

   

Personify an Object

Write a poem or a story in which you imagine you are an object. Write about how that object sees the world.

I Am

by Ahmad Alony

Whenever they look for a retreat after a long stressful day, they look for me, and they feel  comfortable as long as I’m with them, touching them. Every Friday dad, mom and the two kids would congregate around me, showing me their back as their brains absorbed new film scenes.  I’m well looked after every morning when mom pats me and shakes the dust off me, whilst placing me next to my other two companions. If the atmosphere in the living room is bright, the kids would jump on me, share recycled jokes and play their favorite fighting game, and mom and dad would share their favorite piña colada whilst talking about new undiscovered experiences with a Billie Holiday track filling the background. But when the atmosphere is dark, there are no playful  laughs, no toast of glasses, everything is dead. The curtains are shut. Young shouts are heard, mom being dragged to her room by her hair, the door slams and merciless beatings are heard. Screaming notes are heard that make the piña colada glasses vibrate. Dad comes out of the room whilst slamming the door behind him. He then heads to my direction, picks me up and repeatdly punches me to the point where my foamy insides are about to burst. My squared body is then thrown onto the wall and kicked off his sight. I have no say in this. The following morning I am back on there treat, but this time dad is alone. No laughs, just eight beer glasses on the table, and a gun next to me. Dad walks on the carpet, rests his back on me, places me between his gun and the side of his head, and shoots a whole right through me.

Peop Papers

by Mohammed Azme Khirallah

The world is being cruel to us. Why? Everyone uses us to do different things, and they don’t have a clue about the way we feel when they throw us in the garbage. Inessential! Yes we feel inessential. These people don’t know that every time they throw us in the garbage and run out of me; they go and kill our mothers. They destroy where we came from. There is no word that can describe the way we feel because this world made us forget how to feel, enjoy our life and be happy.  In contrast, a few people are trying to help where we came from and reuse us for good. They usually collect me and my siblings and gather us in one place and reproduce us and sell us to people. We don’t mind this type treatment as long as our relatives and mothers are safe. We love to help people since we were invented, but they also need to know that where we came from is more important than their business.

Wall

I stand there
watching,
listening in silence,
separating space
into worlds
while being part of them.
I may have a portal
that leads out of a space
into another,
or allow eyes to wander
out of my bounding presence
to what's beyond.
I can display whatever is hung on me.
Sometimes, in some places, I am transparent.

Keychain

Despite most of my days

spent in darkness,

people open up to me.

I live with my brothers and sisters.

We keep each other company.

With our pierced eyes,

we bare our teeth

and turn again toward darkness.

Write Something that Begins with My...

Write a poem or a story about a person. Each line should begin with My...

My Brother

by Ahmad Alony

My brother always ends up changing his mind whenever I am winning in an argument.

My brother and I love to spar in boxing, and he always floors me. My mother never finds out.

My brother is a year older than me, and he is still in high school.

My brother loves the automotive field, and plans on building his muscle car.

My brother and I love to cruise around the city with his Honda MR-V, whilst enjoying our favorite fruit cocktail.

My brother and I always end up playing a Call of Duty session together as soon as we both come home from school.

My brother and I love to play Memory Lane by NAS in the car whenever we are hyper.

My brother and I hate talking about politics because it always ends up turning into a verbal fight.

My brother and I have completely different tastes in clothing, he prefers black-everything, and I prefer Jeans and colorful tops.

My brother always copies me by running to the kitchen to make himself the same exact sandwich that he sees me eating.

My brother has sudden mood swings in the morning because he doesn’t sleep enough the night before.

My brother eats 3 fast food meals per week and never gains weight.

My brother always smells dishes that are new to him.

My brother likes to grow his hair to the point where his ears are not visible.

My brother got arrested once for fleeing the police with his car.

My brother and I shared an epiphany after watching the film Inception together.

What Have You Lost / Found

Write about what you have lost OR write about what you have found.

I lost my job at a bookstore.

I lost my job at a bookstore.

My boss thought I had taken money from the register.

I lost the address of my Big Blue Marble pen-pal in Malaysia.

I had written to her for many years,

And then not written to her for many years.

I lost many friends in the same way:

Aaron from Ridgewood Court,

Eric from the dorms at San Francisco State,

India from Oregon,

Michelle from Headlines.

I am lucky that I haven’t lost their names yet.

I have lost some of those.

I lost my prescription Ray-Bans with the red frames.

Someone took them out of my 1993 Honda Accord,

Which Angela had forgotten to lock.

I lost the chopsticks she bought me in the year of the sheep.

I told my son I lost the flags he had collected,

But I had thrown them away.

Write an Alphabet or "First Time" Story / Poem

Write a poem or a story in which each line begins with a letter of the alphabet. OR write a poem or story that describes the first time you did something. Try to capture all of your senses.

by Louis-A Thomas.

Among the stars in heaven,
Beautiful planets were born.
Colorful and shiny even.
Darkness is very stubborn,

Ephemeral entity of the night.
Fearless spirit there,
Gaze at the wonderful light.
Hovering the sun’s fair,

Incredible sight!

Junipers of the sky,
Knights of the empress,
Lovely? I can’t deny.

Milky Way shows her velvet dress. 

Neon dust fill this empty space,
Obscure, limitless, and cold.
Peace rules the place,
Quarrels are only for the bold.
Ravishing the mighty and eternal,
Sound galaxy of providence,
The “premium” solar system,
Unique,  glitters in silence.
Venus is the brightest planet above all.

What a marvelous show, when
X-rays from the  mother Sun,

Yellow or blue, every now and then

Zooms on the young planets awoken.

We hadn’t eaten yet.

by Bob Marcacci

We hadn’t eaten yet.

There was a problem at the airport,

All noise and lines.

Angela stayed in San Francisco.

Vito and I left without her.

Vito cried

When he realized she wasn’t going with us.

I cried

Explaining it to him in a way

A four-year-old could understand.

It was hard to understand at forty.

We held hands

When we landed in Doha,

The first time we saw land in Doha.

My ears popped.

Vito turned to me.

He asked if everyone lived in sand houses.

“They’re all brown,” he said looking out the window.

I said, “I don’t know.”

We didn’t know

How hot it was in July.

We were finally here.

by Mohamed Zehni Khairullah

Alphabetical order story

Baked and made like a delicious muffin

Crusted with chocolate caramel and peanut

Dried on the sun and it is ready

Eaten by a chubby kid starving the death

Factoring an equation was the way he chopped it

Gathered his stuff and went outside

Hot weather made his lips dry

“I loved the muffin” that’s what he said

Jelly strawberry jam was placed in a sandwich

Killed it with one bite and it is gone

Lemonade was his dream now

Moon light appeared and still walking outside

Narrator to tell him a story was hard to find

Opened a heavy bag and suddenly found

Pond with fishes and ducks

Quarter past 10 was the time

Rested for a bit and then continued his journey

Stuttered for a bit and did not speak a word

Turtles started to appear from that pure pond

Umbrella was carried by it

Vibration action led his body to shake

Wallet fell down and got lost

X-ray vision used to find the wallet

Yawning and almost fell a sleep

Zipo lighter helped him find his way

Write a Found Love Poem / Story

Write a poem or story about love using the words from a book in the library.

It has been said

that it is a net,

a cultivated plant,

a habit,

most remarkable

concept,

an engraved motif.

But, It could be

curiosity,

anticipation,

a heart beat

a thousand excuses 

to linger, talk

a religion.

Words taken from the book Number by Midhat Gazalé.

primitive roots
relatively prime little circles
relationships
in other words
residue sequence beads
preceded by x
in Arabic
may satisfy expression

in light
of an uninterrupted fragment
you eventually reach
a point God made
exhaustion of an infinite
knotted rope

Mornings. Nights?
Days. Years.
Nothing changed.
Everything changed.

I do not know myself.

I have no energy
to pluck the cactus
out of the ground.
Plant seeds.

Grow anything
unprickly,
that swings in the breeze,
wilts without water.

He liked cactus.

Now that he's gone
into an eternal somewhere,
I like watering them.
Drowning them.

Dictionary Haiku

Write a haiku poem using a random word from the dictionary.

Modelled after a Japanese form, a haiku poem is comprised of 17 syllables divided among three lines: five in the first line, seven in the second line, and five in the third line.

Monkeys are screaming
Inner conflicts through jungles
Banana hunting

--

Depressed man waiting
Remarkable winter wet rain
Depressed man again

--

Love, love broken heart
Summer is back, love again
Tears fell, rivers dry

by Mohamedzehni Azme Khirallah

Rain-washed trees dance off
protracted summer sand storms.
Distant memories.

father snores in bed
responsible for Winter
where he is dreaming

Monsters under the bed
Lookout it will come out and
You're gonna be really dead

by Fatima Mutar Al-Kuwari

Sun was my mother
Green, yellow, white, my color
Said, painful, my feeling
From remote village a man
With His Chopper
He broken me
Hey you man, I was alone
Many years of अ month
A kid comes to me
You alive for ever
You on ever die, never
The tree of the knowledge
My dad earned from you
For paying school
Set front of you, learn, learn, and learn
Unless Support you
Monireh Ghaedi

ABP STUDENTS ♥

♥
Students at the ABP
know what they will be
as you can see
I will be a doctor

ABP Students

Don't judge the teacher from his face

and put your self

in his place

so the chapter will

follow the chapter

LRC is a room school

join the teacher and

you will be cool

just try and you will be sure

the semester will go faster!

Write About Art

Find a painting, photo, sculpture or other art piece and write a response to it. Write your response as a poem or a short story. Post the art with your response.

Christo and Jeanne-Claude's Wrapped Trees Project for the
Foundation Beyeler and Borrower Park, Riehen, Switzerland, 1995.

oh meringue

oh dollop

oh dolly

my gift to you

are these trees

all wrapped and ready

to go nowhere

already