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  • Students at Nativity of Mary Catholic School in Independence have been working on writing projects. Teacher Megan Carnes is sending some of their best works to The Examiner to share with the community.
    Life and Death
    By Diana De La Cruz
    Nativity Eighth Grade
    Death hunched over to look down at mortality.
    The grass below him writhed and blackened.
    He stared as the bright flora and fauna darkened in his hold,
    All around him tinged the color of ashes and flames.
    Then, he looked beyond the human realm
    and set vacant eyes upon his counterpart.
    There she sat, in all her grace and beauty,
    Teeming of who she was.
    She sat down on the lush grass,
    smiling lovingly at the colorful birds that circled her form.
    The foliage she touched bloomed and sprouted.
    The sun greeted her, its rays shooting down to meet her.
    Vivid colors and luminosity encompassed her being.
    He then asked her,
    “Why does everyone love you but despise me when we are both their creators in equal?
    Her smile fell and her eyes gleamed in grief.
    One of the birds around her had strayed,
    fluttering closer to him.
    Death shook his head and held out his palms.
    The bird landed on his hand,
    giving a final wail of anguish.
    The bluebird’s left wing was bleeding,
    and Life’s grasp was weakened,
    and Death claimed the bird.
    “It is because,” she answered wistfully, “I am a beautiful lie, and you are an ugly truth.”
    One of Many
    By John Paul Jackson
    Nativity seventh grade
    It’s stained black back
    Its curled edges show against
    the green grass like black pepper in
    white soup.
    Its veins show dark
    and black like dye in water.
    Its sweet almost honey smell.
    Its zig zag flying pattern almost
    like a humming birds pattern.
    A boney stem bluntly showing.
    So many fall that you don’t
    even know its there.
    Have you ever sat and listened
    And see red,
    leaves fall on
    the ground.
    Page 2 of 4 - A deer reaches up and catches a
    leaf from a sapling.
    I hope you, too, can see the magic of fall.
    By John Paul Jackson
    Nativity seventh grade
    The sun shown over the hill,
    Almost down.
    The stars will be out soon.
    The lollipop sun,
    going down like a ball of fire.
    Its last rays before the night comes.
    Its cold finger grabbing on like a fish on a hook.
    You pull,
    But it is going to win.
    No matter what.
    The fire is the only shield of the cold night.
    The stars,
    they are the sons and daughters of the day.
    The moon is the wife.
    The morning will come,
    but you will not know it is here
    because the night has won.
    The arms of the morning
    will always be there.
    Life depends on it.
    Just as you sleep,
    the night will sleep also.
    I know you have to be there,
    In that place, to understand.
    The war of night and day.
    The ever raging night. The pacifist day.
    My Slice of Heaven
    By Lorna Green
    Nativity seventh grade
    Crust, sauce, cheese, and toppings.
    The cheese,
    white and yellow.
    Flowing through my fingers to the feeling of
    shredded paper.
    Red, yet elegant.
    Herbs and spices competing for my taste
    bud’s affection.
    Carb loaded fluff,
    I wish was softer.
    Very reliable, like the earth.
    Man, they make up the entire pizza.
    Pepperoni, sausage, peppers and bacon.
    My slice of heaven.
    A Gesture in Life
    By Adrianna Cook
    Nativity seventh grade
    The way it looks
    All the colors
    Green changing into red,
    Yellow, brown and orange.
    Falling at the slightest breeze.
    The sand they make
    When stepped on
    Hundreds of small crunches
    The sound they make
    When they fall in a small pile
    The sand they make when
    A kid jumps into a pile
    Making them fly up, then glide
    Page 3 of 4 - Back down
    The small is the best
    The smell of old wood
    Comes to mind
    The smell freshens the air,
    Leaving an everlasting scent in the world.
    The feel of the dryness
    At the slight touch it could crumble.
    Crumbling in your hand
    Then throwing it up in the air
    Trying to catch it again.
    The Silent Kill
    By Alex Pocock
    Nativity seventh grade
    Sitting, staring
    Wanting to eat
    as she is talking.
    The box is looking
    right at you.
    Oh, you are so hungry
    She eats in every class, talking
    and teaching,
    But all you see
    is the little squares,
    Covered in salt and the
    sweet, crispy taste.
    She leaves and you go in for the kill,
    Getting ready to take one, but
    Wait something…
    Something stops inside you.
    You think my time will come
    To eat
    In front of others
    But until then the silent
    KILL must go on.
    When There is No More
    By John Alexander
    Nativity seventh grade
    Walking, walking.
    Going higher and higher,
    until there is no more to walk.
    Falling to the ground, you hear the crashing
    And sirens going off
    You speak your last words
    after this long life.
    You don’t know what is waiting for you
    on the other side.
    Still, you close your eyes.
    There is nothing to be afraid of
    now you are with God.
    And loved ones.
    My Noise
    By Jenna Dawson
    Nativity eighth grade
    Bum bum ba dum
    Music, my little paradise.
    The place I go when I want to ponder
    Something, or not think at all.
    Bum bum ba dum
    The place I escape to when I want to
    Stop feeling a certain way.
    Where everything makes sense, and the
    Only surprises are the beats of a new song.
    Bum bum bad um
    My addiction. Listening to it
    Everywhere I go. Always listening, escaping,
    Page 4 of 4 - My little paradise.
    By Melanie Johnson
    Nativity seventh grade
    It’s as silent as a rock, but moves gracefully and
    Effortlessly through the wind.
    Watches the children, shouting, yelling, laughing, just
    Eaten lunch, talking about so and so’s new shoes. With a
    Secret smile on its face, no one knows the unknown plant.
    Its soft plant, with leaves like cat whiskers, whipping
    Through the wind, while words like “misunderstood” and
    “judged” get tangled.
    It tastes like a touch of sand, the un-smelt wind, green
    And yellow, are its colors. Fragile yet perfect, still, nobody
    Knows the unknown plant.
    Electric Rush
    By Maranda VonHolten
    Nativity seventh grade
    Back and forth, back and forth,
    Feeling the wind beneath my hair.
    Giving me an electric rush.
    Back and forth, back and forth,
    It’s the best feeling when you feel the
    Rough chains against your hands.
    Seeing the world differently than before.
    Back and forth, back and forth
    Smelling the fresh air of autumn.
    Hearing the chains going: clack, clack, clack
    Its always better with an electric rush.
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