John Oliver Simon is Artistic Director of Poetry Inside Out (PIO), a project of the Center for Art in Translation. He conducts long-term residencies in second through eighth-grade classrooms in the East Bay, focusing on the translation of great Spanish-language poetry, together with writing poetry inspired by this process. Some of my most advanced students, grades 3-6, meet on Friday afternoons in an extraordinary workshop we call Fuego de Palabras.

The following poem, by Caroline María Woods-Mejía, was selected by Robert Hass as winner of the Grand Prize for grades 3-6 in the 2005 River of Words national contest for environmental poetry.

THE WEB OF LIFE

Rising smoke
dragons fly
stoves that run
and never return
you feel down in the dumps
YOU KNOW, SUNK.

Rocks that clatter and chatter
there will be no
silent rock
scribbling and writing
messing up the paper
pancakes steaming in the oven
running shoes racing you...
run, shoes run
nocturnal light
with the sunlight shining
pink, blue,
purple, green
you cannot see but feel.

Something, nothing, harmony, desire.
Nothing of death,
Something of ability.
Your heart pounding, scared
scared of nothing
or maybe something
something of nothing.
Come back, peace.

I stare outside
nothing's in my mind
I'm dead of happiness
no, that could not be
I have no life
no feelings,
just staring
into space
watching nature’s life
but my life is in my shoe
and shall not come
out of my shoelace.

Clouds with fleeting words,
words in the river,
river of words,
Blah blah
Yada Yada
What's the matter with me?
Happy happy of nothing
mad, mad of nothing
mad because nothing exists
mad that this poem isn't over.
Please, please god
shine your light upon me
and make the poem love others
and others will love it back in return.

Do I have life?
is my marker cap black and dark?
Or is it pink, red, yellow
when you turn the mirror around?

Tell me,
tell me, am I dark and gloomy
or bright and cheerful?
What has happened in my past?
No! Not past.

What will happen in my future?
Why, why isn't magic here?
why is it only in your heart?
why do I force myself
to look up but see nothing?
Who am I? Or am I just
thin air. Tell me am I a
human or a god? where am I?
I am trapped in a series of poetry.
Is this the room of the dark abyss of annihilation?

Do I know how to spell?
Wait, am I writing? am I alive?
There's so many questions to be answered!
Or is this just a dream?

Stoves that run, cars that drive
flowers that bloom, hummingbirds that hum,
rain that falls, where am I?
I'm in the heart of love
red swirls around me
I'm getting dizzy
birds sing around me
a spinning spider spins something
is it a masterpiece? or no,
is it something for me
I don't want to be mean
but is it something for me?

Rain falls, hail falls
and bumps the ground
stoves that run, zippers that zip
and unzip. Dragons fly,
orange fire, red love.
I'm stuck, I'm stuck
in the words
ROPE or R-O-P-E.

Pink bubblegum popping on my nose
orange, pink, light blue, purple
the sunset right ahead of me
rain in front of me
hail bumping on me
rusting tigers roaring in the rainbow
rattling like a snake
snickering hyenas, stinky skunks
going back in time.

The clocks are backwards
pencil wackle, tickling tightropes
bubbles that float up in the air
whacking walruses, roaring rhinos rolling,
zipping zagging zebras
There, there it is, the spider
that I saw. It's spinning
the web of life.

Caroline María Woods-Mejía
3rd grade
Rosa Parks Elementary School, Berkeley

The next poem was also a finalist in River of Words.

THE GRASSHOPPER

“Who made the grasshopper?”
—Mary Oliver

Who made the grasshopper?
The one who perches
On the tulip stem,
Resting in the afternoon sun?
Uncatchable, but slow.
Green, but brown.
And I try to imagine how it’s like:
Dodging from the
Eager hands of children.
Clinging to the leaf as the fierce wind
Tries to carry me away.
Who made the grasshopper?

Lily Stoner
5th grade
Poetry Inside Out

This poem was written as an elegy to a classmate who passed away:

LAGRIMAS DE DIOS

para Esmeralda Molina (1992-2005)

Lágrimas de Dios, me da sed.
Jardín de flores que bailan.
Pétalos de paz, tampoco sueños.
Lluvia de ángeles, que van a la iglesia.
Mirada de cariño, puente de caminos.
Realidad de eternidad, de amor.
Sueños de volver, con la sombra de Jesús.
Hermana de mar, prima de río.
Aire con luz, llegar a la muerte.
Puente de tristeza y aroma de dados.
Y que Dios tenga a Esmeralda
Molina en sus santas benditas manos.

Yesenia Isabel Canadá
5th grade
Downer Elementary School
San Pablo, California

TEARS OF GOD

for Esmeralda Molina (1992-2005)

Tears of God, give me thirst.
Garden of flowers that dance.
Petals of peace, not even dreams.
Rain of angels, that go to church.
Look of love, bridge of roads.
Eternal reality of love.
Dreams to come back with the shadow of Jesus.
Sister of the sea, cousin of the river.
Wind with light, come to death.
Bridge of sadness and aroma of dice.
And may God have Esmeralda Molina
in his holy blessed hands.

—Translated by the author