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Andrew Mc
There’s a flicker of doubt
in his otherwise kind and patient eyes.
In class, he shrinks back—
a shrug, a blush, a quiet I don’t know.
Even when he’s right,
he says he just guessed—
as if being correct
were too loud a thing to own.
But when no one’s grading,
he turns in a long-read poem
about Old Miss Nelly
knocking over a lantern in the shed,
her sly wink lighting up the page—
Fire. Fire! Fire!
Where does that impish voice
live the rest of the day?
In the end, I see the shrug and blushing,
not as answers,
but as gentle echoes of himself.
—clr, 2011
When asked to write some poetry of his own he wrote:
Late last night when I was home in bed, Old Miss Nelly to the lantern to the shed and she winked her eye, knocked the lantern over, and said it’s going to be a hot night tonight. Fire. Fire! Fire!
Ms. Omura
OH my gosh
her last name starts with
Oh really?
are we all jealous?
Oh YEAH.
Oh, Omura!
Gregory
Whatever it is that makes us human,
Gregory has his share—and more.
Pain, joy, love, and rage
spill through him
in doses no child should carry.
So he wraps himself in quiet,
a skin made of don’t-look-too-close,
stitched tight with survival.
But there will come a day
when some grief loosens its grip,
and he might begin again,
not by forgetting,
but by breathing anyway.
Because perfection was never promised,
and happiness doesn’t wait
for a clean slate.
We are all,
in our own ways,
fighting to begin again.
Clr 2012
Sarah
Sneaks through the door, tail tucked like a guilty dog,
a rabbit trembling with the shame of being late.
Her apologies, whispered,
never quite rang true.
A beauty queen, perfectly polished —
hair, nails, makeup, clothes —
her armor, always first.
Sarah looks beyond us,
toward a place we cannot enter,
and silently, she slips
from our reach and consciousness.
CLR 2012
Austin G.
Anxiously turning the pencil over and over,
Until the ideas make sense, he persists gallantly.
Sitting with one ear fixed on the chatty beauty behind him, the
The other ear loyally tuned in to the teacher.
Internalizing the horse-like
Nickname he’s been gifted by those he holds in highest esteem.
clr 2012
Genuine Nathan
He flashes a genuine smile
to anyone who looks.
He carries a genuine talent—
one he’ll hone for years.
And with genuine respect,
he’ll treat the hearts
that fall his way.
There’s a genuine love
for learning
gleaming in his eyes.
—Clr 2012
The Only Amber in Town
WOW! is the perfect word
for this powerful, energetic
ball of fire.
Her mane is only part of her glory;
her voice displays her soul
in heart-wrenching perfection.
Her flashing eyes and radiant smile
stand in sharp contrast,
framed by her rich, dark tones.
Those around her pause,
caught off guard
by the force of her presence.
She does not claim this power as her own.
Her strong beliefs tell her she
is but an instrument of God,
and I might argue
she is a favorite of His.
— CLR, 2011
Ms. V.
Bree is a familiar smile,
hopping from chair to chair
before finally settling—
comfortable at last.
She slinks in ten minutes late,
blames it on the traffic,
and sips her Starbucks
unapologetically.
Bree Vee has set her sights on good,
and will be blessed accordingly.
She lives her faith
in the modern-day quagmire
of doubt and temptation
that surrounds her.
— CLR, 2011
An Acrostic Poem for Halee
Holding the world within her hands
And doing no harm, ever.
Leaves me to believe that our Halee Dew
Ere some horrendous mishap occurs, will
Everyone of us protect.
Doubtful that she sees it now, but her
Excellence will mark each person she knows and the
World is better for having her as a guest.
Clr ‘11
Sukrani
There is a complication
in the simplicity Sukrani exudes.
Assume he is anything other than
wonderfully human—
and you will be wrong.
Although he presents
a saintly frontage,
he is as likely to stumble
as any of us.
Whether he has knowingly
created a pious façade,
or whether this reverence
is silently creating him—
that is the question
that creates the complication.
Clr ‘11
More punnin with words (I love you, Shakespeare!)
Savannah is not Sierra,
nor is she a Tierra.
She’s not a mountain,
nor an ocean, lake, or marsh.
So many places could claim her birth:
Georgia or Africa, in the tall grass.
Puyallup had no savannah
until April 6, 1994.
And soon from the coop she’ll fly,
with Rogers left behind to lie.
clr 2012
Zak
Silent Zak, silent Zak,
opens his mouth, gives us a whack.
Silent Zak, silent Zak,
hides a gift he won’t unpack.
Until he’s pushed, you’ll never know—
silent Zak, your mind will blow!
Then back to silent, he will go.
clr 2012
Andrew Glenister
Our Andrew stood so tall and proud,
Yet saw himself lost in the crowd.
He clung to Isaac, tough and fast,
Like teammates built to last and last.
Isaac, kind, took it in stride,
Enjoyed the bond they could not hide.
But then one day they had to part,
And Andrew faced a brand new start.
Reluctant, yes, but strong and brave,
He learned to stand, no longer cave.
And step by step, he came to see,
His height was real — ten feet, plus three!
clr 2011
Jessica Schock
Jessica is proof that one can change —
for better, worse, or somewhere in range.
The bell used to find her running and wild,
now she's seated, talking — almost mild.
She decides each morning just who she'll be:
a quiet whiz or a storm at sea.
You can’t tell her off — she won’t be led.
It’s not just the fire curled on her head.
She might eat your heart out, just for sport,
or walk away with a sly retort.
But maybe the mirror I’m looking in
shows more of me than I meant to begin.
clr 2012
Ms. Clary
N atalie has hidden herself behind Starbucks
A nd a smile. Although I
T ried, I failed to connect—yet I know it’s okay.
A nother senior may need my help or my nagging, but not this one.
L ike a lone wolf, she calculates her needs
I n moments when I offer, she takes only what she chooses.
E ven from a distance, I can tell—she’ll find her way.
clr 2012
Erica Marie Zamudio
Beautiful Carmelita, with brilliance tucked behind modesty,
never needing to prove what she so clearly possesses.
Her silence holds a fierce focus—
and a future wide with possibility.
She endured the silly songs I sang,
gracious as ever,
never once rolling her eyes.
Because Erica knows her power
doesn’t just glow in her calm presence
or her composed youth—
It lives in her mind,
quiet and quick,
moving like a ninja
through the noise.
clr2012
