POETRY
Paint comes out of my eyes.
There's always sadness in my brain.
I've been eating poetry.
All the people see me.
They run away
and then they stop.
The poems have been disappeared.
The people cry.
More and more people are coming and
crying.
They drip and fall.
The blood goes down the stairs.
The poor people don't know what to do.
Now the people begin to crawl.
The people flew up and never came down.
*this poem was written by Egor Duma, 4th grader at Columbus Elementary School in Ukrainian Village, about 2 years ago. We read a poem on poetry by Billy Collins, and then I asked them to write about the "power" of poetry to make us do, feel, and think certain things. This is what he wrote, straight away, no cross-outs or erasings. Incredible imagery, incredible language. I love this poem.
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