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Summer Camp writing

Guest Blogger: Zaza Karaim

Zaza KaraimZaza Karaim is thirteen years old and an eighth grader at St. Michael's Parish Day School. She loves writing poetry and playing guitar. Zaza volunteered this past summer at the Poetry Center's annual Creative Writing camp. Below are a selection of her poems that she has graciously shared with Wordplay.

The Bamboo Tree

The green bamboo leaves
Twirl through the summer air
The stalks stand firmly
Their roots in the ground
Their fingers in the air
The light shines through the branches
And splatters the ground
With bright shapes
The wind blows
And the shapes dance around
On the soft dirt
Never the same.

Created on: 
Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Guest Blogger: Zaza Karaim

Zaza KaraimZaza Karaim is thirteen years old and is an eighth grader at St. Michael's Parish Day School. She loves writing poetry and playing guitar. Zaza volunteered this past summer at the Poetry Center's annual Creative Writing camp. Below are a selection of her poems that she has graciously shared with Wordplay.

The Book

                —a poem from Lady Gaga’s point of view

It’s a book.
But it could be a hat.
Or a shoe.
Or an earring.

Perhaps I could have it surgically attached to my knee
Or I could weave the pages together
And make it into a mitten.
Or I could sing a song about it
Or have it tattooed on my shoulder!

Or—
Maybe, just maybe,
I could read it.

Created on: 
Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Guest Blogger: Zaza Karaim

Zaza KaraimZaza Karaim is thirteen years old and will be entering eighth grade at St. Michael's Parish Day School this coming fall. She loves writing poetry and playing guitar. Zaza volunteered this past summer at the Poetry Center's annual Creative Writing Camp. Below are a selection of her poems that she has graciously shared with Wordplay.

The White Cat Under a Shredded Black Cloak

The stars are holes in the dark night
The small points where day seeps through
A white cat under a shredded black cloak

The moon was the sun’s dearest friend
Peacefully willing to sleep through the day
But they fought one day and it was never the same

Earth longs to sparkle like the sun
So we light our torches
The sun laughs as our candles flicker and die

The earth and the sun and the moon
The twirling paparazzi and the smiling star
So different from the lonely white spot in the night
Yet still, at dawn, they all hold hands

Created on: 
Thursday, September 27, 2012

Introducing Guest Blogger: Zaza Karaim

Zaza KaraimZaza Karaim is thirteen years old and will be entering eighth grade at St. Michael's Parish Day School this coming fall. She loves writing poetry and playing guitar. Zaza volunteered this past summer at the Poetry Center's Creative Writing Camp. Below are a selection of her poems that she has graciously shared with Wordplay. Keep an eye out for more blog posts and poetry from Zaza in the next couple months.

The Ocean

the ocean is calm
but the waves are crouching tigers
waiting to spring and slap the shore

Created on: 
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
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