If Cows Could Fly

To celebrate National Cow Appreciation Day, these creative teen authors wrote poetry. We had a blast in this class about storyboarding!  These teen authors were also teen illustrators of the first order.     Mahala

If a cow could fly just like a fairy,
It definitely would rain all that dairy.

The sky would be dotted black and white
They're not afraid to put up a fight!

So be careful what'cha say about a cow,
Because you might become their new meaty chow.


If cows could fly,
the supermarkets would have a serious problem.

If the cows flew up high,
It would rain milk out of the sky.

Not only would we get free milk,
But that could lead to more cookies.

More cookies leads to more cookie-making rookies.
We'd need superheroes to defend this new cookie empire.

So, in comes the flying cows,
To douse any cookie fires.

Over time, the world would turn into Sugarland,
With flying cows, milky lakes, giant cookies, fat citizens, and the banana boat band.


Moo...what's that?
Moo...sounds like
Moo...a panicked ol' Bess.

Moo...come back down,
Moo...ol' Bess!

Moo...we can't milk you,
Moo...if you're way up there!


If cows could fly,
They'd poo in my eye.

They'd cause earthquakes when they land,
And they'd start a cow family band.

Touring the skies,
They'd sing about flies.

And when the day is done,
They'd eat onions.

And the Alien Is

Here's two final funny takes on their new alien history teacher from Barefoot Writing Academy's creative teens.

She has a voice like a raven and a stench like a skunk, and an organized desk that's floating in gunk.

I shake her hand - it's sticky like sugar - and I realized her face is the shade of a booger.

That's all fine, but the drawback is there's slime all over my Constitution quiz.
                                                                                 by Claire Powers

 

My first day of school and there's an issue.

My new history teacher needs a tissue.

Her face is green with slime all over
I really hope she doesn't think I'm just a pushover.

And I heard her name's Pam.

When I bumped her arm
I let out a gasp of alarm.
It felt like mine
But her eyes were as big as a sign.

She frightened me so much that my mouth was dry
I tasted salt and smelled turkey on rye.

To remove it, I was just about to ask,
Then I realized, oh..wait... It's not a mask.
                                                           by Brenna Meehan