This is one of my poems. It is about the beach.

Please give me some feedback about this poem I wrote. I wrote this poem off of the painting called The Horse Fair.

This is one of my poems. I think that this is my favorite poem because I liked how I thought that paintings can be memories. I wrote off of the paintings called L’Atelier Rouge.

This is a text that I wrote about where  I am from. I like writing these texts because I like to think about what makes me unique from everyone else.

I am from the warm, fluffy pancakes that my mom cooks fresh every morning.  Smelling the fresh chocolate pancakes makes me want to wake up every morning.

I am from the beach.  The waves crash onto my knees, the seaweed tangles between my toes and the warm sand tickles my feet.  The seagulls chirp as my mom calls out for me.

I am from the trees.  I try to climb to the top of them almost every day of the summer,  but I am never able to.

I am from the tennis court.  Not wanting to stop playing until my dad and I play a fair match.   But he always wins.  I wish one time he would let me win.

I am from my mom’s warm chocolate chip cookies.  The chocolate dissolves in my mouth.  Every time she makes them I can’t wait to eat them.

I am from playing basketball.  I love to.  I played against my brother everyday I had time. He usually beats me.  I have won once.

I am from riding the same boat every time we go to Italy.  As my dad drives full speed my brother and I scream.  Afterwards we swim in the deep, wide and blue lake.

I am from the warm hugs my mom gives me every day when I come back from school.  I love them.

I am from my brother’s kicks and hits. Every day we get into a fight. Whenever I hit him I know he will just hit me back harder.

I am from my piano seat. I try my best to pass my exams. Playing for an hour every day, hitting those keys happily

I am from my friends and family. They support me through everything. I love being able to laugh and play with them.

When I look back, I know where I am from.

This is a excerpt of my first narrative. I have enjoyed writing a lot this year and I hope to do more. I hope you enjoy reading it and give me feedback.

Then my parents started talking again. They were whispering, and I knew that they didn’t want me to know what they were talking about. I could tell by how they were looking at me every few seconds. I wondered why they would do this because they have never kept a secret from me. This made me think if they would continue to keep secrets from me. Were they talking about me? As they talked faster there voice grew louder. I knew that this meant that they were worried, angry or confused. But then they started shouting. I felt like making them quiet because they were shouting at each other. All I wanted them to do is to stop shouting. I could picture the doctor’s look on his face. My mom then went over to my dad and started whispering to him. I really wanted to know what they were whispering about. So I tried to ask them but I remembered that all my mom would say is “Nothing.” When she wants to keep a secret. So I didn’t ask her.

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