colors of love

The Colors of Love
By Milan H.

Red is the color I turned when Mark Adams first kissed me on the cheek. I said I most certainly did not like him, and he said he could prove I was lying. He knew a special test. By changing colors I failed the test, and he couldn’t stop laughing.

Orange was the color of our fingertips when we finished a family-sized bag of Cheetos. We stayed up all night watching “Star Wars” movies. Mark couldn’t believe I’d never seen a George Lucas film. We didn’t eat popcorn because he had lost his popcorn-popping privileges. He didn’t tell me why; he just said it was a dark day in the Adams household.

Yellow daffodils were pushing up from the ground when he took me to the park, saying we must “celebrate spring.” He brought an enormous red kite, the kind that has a tail with ribbons. As we sat in the grass, he undid the sun-colored ribbon in my brown hair, adding it to the tail of the kite. We ran all around the park to keep our kite flying, the ribbons waving.

Green was the color of Mark’s face after we rode the biggest roller coaster in the amusement park. He’s afraid of them, but he rode it anyway to prove that he was “man enough,” I guess. When the ride was over, he dashed to the nearest trash can, emptying his stomach. So much for manhood. I couldn’t stop laughing. That is, until he said if I didn’t stop, he’d kiss me on the mouth. Barf kiss: gross!

Blue envelopes are tied up with string in a shoebox under my bed. Love letters Mark left in my locker, signed, “Your secret admirer, Mark.” I told him signing his name defeated the purpose of a secret admirer, but he said he didn’t care.

Indigo ink on the palm of his hand where he wrote “I love you.” I kissed his palm, and all of his fingers, before settling on his mouth.

Violet roses I received a week before our anniversary. We never exchanged gifts on that day. He said red ones were overdone. “Besides,” he added, “violet is the color of passion.” He waggled his eyebrows, and I laughed, hitting him lightly on the arm.

The colors of the rainbow are the ties that bring Mark and me together. Growing ever stronger, they portray our love.

poems

Homework, I Love You
by Kenn Nesbitt

Homework, I love you. I think that you’re great.It’s wonderful fun when you keep me up late.I think you’re the best when I’m totally stressed,preparing and cramming all night for a test.
Homework, I love you. What more can I say?I love to do hundreds of problems each day.You boggle my mind and you make me go blind,but still I’m ecstatic that you were assigned.
Homework, I love you. I tell you, it’s true.There’s nothing more fun or exciting to do.You’re never a chore, for it’s you I adore.I wish that our teacher would hand you out more.
Homework, I love you. You thrill me inside.I’m filled with emotions. I’m fit to be tied.I cannot complain when you frazzle my brain.Of course, that’s because I’m completely insane.


Food Fight
by Kenn Nesbitt

We’d never seen the teachersin a state of such distress.The principal was yellingthat the lunchroom was a mess.
It started off so innocentwhen someone threw a bun,but all the other kids decidedthey should join the fun.
It instantly turned intoan enormous lunchroom feud,as students started hurlingall their halfway-eaten food.
A glob went whizzing through the air,impacting on the wall.Another chunk went sailing outthe doorway to the hall.
The food was splattered everywhere—the ceilings, walls, and doors.A sloppy, gloppy mess was onthe tables and the floors.
And so our good custodianran out to grab his mop.It took him half the afternoonto clean up all the slop.
The teachers even used some wordswe’re not supposed to mention.And that’s how all the kids and teacherswound up in detention.