Hi Math is Everyone and Fall Writing Frenzy Friends,
Whew, these analyses of the Fall Writing Frenzy winners have been so wonderful! And I’ve really enjoyed getting the author insights as well, so much extra fun together! If you missed the first three weeks of Analyzing the winner’s work from Fall Writing Frenzy 2020, check out the first week here, second week here, and third week here!
Every week I will try my best to share 5-8 pieces from the Fall Writing Frenzy Winners that have something similar, a theme, if you will. (Figurative gold star if you get the theme in your comment ;))
Please use the comments to share what you think is working for the pieces and why, and you even what you think can be improved if you notice anything. Then you can respond to each other’s comments and of course come back to the blog on Fridays for interviews and giveaways!
Please make sure to be constructive.
We want to learn and grow together in a safe environment.
For example, if you think a piece was rambling (something I often do lol) please don’t say, “They’re rambling forever, can’t they just stop?” Try, “It seems to be a bit on the wordy side, maybe consider cutting out certain parts.”
Thanks for joining in the conversation!
Now off we go!
By Ana Gascon Ivey
I see the world as a canvas of colors
White boys, white heroes
Black boys, black saviors
White girls, white witches
White girls in black stitches.
But I am not white or black,
I am brown.
Brown like the center of a sunflower stretching toward the sun.
Brown like the cinnamon my abuela sprinkles over tres leches cake to give it sabor.
I gaze at the mirror and see my canvas,
my radiant brown skin
lighting up my bedroom with power,
illuminating myself with self-love.
I twirl in circles, dancing to the beat of my Latin ancestors.
They say the color of my skin does not define me, but they’re wrong.
It is who I am. It is my superpower.
It’s the color of my Papi’s smile as he crowns me with a tiara. It’s the color of my Mami’s fingers as she zips my white dress.
It’s the color of my people’s sweat and blood as they raise their fists to fight for my future.
Brown is the color of hope, promise, and courage.
I see my world as a canvas of color,
Brown boys, brown girls
brown dreamers in a black and white world.
By Aixa Perez-Prado
Brujita Boo prepares her brew,
A bit for her, a taste for you,
Putrid potion full of snails,
Cucarachas, dirty nails,
Sapo tongues and lizard tails.
Adds growl of perro, scratch of cat,
Murcielago and whiny brat,
Gooey, slurpy, zombie brain,
Earwax, mocos, tummy pain,
Relampago and hurricane.
Brujita sips her steaming stew,
Wings spring from Brujita Boo.
Fly her over bats with fleas,
Espantapájaros in trees,
High above the siete seas.
Until her wings turn into scales,
Her piernas, spiky dragon tails.
Diving deep beneath the waves,
Skulls and bones in creepy caves.
Explorando pirate graves.
Then she rockets to the moon,
Where she hobnobs with a goon,
Werewolves prowl ‘round Saturn’s ring,
Hocus pocus snip life’s string,
Los fantasmas dance and sing.
Come and taste Brujita’s brew.
There’s enough to share with you.
Take a sip, it’s not too hot,
Goes down smooth, like slimy snot.
Pura magia in the pot.
You could turn into a bat!
Momia, ogro, ghost, or rat,
Ven, come closer, it’s for you.
Bubbling, burbling, magic brew,
The Haunted House
By Kirsten Leestma
“Let’s go to a haunted house.”
“We ARE the haunted house, Bob.”
“Yeah, I know, but don’t you ever get tired of being spooky?”
“I’m a skeleton. I’m very good at being spooky. Also, baking.”
“Come on, I know just the place. Verrrrry spooky. It got a five-star rating on Gulp.”
“Oh really, Bob?”
“Really. My bones are already shaking.”
“What could possibly scare us? We are professional skeletons. The best in the biz.”
“That’s true, but I promise this place will really rattle you, Frank!”
“Fine, but I need to be back in an hour. I have a pumpkin pie in the oven.”
“Here we are! Oh, I don’t think I can go in!”
“Bob, this was your idea. This place doesn’t look spooky at all!”
“Read the sign, Frank.”
COME MEET YOUR BEST FRIEND
BLANKETS, TREATS, AND BONES!
I Need A Hero
By Karen Pickrell
I came dressed for the part. I take my role very seriously. How am I supposed to save the world with this ragtag team?
Who’s in charge of wardrobe here? Who ever heard of Captain America with a blue beaded necklace and a dinosaur bucket?
And who cast this leading lady? This super model princess towers over me. She’s twice my size. What kind of crazy casting agent assigned these parts, anyway?
Goth girl and little witch, get rid of the pink shoes, for crying out loud. You’re making us look soft.
Army dude, wipe that smile off your face. You’re supposed to look menacing. How are we superheroes supposed to be taken seriously?
And cat woman, make up your mind. Are you a cat or a cowgirl? Don’t look at me like that. Lose the flowery boots and the attitude. I don’t have time for this.
Look like me, team! Look tough!
Ugh. Forget it. Stand aside. I guess I’ll have to save the world myself with my plastic ninja sword.
THIS HALLOWEEN NIGHT
(a poem for two voices)
By Tina Mowrey
Tonight, I’ll go out.
I’d rather stay in.
My costume looks great.
This book makes me grin.
I say, “trick-or-treat”.
We turn out the lights
The candy piles up.
The popcorn’s just right.
Some goblins and ghosts.
A movie with Mom.
Carved pumpkins aglow.
It’s perfect and calm.
My friend’s haunted house
My dad’s pumpkin pie.
It’s scary, but fun.
This evening flies by!
I see the last house.
I look at the clock.
I pick up my pace.
The door, I unlock.
“Brianna, i’m here!”
“Hooray! Come inside.”
The best stop is last.
My friend has arrived.
We sit on the floor.
She dumps out her loot.
This Halloween night
Is best spent with you.
by Nicole Loos Miller
He gasped, taking his first breath in over a year.
Halloween. She must be close.
He flexed his fingers, smiling. Soon he’d be able to move his whole body, if only for one night.
Ten years ago, she’d been playing with her homemade wand in the cornfield. The green spark surprised them both – landing on the scarecrow’s chest, igniting a beat within his heart.
Now, she was eighteen. The farm had been sold. It would be their last night together before he was torn down, his fields paved.
Dried cornhusks crunched underfoot as she approached. He climbed down, limbs awkward with disuse.
His heart ached as her green eyes pierced through him. She was different this year – taller, face thinner. But that same mischievous smile sent a tingle across his burlap skin.
She reached out and nestled her fingers between his.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
His reply caught in his throat.
She laughed – a bright, silver sound.
His heart beat like a caged bird.
“I made a wish,” she said, leaning close. She smelled of cloves and fallen leaves.
Her lips on his.
But this time, it spread.
He was alive.
Thank you all for joining us for the Week 3 Analysis of the 2020 Fall Writing Frenzy winners by sharing in the comments. I’m looking forward to learning and growing with you! Please remember to share on Twitter and come back next week for more analysis!
Kaitlyn Leann Sanchez
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