CA Young Writers E-Anthology
San Diego Area Writing Project
UC San Diego http://create.ucsd.edu/sdawp/
July 27-August 13, 2004, Tuesday-Friday, 8:30 A.M.-11:30 A.M. For Students Entering Grades 3-10
 
Our Young Writers at San Diego Writing Project shared invaluable time this summer to glimpse our writing lives growing up in California- through a microscope, literally as they toured and wrote their stories at the College of Engineering at UCSD and also as they worked through the intimate work of the writing process with our key writing teachers. We share with you the highlights of our work, and a telescopic vision for our future California writers.
Table of Contents:
California by Maggie
Golden Gate Bridge
Hollywood
Beaches
California is my sweet mother
Nursed me from my birth.
California rolls and rolls in green grass
Heat waves, wafting along the street.
Sweaty soccer players
Trudging home from practice
And tan, tan children.
California holds
the forever smell of sunscreen
Cities, glowing in the dark.
Native American tribes
Spanish missions
Mexico in America
Etched into our lives.
California is hope for a new life
A definition of faith
California is my home.
Life as a Californian by Camille
Look past the bright Hollywood sign and the Paparazzi
Past the flaws that muffle the beauty
Please glance past the budgets, money, and good air that's been shattered
And stare at what is still here, that has been here, and what really matters
The vast open blanket of Pacific blue bliss
The emperor sun that stains his gleaming brightness
That swallows your eyes, overwhelms you in the midst of blue skies
And the warm sand that hugs your feet until you believe you're truly alive
Stare at the rolling green hills, sprinkled with sequoias and trees and iced with pinecones
The infinite seas of sands of cactus where the dry winds always groan
The mountains kissed with powder white snow, where the sky is so light and life seems to glow
The draped midnight blue scattered with. diamonds and jewels and stars that shine amongst
their blinding hue
Please stare at the swaying mysterious wind
Who looks so silent, but screams within
Past the technology, shops, and Rodeo Drive
Squint down to the core of what's most meaningful and alive
Listen to the heartbeats and breaths of the earth
The trust past the lies, hibernates beneath the dirt
Listen to the stories that haven’t been told
Breathe the wind that’s been there for centuries and eras
Breathe the freedom that cannot be sold
Gaze into the sapphire blue sky until you see the clouds whisper secrets
About the past, that's always been, and always will be here
Praise not the movie stars nor the buildings, but the ocean, the hills, the sand, and the wind
And then you will realize this is the true life of a Californian.
San Diego is Where I Live by Delaney
I wake up every morning
Sunny what a glory
Let’s go out and play
It’s a perfect day.
Kick around a soccer ball
Ride a bike. Please don’t fall.
Buckle up a roller blade strap
Run around and swim a few laps.
I watch the sunset fade outside
Or play at the beach in low tide.
Palm trees
Lay around all day
I wonder what they have to say
Birds hanging on to their leaves
Making nests,
Those little thieves.
San Diego is where I live.
California and India By Divya
California,
So small, so big,
Not as small as me,
And not as big as Canada,
So beautiful
Flowers popping out of the dark green grass
Tall trees proudly standing, trying to touch the sky,
Houses made of dry stucco and wood,
I am a Californian girl, who loves California,
Visit California to see all the beautiful sights,
India,
So small, so big,
Not as small as my brother’s P.E. short’s,
And not as big as Antarctica,
About the size of Australia,
So beautiful,
Baby birds chirping in a nest with its mother,
Tall coconut trees
Houses waiting
For a coconut to fall to the ground,
Colored concrete,
You have to India to see all the beautiful sights.
India and California,
Valleys,
Big, beautiful valleys,
Kashmir in India,
Napa, Sacramento, and San Juan in California,
Rivers,
Thick rivers full of water all the time,
Ganja and Carver in India,
Sacramento, San Juan, American, and Colorado in California,
Mountain Ranges,
Himalayas in India,
Costal ranges and Sierra Nevada in California,
I am a Californian-Indian girl who loves
Both
California and India.
California or Bust by Amy
I hear the distant annoying buzz of my alarm clock. Yawning, as I sit up in my blue cotton sheets, I think, today is another perfect day.
Whenever I meet a person from out of town, they usually admire me. When they ask me where I am from, and I say, ‘California’, they look at me as if I am a cup of hot chocolate on a snowy day. With a painful longing and a dreamy expression on their faces, they reply, “Wow, I wish I lived in California.” You can see their Adam’s apple throb, and almost hear their heart break.
I realize that I am infatuated with California. The salty sea air and toasty warm weather are enough to make anyone stay for good. Living here is like the alluring smell of a home cooked meal. However, being a native Californian all my life, sometimes I grow tired of this perfection. Isn’t there a time in all our lives when we want a snowstorm or to wake up in a freezing cold bedroom? Okay, maybe not. But still, doesn’t everyone at one point in life want to visit another state for a while and live in a whole other place?
People from England or Rhode Island envy Californians. The beautiful weather, the sunshine, the climate. Most we’re envied for our weather. Sometimes it’s funny to be envied when I would kill to take a walk in a massive rainstorm covered with drops of rain and listen to-the rain splashing on the glass window. I know everyone considers California the Golden State. Maybe there is not always sunshine, but someday I’d like to explore a less sunny paradise.
Sonrise in California by Vejea
to chew
[*a cool beverage in the
Caribbean]
I was born to season
A reason to weep
To reap
Dear father forgive me
This is the summer solstice
Do not equate my migration
To ungratefulness
I must follow the crop
Harvest blacktop brothers
And sistas yielded in concrete
Those impossible blossoms
I will return on the shortest
Day of Winter’s cold
Old as your feathered beard
Golden-brown as the year I was born
I was born to cross many rivers
Shiver through waters
A simple fish
Swimming backward
In blues currents
Solomon not salmon
Build waves between my temples
A simple fish of streams
Consciousness me
Musicians scale my back
A divine spine of chords
I was born yours
I was born a used book
Dawg-eared tradition
Notations written with
Melanin in the margins
Of my midnight skin
Why do people
Discount used books
When new books
Are just old trees
You are reading
This old me
Enjoy
I was born *Special
Colored a coconut’s skin
To be drank by eats
For the thirsty-eyed
Fruit-my-labor
For the hungry.
California Skyline by Stephen
Skies of building skies of blue
Skies of fog and pollution too
The light of the city dims in the dewy morning sky
The sky is glowing from faint lights
From muted lamps to sunny glares
As cities climb and wildlife dies and dissolves
From small to big
From town to city from happiness to busyness
From dirt to cement
From animals to people
From life to death
Poems by Alexandra
My California Family
My family is a woven quilt. My
Mother is the loom holding us all
Together, never letting us go
Sometimes she messes up our design
By spinning us too hard. My father the dye,
Easygoing and full of surprises.
My sister
The string
the one who is pesky
And gets tied up in too many knots. And
I am the design, the one who people
Gaze at, always new and artistic, We all
Mingle into a quilted family.
Writing
Writing beautifully writing.
My images come alive on my paper.
Poetry swimming in my brain, letting
It all out my mind begs to be expressed.
Forcing me to jot down every last word,
Letting me get lost and loose in my work.
Making my poems songs with lovely melodies.
My words flow magically in the air.
I am a writer. |
