Katrina’s Children:

River of Word's
Poetry & Art from Gulf Coast Youth

 

Louisiana Morning

Let morning come.
Let the gators wake.
Let the birds sing to the sun.
Let morning come.

Let the morning come.
Let the brown pelican
Swoop down to eat its breakfast,
Let the cypress knees bend to stretch again.
Let morning come.

Let morning come.
Let the baby’s cries
Wake the mother
To wake the father
Let morning come.

Let morning come.
Let the pirogues begin to swim in the bayou.
Let the morning come.
Let morning come.

Sarah Spain, Age 11 (in 2002)
Lafayette, Louisiana
© River of Words 2002

 

My Louisiana

The breeze
Lifts my hair
And
I do a dance
With the wind
The tall grasses
Waltz
With the cattails
And the cricket’s song
Skips
In the air
Like a bow on a fiddle
This is my Louisiana

Emily Bush, Age 12 (in 2002)
Lafayette, Louisiana
© River of Words 2002

 

Sisters by Toni Allen, Age 12 (in 2002)
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2002

 

Bayou Bedtime

Winds sing
Lovely lullabies
Soft and deep
Cranes dance
A bayou ballet
Then everything stops
Goes silent
And stars glow
With the fireflies in the sky
A pale moon rises
Night begins.

Monica Davis, Age 12 (in 2003)
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2003

 

Home

I am from the Estrellas, Celestines and Nolyas back home
from the dusty, crop-lined gravel roads of Mallet—
stalks of cane flittering in the wind

And from fresh pineapple ice cream
churned to perfection by the tired hand of my mother.
I am from sweltering evenings
spent basking among the cool shadows of fig trees,
and from persimmons and maypops and blackberry stained hands
sore from years of jacks and tic tac toe.

I am from acres of land littered with chickens, cows, hogs and cats—
a yard full of life.
And from adventures to the bayou—
returning home with a glittering jar of minnows
filled to the brim with the sludgy “Loo-Zee-Anna” water

I am from a plethora of Tupperware
cushioning my soggy cornbread crumbling in a pool of milk
And from rice and gravy cooked in mother’s stuffy kitchen—
washed down with a tall glass of Kool Aid.

My life is a rich history filled with stories left untold,
one that continues to grow with each passing moment
one that my children will explore—
when the time is right
and the cycle continues
through the lives of my grandchildren

Danielle Durousseau, Age 16 (in 2003)
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2003

 

To My Father

The spouseless
Tangerine
Slowly descends
Towards rippling gray waters
The sea cradles him
Like a newborn child

The stars begin to peek
By twos and threes
From the massive
Somber blanket
Aloft

The full moon
Illuminates me
I can see myself
And faraway
Into the coming hours

The waters cleanse
My filthy hands
Of wounds and scars
Heal me
Feel me

Lend me your voice
Oh surging river
Sing of my love

Kara Guarisco, Age 13 (in 2003)
Lafayette, Louisiana
© River of Words 2003

 

Reflections by Alyson Duhon, Age 13 (in 2002)
Lafayette. Louisiana
© River of Words 2002

 

Rockefeller Wildlife Preserve: Mid-August

The air is moist
The water bittersweet
A southern Gulf breeze sighs
Laughing gulls call
And cicadas click their
Luminous song
I smell the death scent
Of beached gars
And see the dreamy haze
Of oil on water
Nearby an alligator stares
With tabby eyes
A great heron startles
From its marsh bed
Standing on the rip-rap,
I peer at the water
And slowly hoist
The turkey neck on string
A blue-point crab
Grips the bait
I slyly dip the net
A good two feet away
And scoop up the crustacean
Without warning
And drop it into a bucket
To meet many friends,
Gifts of the Mississippi,
The day has reached its climax
Animals sleep through the heat,
Hiding in the wax myrtles
A snowy egret,
White plumage glistening,
Glides into the Roseau cane.

Kevin Maher, Age 12 (in 2000)
Lafayette, Lousiana
© River of Words 2000

 

My Giverny by Philip Cortese, Age 14 (in 2001)
Lafayette, Louisiana
© River of Words 2001

 

Blind Morning

My morning seizure
Stifles the siren
From second bunk I descend
As always I’ve
Left warmth for the promise
Of consciousness
I do not
Share the enthusiasm
Of my coffee
We trace the trail
To first light trample soy
And scatter rice
Noises of
Eighteen wheelers on the highway
The earth’s breath
Slight are the sun’s rays
Only the shivering rice pond
Stays the stars strength
From evolution’s
Grip we take
Natural selection
In the wake
Of the expanding universe
Two teal on the left

Kevin Maher, Age 15 (in 2003)
Lafayette, Louisiana
© River of Words 2003

 

Ode to a River Evening

After the rain, the river is still easy.
Hundreds of mosquitoes
Cover the banks like draped blankets.
Trees try to overlook the moon.
It darkens. The mosquitoes thin out.
They have had their share of water.
Moonlight seeps through leaves.
Ripples shimmer. Near the water
Mosquitoes tease a fish.
They follow its silver waves.
Full and content, the fish fades.
The water now murky,
No more light or movement,
Just the sound of water, still.

Jamie Trong, Age 15 (in 2003)
Vicksburg, Mississippi
© River of Words 2003

 

Unlikely Pond by Sarah Rogers, Age 18 (in 2004)
Florence, Alabama
© River of Words 2004

 

Us Men

waterproofed to the waist,
see a vision, that to us
only comes once a year.
We are grumbling, stalking
out to the shed, to the purr
of engines warming.
Our breath spirits the chilled wind.
All day, work.
For the first time I am a part of it,
deserving of the reward that will come.
We sink back into cold metal bunkers
dug along gumbo levees
the color of potter's clay.
Dried stalks & weeds sway as cover.
In the distance, floodwater
rises against the sunburst ray
of a dying day. I hear the geese faintly
honk & gaggle above me. I see silhouettes
dot the horizon. There are splashes
of touch & go, wings flapping.
Yes, I do hope they like it here.
My father reaches for his boy,
and I give in.

Eric Wiesemann, Age 15 (in 2000)
Vicksburg, Mississippi
© River of Words 2000

 

Starting Sundays

A soft touch wakes me from my slumber
“It’s coming,” is all he says.
I follow Dad to the balcony overlooking our familiar swamp,
tiptoeing as if I’m on a secret mission.
He sits down in his old white rocking chair
and I curl up on his lap as I always do.
No words are said; all we do is watch and wait,
wait for that daily miracle to emerge from over the trees.
Beyond the oaks and cypresses lies a quiet pond,
a landing zone for ducks and egrets.
Wind chimes dangle from the gazebo by our pool,
their melody mixing with sounds of water splashing from a nearby fountain.
I yawn and feel rough stubble along my father’s face.
Our breathing is now in unison—up down up down
The sun finally creeps slowly out, illuminating the brilliant sky
and the world has come to life once again.
It’s time to go, but I know that in a week we’ll be back,
back to start another Sunday.

Haley Binder, age 15
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2005

 

Persephone Pondside by Kevin Maher, Age 13 (in 2001)
Lafayette, Louisiana
© River of Words 2001

 

Berwick

I am from the brown water in a lake caged
From the Corps’ walls that greet the sun
I am from the cabin on the water
And the hand-built dock, littered with extensions of friends
I am from the tall cypress that move with the wind
From the hushed conversations the willows have with morning
I am from the fog off the water
And the winds from the south
I am from wax myrtles, hydrangeas and the scent of burnt sulfur.
I am from the mismatched eyes of our faithful Catahoula
And the crisp boat rides, trying to outrun December’s chill
I am from the Basin, watching the sun fall below the wall of man

Billy Creed, age 16
Denham Springs, Louisiana
© River of Words 2005

 

Nature Sleeps

The mountains, the rocks, the peaks
are sleeping,
Uplands hush
Thousands of swamp things are still,
Creatures under every bush
Crouch, and the bees
Rest in their honeyed ease,
In the sea fish swim,
And each bird folds its wings over its head.

Rafael Espinoza, age 14
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2005

 

The Water Journey by Rachel Sublett, age 13 (in 2003)
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2003

 

Pecan Island

The sun’s glamorous rays
break through the early morning fog
like arrows through air.
I sit in a blind,
wiggling my toes to keep warm
from winter’s defiant chill.
The lab returns from the pond
with the fresh scent of mud on her back.
The sun fades my invisibility
and animals are aware of my presence.
My deepest regards to the numerous teal
that have fallen to the bangs and blasts
of my shotgun—
but the taste of fresh duck is unforgiving

Parker Reaux, age 14 (in 2004)
Lafayette, Louisiana
© River of Words 2004

 

Fais Do-Do

The moon
A glowing orb
Image of what was
And what will be,
Sits on its shelf in the universe.
The stars,
Like ashes aflame,
Tango to an unheard music
In the dome overhead.
The bayou swirls and sings
A sluggish, mournful tune,
An ode to Evangeline
And the days of old.
Tree nymphs emerge
From the cypress and swamp maple,
To dance with cattails
And wooly rose-mallow.

Lauren Trahan, age 14 (in 2004)
Lafayette, Louisiana
© River of Words 2004

 

Sunset Lookout by Lynn Nguyen, Age 13 (in 2002)
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2002

 

Swamp Shack

The shack
Sitting on squat pillars
Tall cypress looming over
Separated
From the swamp
Filled inside
With potions and powders of a traiteuse
Cajun remedies
At all time
She is ready for anything
Even the raccoons and squirrels
On the bank
Wait
For a dose of magic.

Allison Alford, Age 12 (in 2002)
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2002

 

Still Waters

Not a ripple
As the sun sets
Reflections appear
Then disappear
Over and over
Colors
On
And off
Again and again
Moving pictures
In still water.

Heidi Fontenot, Age 13 (in 2002)
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2002

 

Summer on the Lake

That summer
Hot
Sticky
In our little cabin
Sun
Golden orange
Feet ready
To dip into the water
Water
Calm
Clear
Cool
Laughter
As if birds were fluttering
From our throats
That summer.

Jordan Taylor, Age 12 (in 2002)
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2002

 

Faces by Morgan Pier, Age 17
Florence, Alabama
© River of Words 2005

 

Twilight

Oh skies
of blue,
Cerulean shades,
Evening's painted beauty made
In artist's eye
flowing dark
Wisping crawl,
Whispering call
Of twilight glories shining

E.A. Blevins, Age 16 (in 2000)
Boutte, Louisiana
© River of Words 2000

 

Chlorination

Green tangles of
seaweed courting our
bony ankles in waist-high depths
ended our
lakeside excursions.
You accused the water
of being dirty when you saw the seagulls
and cursed the piercing stones of the water's
eroded floor in
girlish tongues.
I liked people-watching
and buying artificial
sugar-laden frozen treats and letting
the big kid pump the well,
washing the soft clinging
mud from my red-hot feet.
But then we began
a daily ritual of
skipping across
a scorching suburban street
towards the neighbor's fenced yard,
replacing sand
with concrete, and letting you
spend days afloat
pure toilet-blue water while I
sat immersed on the steps,
unable to touch the tiled bottom

Meghan Sitar, age 17 (in 1997)
Clarkston, Mississippi
© River of Words 1997

 

Free! by Samantha Edwards, age 13 (in 2004)
Punta Gorda, Florida
© River of Words 2004

 

Fishing on the Ouachita

I burn my lure beneath the surface,
Cordell redfin, real as a rainbow
you like to feast on.
Starving striped bass
cruising for a bleeding shad,
you rise swift as white gulls above me,
deep from your blue hidden kingdom.
I wait for the moment
when I feel your strike
like a flood swallowing a levee.
Your fight breaks the water,
silver courage stronger than this line.
It gives, you take,
becoming my wish for another day.

Tyler Sellers, age 8 (in 1998)
Vicksburg, Mississippi
© River of Words 1998

 

Wildcats by Cassie Julson, age 12 (in 2003)
Punta Gorda, Florida
© River of Words 2003

 

Sweetwater*

Beads of silver plummet from the sky
And are caught for a moment in the fingers of swaying pines.
Then, the drops fall to my brow,
Cooling the afternoon heat
Before disappearing into the crushed quartz,
Quartz brought by an ancient glacier.
Seeking to hold the riches in my hand
I hike on as if a treasure map were given.
I walk among the giant magnolias, turkey-foot oaks,
Beneath a canopy of pines, near a carpet of wildflowers.
I brush against the red cedars and smell distant memories.
Hiking down the hill
I enter the wet bottom land,
Where animals make their homes.
After crossing the bog on hurricane-fallen trees
I climb a gentle rise then down,
Following the magical sound I hear.
It is the rushing of water.
It is Sweetwater Creek.
Kneeling on the sandy shore of white
I see again the liquid silver.
Like an explorer of old,
I reach down and hold the treasure in my cupped hands.

*Sweetwater Creek empties into Juniper Creek. The Juniper enters into the Blackwater River. Sweetwater Creek is in the Blackwater State Forest in northwest Florida. It is a clear, wild and unpolluted stream.

Christa Glover, Age 10 (in 1998)
Pensacola, Florida
© River of Words 1998

 

Wild & Free—The River & Me by Naomi Celmo, age 15 (in 1999)
Ft. Myers, Florida
© River of Words 1999

 

Dear Aquarius

Dear Aquarius,
Tonight you bend
because the stars are fearless
enough to glow on you
They speak their truths in muted light
If one grain of sand is traced from a
twisting kiss in the North
to this forgiveness draped around my feet
then salvation lies in every loop and thrash
You keep your secrets well
in lengthy, passionate channels,
too gargling and gracefully
knitted to control
But Aquarius, I have
long held this view of you
basking in your semiprecious charm
When I was small, seven or so,
I'd put on brother's dingy jeans
and rill my way through silted grass,
to the steady saplings
blooming at your edge
Toe by toe, foot by dirtied foot
I disappeared
Everything from the mirror down
was me no more

Kt Harmon, Age 17 (in 2000)
Vicksburg, Mississippi
© River of Words 2000

 

Close up of Nature by Jessica Sage, age 13 (in 2003)
Rotonda West, Florida
© River of Words 2003

 

Beyond My Window

The trees are naked now
Remnants of their summer blankets litter the ground
unembarrassed by their bare bodies they stand tall
limbs reach with bony fingers for cryptic reasons
the crisp bite of the evening air makes me shiver
but not them
how odd the trees are
their boldness to stand and be noticed
to go exposed in the coldest part of the year
they need no coat or woolen socks
this is their time to be seen
I can see them dance beyond my window at night
An elaborate and arcane ballet
Swaying in cadence with the wind
They throw parties every now and then
All birds welcome
Rest on our shoulders
You have quite a journey yet
In the summer they rest
Slumber beneath a quilt of green

Daniel Koepp, age 17
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2005

 

And You Dance

You are of water,
tiny droplets of light.
The motion in you,
a property of liquid.

How do you make your body
glide in such a luminous way
and move in perfect time
to the rhythm of the music,

flowing through us
like water making its way
through even the most
twisted landscapes?

The way you dance is an
elixir, a stunning mixture
of liquid and light,
inviting the hours to slip by.

I want to dance
to the point of liquidity
and have the music brim
from my fingertips, too.

Lauren Carlisle, Age 18 (in 2002)
Vicksburg, Mississippi
© River of Words 2002

 

Untitled by Brett Bennett, age 13
Punta Gorda, Florida
© River of Words 2005

 

I Am From

I am from a world of mischief
from accidental backyard fires
and hidden tree fortresses which lay above the world of reality
where the sap made my fingers sticky and the
woods soaked my shirt with the smell of pine.

I am from excavated hidden treasures,
the honeysuckles beyond the backyard and the berries deep in
the bushes which always trickled my mouth with a bittersweet
surprise. I revealed the cattails’ plush interior and the free spirit
of daffodils being tossed about my head by the power of a
gentle spring breeze.

I am from accident-prone adventures:
I have felt the piercing stab of a pond’s intensely frigid waters as
sheets of ice break below;
I have been pounded by the weight of a vending machine as my
curiosity suffocated my senses.

I am from a unique family,
the values and cultures of many worlds integrated within one
household.
Expressive Norwegian art flared with the rustic artifacts of
Peruvian ruins,
the collaboration which keeps a home consistent and secure
through the wear and tear of multiple moves.

I am from the memories.
I am from the hikes to spiritual waterfalls and eye-opening
vacations to the places and lives of my ancestors.
I make all these memories; therefore, I come from me.

Caroline Greene, Age 17 (in 2002)
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2002

 

My Precious Water, I Kiss You by Parkpoom Poompana, age 15 (in 1996)
Ft. Myers, Florida
© River of Words 1996

 

The Essence of Summer

Heads bob in and out of the blue-edged water,
Fluorescent pink and neon yellow inner tubes
Float lazily around.

I lay my head down on the dock,
The wood gritty and warm beneath my skin.

The wind breathes on my wet toes in the midday heat.
The sun plays with my sunburned forehead,
Burning the way a spicy-sweet chili pepper feels
When it first enters your mouth.

My bathing suit clings to me like a second skin,
As the water flirts and dances around me.

I cup the water in my hands,
And slowly allow the liquid to escape through
The cracks of my fingers,
As I let the essence of summer slip away.

Fairfax Banks, age 14 (in 2003)
Lafayette, Louisiana
© River of Words 2003

 

Freedom Undisturbed by Jonathan Weitzel, age 12 (in 1996)
Ft. Myers, Florida
© River of Words 1996

 

If I Lived in Water

If I lived in water
I would swim
All around the sea
Eat algae
With my friends
Play with seashells
Dive into the deep waves
Looking for adventure
Then I would float to the top
And see the big yellow sun
Staring back at me.

Nayat Hamideh, Age 12 (in 2002)
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2002

 

Watersheds by Larry Hayes, age 9 (in 1996)
Naples, Florida
© River of Words 1996

 

Wet Nurse

She harbors us in wispy tendrils,
Wraps us in lilies, swaddles us in cattails.
She has made a nest, a cradle,
In her ripe and watery bed.
She sings to us her ancient lullabies:
The screech-screech owl, the willow’s lament;
She has made her alien tongue
Soft melody to young, green ears.
She rocks us in languid water
Churned by currents, swirled by fish.
She has found us solitude in strangeness
Soothing us in eeriness.
She is not our mother.
Our mother was the meadows, the forests.
She did not grant us life.
Life was made by the turbulent seas.
We came to her already made;
She took us in and remade herself.
She has forged a home for her invaders,
Changed her shape to welcome us;
Like the children we no longer are
We forget we are become hers.

Christina Welsch, age 16
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
© River of Words 2005

 

The Storm Is Coming

Wind whistles through
The pine needles twirl
Sawgrass sways
While clouds dash by
Little creatures hide
The pond waters splash
Rain gushes down
And tickles my toes

Kevin Brown, Age 5 (in 2000)
Lake Park, Florida
© River of Words 2000

 

Vital Signs by Adolfo Juan, age 18 (in 1997)
Ft. Myers, Florida
© River of Words 1997

 

The Clouds Are Once Again Too Big

I once dreamt I was a fisherman,
fearless and untouchable
casting from dusk 'til dawn,
catching the largest red snapper
known to man.
I was on an expedition in the Galapagos.
An open plain stretched for miles
to a ledge overlooking
a waterfall, its crystal blue
freeness gleaming in the sun.
And when night fell,
ebony water wept with the moon.
A whistle of silence
blew over the whitecaps.
I found myself
once more, a fisherman
out to sea. The clouds
overwhelmed with a power I wish I had,
to see as they do, all that
they control. Instead, I drift on,
held captive in a net of blue embrace.

Lyndsey Turner, Age 16 (in 2000)
Vicksburg, Mississippi
© River of Words 2000

 

Watershed by Iliana Salazar, age 9 (in 1996)
Naples, Florida
© River of Words 1996

 

Tide

The waves gently stroke the sand,
then pull away discreetly,
as if I had done something
to offend their presence.
The blue-green breeze slips in
through a crack in the window.
Billowing the white curtain
like a sail at sea.

Hans Van Lancker, Age 15 (in 2000)
Stuart, Florida
© River of Words 2000

 

Gusts

The blue-green haze slips in
through a crack in the window.
Billowing the white curtain
like a sail at sea.

Hans Van Lancker, Age 15 (in 2000)
Stuart, Florida
© River of Words 2000

 

Black Bird by Trevor Schuler, age 14 (age 2003)
Punta Gorda, Florida
© River of Words 2003

 

Behind the Light House Hotel

Gulf Shores, home, tradition.
Brightly painted VW Beetles and Jeeps
Cruise the strip-gift stores, surf shops,
And that club, The Pink Pony Pub.
Hotel parking lot, broken shells for turf,
Spring breakers just back from Panama City
Still decked in shorts, t-shirts, & sandals.
The tepid, salt air fans across the sound,
Kicking up the corners of blankets, beach towels
Scattered along the white beach.
Clear water as far as Cuba and the Yucatan Peninsula.
Dolphins jest and jump in the distance, not too far
Shrimp boats and oil tankers.

Cute boys with built bodies, skim board along the shore
Surf rolls in, kissing toes, sucking silt back with it,
Palm trees and star fish fingered gingerly onto the sand
By a teenage girl uncomfortable in her two-piece,
Eye-candy for a school boy
Just out for a short holiday.
Sun sets slowly in the west,
The beach abandoned by seven,
Overtaken by jellyfish,
Sand crabs, and miniature hermits.
Like ebb and flow,
Tomorrow will be the same.

Amanda Miller-Hudson, Grade 9 (in 2001)
Vicksburg, Mississippi
© River of Words 2001

 

Trout Temptations by Stephen Rawl, age 14 (in 1999)
Ft. Myers, Florida
© River of Words 1999

 

Unwelcoming Wild

I. It was in the paper,
The story about the missing boy
Who became lunch for a 10-foot gator,
And the one about the family
Who found the girl's body floating
Near the bank, shredded like silk.
No one praises these
Primitive mothers and fathers,
Nor compliments their eying care,
Protecting their young
With stroking confidence as they slide
Belly-first into the river,
A deep mud-swollen vision
Of the wild--unwelcoming wild.

II. The loon's home is not his own,
Not the way was
When the fish-catching bird went south.
Summer is near,
The thawed-through ice now a river.
The diamond-shaped eddies reflect
What life is for--survival.
The living log rises,
Shares a staring moment
Eye to eye. The exhausted loon
Decides it's time to find another home.

Jaime Brame, Age 17 (in 1999)
Vicksburg, Mississippi
© River of Words 1999

 

Clean Life by Daniel K. Thompson, Jr., age 12 (in 1998)
Titusville, Florida
© River of Words 1998

 

In My Dream

In my dream I was a stream,
a mighty one at that.
And every morning I'd warm up,
the golden sun across my back.
Yet each night I would grow
lonely, cold, and black.
The shadows would move
like crows,
not a single comfort there
except for that illusion of you,
sweet river,
in that blueness of the moon.
And the next morning
you would greet me,
dream currents flowing on to sea.

Gwinnie Timberlake, Age 15 (in 1999)
Vicksburg, Mississippi
© River of Words 1999