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For some reason when I'm really sad,
I read my own poems and stop feeling bad,
and then I find some kind of inspiration,
which is a relief, because not finding any is a fustration.

When I start to write I have to be careful,
and with my words I have to be really gentle,
because if i say anything about something I want to discuss,
I might end up saying something about someone which might be to obvious,
and then everyone will know about who I am talking about,
and it won't be something I'll be able to keep out,
so somepeople might think badly of me,
and that's not how I want it to be!

So now everytime I remember when I write,
I try to be somehow polite,
and try not saying anything bad,
that would end up making someone mad,
although sometimes it is hard to do and I make mistakes,
so remember that everytime my memory breaks.
 

I'm so happy,
that I'm happy,
Oh how I'm trying to be happy!

But I am bored, 
Oh dear me,
I have no idea of what to do.

So I type and type,
random words,
so that I get some sense of humor....
 

I want to write a poem,
but what to write?
I'm running out of ideas,
and who has the fault?
my mind.

By Judit Duran Calzada

I want to write a poem,
but I don't know what to write,
then my friend told me:
do a poem about an object.

 But then I think :
what can it be?
Maybe my pencil sharpener
which has the shape of a bee!

No, but this object is too stupid and bad,
I don't think this is a good one,
even the small kids will think I'm mad.

But then I think :
what can it be?
Maybe my pencil,
which I stuck down my mum's favorite recipe!

No, but this object is too dumb,
it looks like in the recipe,
I have stuck a crumb.

But then I think:
what can it be?
maybe a plant,
what about an oak tree?

No, but this object is too weird,
it isn't even an object,
it's a trunk with a beard!!!!

But then I think :
what can it be?
maybe a photo,
of a refugee!

No, but this object is too plain,
I could even make out of it,
a paper airoplane!

 But then I think :
what can it be?
I am tired of looking
ideas up in the dictionary!

Then my other friend said :
why isn't your project,
called an object!

Then I shout:
yes that's it!
And I finally wrote on the top of the page,
the title,
AN OBJECT.

By Judit Duran Calzada
 

wierdthingy, wierdthingy,
wierdthingy, I don't care,
they don't even obey the wierd poem I've written,
about the discusting mitten.

They just think about their poem,
"oh how good it is" they say,
because they don't want to here my poem,
and that is not fair.

the poem is what you are doing right now,
I say,
And this thime they don't listen,
because they are practicing a play!
AND THEY WANT ME TO GO AWAY!!!!!!


By Judit Duran Calzada