My mom took me to Malibu
There I saw crabs, dolphins and even a lobster.
Yes, that is true.
There were surfers and divers too
It was so cool!
I felt happy
The sky was blue,
And to mommy I want to say,
Grade 1, Tarzana
Fly in the air
They look like Pteranodons
I see them dive
Into the water
Like a torpedo
They gulp a fish
Then they fly home
Kindergarten, Redondo Beach
When I surf I have fun. When I surf and I am done, I
can swim along the shore and snorkel in the sun all
day. I like to swim in the San Clemente bay avoiding all
the manta rays.
The leopard sharks are dark and brown and the sand
sharks live deep deep down.
When I feel something at my feet and I think that it's
bad, I swim to the shore and I tell my stepdad.
When I get to shore my mom feeds me some wasabi,
and now I'll tell you my favorite hobby.
Skim boarding is fun, it's my favorite thing to do. Next
time you go to the beach, you should try it too.
Grade 2, San Clemente
Winters in Malibu
On the coast of California winter is always so magical
Forget the snow and the freezing weather,
We have miles and miles of vivid scenery
Point Dume, Zuma Beach, El Matador, never dull.
Here is all about sunlight, waves, white sand and spending time together.
Families come out ready to play
Teenagers taking pictures, whatever!
Surfers ride the day away
Yogis seeking surrender...
Everybody is looking forward to watching the sunset,
Oh the sunsets in Malibu,
There is nothing better!
Grade 3, Tarzana
The Amazing Marine Life
They live in wild life.
Otters eat crabs and sea urchins.
Pups are with mothers.
Ocean looks shiny.
Ocean waves crash together.
The water is cool.
Take care of water.
Don't throw garbage in the water.
Use less plastic stuff.
Bring joy to the beach.
Make rainbows over waters.
Bring ocean life back.
Grade 3, Los Angeles
in the Soundless
at the Bright
swing and sail
Grade 5, Los Angeles
The Salty Wonderland
The magnificent ocean.
The crashing waves,
breaking out a streak of white.
The salty air stings my eyes.
It has been there for wars big and small.
It is a host to creatures of the deep
and the shallow.
I see shells,
the diamonds in a sea of sand.
Timeless, the salty wonderland.
Grade 5, Cardiff
A shadow of its glorious former self
Broken and ruined
It used to have totem poles, coin collections, and shells
Now merely a legend
It had grandeur, museums filled to the brim
The Panorama of the World
Photos, mummies, pinned insects, and stuffed animals
A poised snake curled
It was a majestic saltwater pool complex
Boasting warm and cool
With children pushing and shoving to go next
An Elysium after school
It was only finite, however eminent and opulent
This paradise bound to end
Water slides, diving platforms, trampolines, and trapezes
A scorched remnant from a mysterious blaze
A treacherous assembly of
Salty pools, crumbly walls, weathered tunnels and rusty pipes
Now one with the rugged Sea Cliff
A destination for daring hearts and romantic souls
Grade 5, Dublin
Above the turning waves
Over the crest
Through the trough
A bird glides
Wings long, white
Tipped with black
Not a wingbeat for several days
The albatross rides the current
Of the wind of the waves
Sleeping on the wing
Three years at sea
Following schools of fish
Never touching land
When the albatross returns
To the land where he was raised
What does he feel?
A homecoming after a long trip?
Or a sudden pull
That only Albatross feel
Back to sea
Above the turning waves
Over the crest, through the trough
He flies on
Grade 9, Freedom
Umbrella on the Coast
Cold, wet, and salty
teeth chattering up and down
my vision blurred by flailing hair
circling my head like seagulls.
I look at the waves of water
how they reflect the clouds in the sky
as dark winter breezes tornado around me.
The umbrella, what is it for, if it cannot keep me dry?
Its metal veins so thin and fragile
black silk that buffers only mist
is no match for the pelting rain and wind
of the mighty coast
at Rodeo Beach
Kaylia Roark Hernandez
Grade 9, Fairfax
A plastic island
Reminding us of our sins
This guilt outlives us
Grade 7, Belmont
This is Where the Woods End
A bobcat kit
far from home.
She runs nowhere
from the thickness of the redwoods
that loom like monsters in the dark.
Her heart beating fast,
she races toward the light.
Only to find,
a sheering cliff.
This is where the woods end.
make up the cliff,
their steady roots growing away from the sea
like a timid child who runs
when the water gets too close.
The bobcat whimpers in fear
but it's as if the ocean knows,
and plays a song just for her.
The rhythmic sweep
of foam and waves
soothes her mind
and comforts her heart.
So high up,
the sea seems so thin,
like a white sheet that
can be folded seven times.
The silver waves continue to fall,
as if the moon were combing
Mother Nature's hair.
This is where the woods end.
And where the sea begins.
Grade 10, Pasadena
"Venus, planet of love, was destroyed by global warming"
(From "Nobody" by Mitski)
Somewhere far away from a city full
of elevators drowning with people,
has marked a coastline with a wet finger.
And on this line of surrender, I,
a city boy, search escape. City boy whose hair matted
smog and productivity. City boy
and the sky rolls
with boulders, sunlight barely
large enough to crawl through.
The body before me: solitary
but glinting teeth. A body of breaking.
A wave shatters into sea spray on the rocks,
and I imagine the yawning maw of the ocean
the house behind me.
Where the sun will meet the water like
an upturned scoop of disappointment
into asphalt, I do as my father does, cleaving
the horizon for meaning until my vision
speckles into flies.
Another wave, heavy with fish frothing scales.
And I imagine a child searching for
trinkets in a home
that used to swell with voices.
The ocean no louder than a street corner.
My father before me too toed the sand
when he found his pockets sunken by too much
and not enough coin.
What a reckoning, to stand on the cusp of
a churning iris that only
Every corner of the city now stained by rust,
a school of bluefin tuna streak silver down a freeway,
and I am reminded,
as my father was, that what I was searching for
was not escape.
I wanted permanence.
Grade 11, Valley Village
a bit of foam, roaring waves
It starts with the slightest touch
Just a bit of foam creeping up on the beach
Veined like a gemstone, bordered with lacy froth
Weaving between grains of sand to
meet skin with the slightest prick of cold
More waves rush in like wild horses
beckoning for the shore to melt into sea
an undeniable, irresistible call
like a murmur emanating from the curve of a small shell
The whisper becomes a growing roar
The cry of icy tides striking jagged rocks
The wail of unruly surf echoing in the sky
The indignant screams of seagulls
and indomitable waves thundering in symphony
Grade 10, San Jose