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					Boom, boom, SCRIBE!

  We’re indeSCRIBE-able!




     an anthology of writing,
     submitted by Creative Inklings
     campers and teachers




                          Boom, boom, SCRIBE!   1
2   Creative Inklings
…for if I knew all I should,
I would not write.

            ~Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz
            (translation from the original)




                    Boom, boom, SCRIBE!       3
          Boom, Boom, Scribe

          Poem
          Amina Khatun


          Boom, boom, scribe!
          We’re indescribable.
          We write so awesomely
          that it’s unthinkable.
          Our stories are so flashing
          that they’re undefeatable.
          We write like authors
          and that gives us no bother.
          This camp is like really cool,
          and no one in it is a fool.
          Boom, boom, scribe!
          We’re indescribable.


          Boom, Boom, Scribe

          Poem
          Raquel Malcolm


          Boom, boom, scribe!
          We’re indescribable.
          No matter what,
          our writing is undeniable.
          Boom, boom, scribe!
          We’re indescribable.
          Our writing’s so good.
          It’s unquestionable.
          Boom, boom, scribe!
          We’re indescribable.
          You can’t describe us.
          We’re indescribable.




4   Creative Inklings
Flowers

Poem
Alexandra Chabowski


Flowers everywhere:
they brighten our world
with their spectacular colors.
They make the world colorful,
and they make it cheerful.
Flowers, with their wonderful smells,
make us forget about troubles.
With flowers, we relax.


Nature’s Gift

Haiku
Alexandra Chabowski


Flowers everywhere
Brightening gloomy worlds
Scents are left behind


Summer

Poem
Alexandra Chabowski


Summer day,
summer night.
The sun goes up.
The sun goes down.
Flowers bloom.
Summer day,
summer night.




                                        Boom, boom, SCRIBE!   5
         Friends

         Acrostic Poem
         Alexandra Chabowski


         Forever loyal
         Respect you
         Indicating who you are
         Eventually argue
         Nevertheless make up
         Decisions to agree upon
         Saving you from troubles


         Spring Night

         Poem
         Alexandra Chabowski


         The flowers stand still
         under the shining moonlight,
         under the shining stars.
         The crickets make noise.
         The wolves howl at the moon.
         The wind whistles low
         making the leaves move.
         Under the shining stars,
         the flowers stand still.


         Spring is Coming

         Tanka - a Japanese poem consisting of 31 syllables in 5 lines, with 5 syllables in the
         Alexandra Chabowski

         first and third lines and 7 in the others.


         Flowers are blooming
         Growing grasses are greener
         Tress are filled with leaves
         Days are filled with rain showers
         Finally spring is coming


6   Creative Inklings
Gloomy Rain

Poem
Alexandra Chabowski


The rain is falling
from the dark, sad clouds.
The rain is falling
leaving you to feel blue.

The rain is falling
making wet, muddy puddles.
The rain is falling.
There’s nothing to do.

The rain is falling.
Can’t help feeling blue.
The rain is falling:
a million little raindrops.


Dance

Poem
Alexandra Chabowski


Gracefully dance
Moving to every rhythm
Smiling brightly
Not showing any fear
Precisely dance




                              Boom, boom, SCRIBE!   7
          Untitled

          Poem
          Alexandra Chabowski


          I let go.
          I moved on.
          I forgot about you.
          But every time I see you,
          my heart pounds.
          Your eyes plea.
          I can’t breathe.
          You take my hand,
          holding it tight.
          You took me away.


          Me

          Poem
          Nadija Mujakic


          Anything that I’m going to be
          depends on me.
          I can make something delectable
          or be something incredible.
          A car I can drive.
          I might even have five.
          My future is unknown,
          but I know it can’t be torn,


          Pain

          Poem
          Nadija Mujakic


          My heart is mixed,
          and it can’t be fixed.
          You break it once.
          It recovers in months.
          But the pain will always stay.

8   Creative Inklings
Coldness

Poem
Nadija Mujakic


The water in the river
makes me want to shiver
‘cause the coldness—it brings me and
lets me remember—
the warmth of summer.


Colors & Rhymes

Poem
Nadija Mujakic


Just because we don’t have a clue
doesn’t mean we have to be blue.
Don’t just sit around in your bed.
Smell the flowers that are red.
If you like the color yellow,
then be kind of mellow.
The colors of the rainbow don’t mean anything to me,
but that doesn’t mean we can’t look and see.


Pi

Poem
Mrs. Gilbert-Ryle


Pi 3.14159265358979323846
Droplets of water
making perfect circles.
How does that happen?
Cylinder shaped water droplets
making circles.
Micro ones, gigantic ones!
Multitudes of diameter and radius
Pi 3.14159265358979323846


                                           Boom, boom, SCRIBE!   9
          Time

          Poem
          Ms. Kinsman


          Time just flies by.
          Time to get up.
          Time to go to work.
          Time to eat lunch.
          Time to relax.
          Time to work.
          Time to play.
          Time to eat dinner.
          Time to talk.
          Time to shower.
          Time to go to bed.
          Where did all the time go?
          By the way, what time is it?


          God’s Splendor

          Poem
          Mrs. Gilbert-Ryle


          One God, infinite species.
          Eternal God, assigned life spans.
          Omnipresent God, unnoticed patterns and details.
          Omnipotent God, even in the smallest blade of grass.
          Alpha and Omega in the blink of an eye.

          I see you in the eagles’ wing.
          I feel you in the swaying trees.
          I smell you in the daffodils.
          I hear you in the buzz of the bees.
          I found you in my breath, my heart beat, and the tiny hairs aligned up my arm.

          One God
          Creator



10   Creative Inklings
Why?

Poem
Mrs. Gilbert-Ryle


Whimsical whispers wondering within.
Hacking human hallucinations.
Yearning yaks yelp YYYYYYYYY??!!


An Adventure

Narrative
Luthfor Khan


         As I walk through a vast rainforest, which is too humid and too hot to
walk through, I see insects are everywhere. I finally made it to the top of a
cliff, looking down at my long hike. When I hike down the cliff, the sun will
burn my back and the hike will hurt my legs. It’s nice to know after a long
hike through the rainforest that I can stop and look at a serene view.


Pop Rocks

Onomatopoeia Poem
Luthfor Khan



Pop rocks are being dumped into my mouth.
Shake, shake, shake.


The pop rocks are about to explode.
Sizzle, sizzle.


The candy is bouncing around in my mouth.
Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop.




The Wind

Poem
Desmond Smith


I hear the wind blow
while the birds are chit-chattering.
It is so hot out here.

                                               Boom, boom, SCRIBE!                11
           An Ant’s Point of View

           Narrative
           Luthfor Khan


                  As ants crawl away, I wonder about their point of view. For an
           ant, every kid’s footstep must feel like an earthquake. For us, things
           are a lot different. Trails that take us a minute to walk must take a
           week without a distraction. The grass must feel like bendable trees.
           Pine cones act like genomes rocks. For the ants, the world must be
           a lot bigger. When the wind blows, it must feel like a hurricane, and
           when the wind blows through sand, it must feel like a sand storm.


           Cranbrook Garden

           Narrative
           Luthfor Khan


            The church bells are ringing. The flowers have just bloomed. The
           aroma of the flowers have merged together to create one wonderful
           smell. The birds are chirping as if they are saying good morning and
           hello to each other and to us. The wind moves and rustles the leaves
           of a huge tree. As I listen, I know that this is one of the most peaceful
           places to be.


           Against the Odds

           Diamente Poem
           Ms. Maslowski

           The Diamante is a form similar to the Cinquain. The text forms the shape of a
           diamond. (see format in the appendix).


                                             Cancer
                                    Destructible, Vindictive
                             Menacing, Debilitating, Encompassing
                            Powerful, Horrifying, Considerate, Caring
                             Dedicated, Determined, Strong-willed
                                         Woman, Aunt
                                            Patricia


12   Creative Inklings
Forest

Poem
Amina Khatun


A forest with leaves, lush and green,
with trees, fruits, and vegetables like beans.
You take in the air,
and life seems fair.
Birds here and there,
animals roaming everywhere.
It’s a beautiful place to be—
a peaceful place for you and me.
You must believe me for I am no faker.
This forest is full of life in every acre.


Chair

Poem
Amina Khatun


Chair, oh chair, when I sit upon you,
I might be happy or I might be blue.
For myself, I feel sorry,
but you don’t have to worry.
You’re serving me well,
just like you should.


The Winter

Poem
Desmond Smith


The winter is cold.
The snowflakes fall from the sky.
I will catch a cold.




                                                 Boom, boom, SCRIBE!   13
          Bombastic

          Acrostic Poem
          Amina Khatun


          Boom
          Outstanding
          Miracle
          Bursting
          Amazing
          Serene
          Tremendous
          Iridescent
          Colossal


          Someone Real and True

          Poem
          Amina Khatun


          After we meet and know each other really well,
          our hearts won’t want to say farewell.
          But good-bye will come along,
          and we’ll have to hold back and be really strong.




          The Summer

          Poem
          Desmond Smith


          The summer is fun.
          This is going to be hot, hot!
          Oooh, Ouch! My feet burn.




14   Creative Inklings
The Girls

Fiction
Desmond Smith


       One day there was this girl named Carly. All Carly did was cry and
scream. It was time for bed, so I put Carly to sleep. At 4: 30 a.m., Carly woke
up. When she woke up, she started to jump on me and cry.
       I said, “I can’t take it no more!”
       So, the first thing in the morning, I took her home.
       After that, I went to go pick up my daughter. Her name is Amani.
Amani isn’t a big problem for me. All she does is eat and sleep. I just sat the
table full of food. All I could hear in Amani’s mouth was crunch, crunch, and
crunchhhhhhhhhhhh.
       I finally put her to sleep.


Camp Inklings

Poem
Desmond Smith


Camp Inklings is fun.
We get to go on field trips.
It’s about writing.


Cranbrook Gardens

Poem
Desmond Smith


The brick walls are tall.
It looks like a big forest.
There are many tall trees.




                                              Boom, boom, SCRIBE!                 15
          My Summer

          Narrative
          Desmond Smith


                 It was the last day of school. At lunch, we had pizza and salad. I
          was halfway finished with my food when I threw a piece of lettuce at this
          boy.
                 He asked, “Who threw that?”
                 I pointed to this boy named David. The boy then threw a piece of
          pepperoni at David.
                 After he threw the pepperoni, I yelled out, “Food fight!!”
                 The food fight ended a second later. It was a huge mess in one
          second. Half of the school got detention, and the other half of the school
          got a suspension.
                 When I was walking home, I thought to myself, What if my parents

                 When I got home, my parents were mad that I started the one-
          are happy that I started the one-second food fight?

          second food fight.
                 I had to go to my room. While I was in my room, a bird flew
          through my window. I looked up at the bird, and the bird said hello to
          me. I thought I was having a dream. So I closed my eyes. Then I opened
          my eyes and the bird was still there.
                 Thirty seconds later, the bird started back saying,” Hello!”
                 I was like, this can’t be happening to me.
                 So, I went to go tell my parents. They didn’t believe me.
                 Just for starting that one-second food fight, I had to stay in my
          room for the rest of the summer.




16   Creative Inklings
Snakes Island

Narrative
Mushtary Chowdhury


       As I was stuck on the island I thought to myself: am I going to make

       As I was thinking to myself, I heard a hissing sound.
it out of here alive?

       “Did you hear that?” I asked my friend.
       “Hear what?” she replied.
       “That noise!” I said.
       “What noise?” she answered.
       As I was talking to my friend, I felt something heavy, smooth and
a bit slimy, slither on top of my foot. I felt it tightening. It got tighter and
tighter. And then I looked down. I saw the snake. My friend screamed and
so did I.


Oh, House

Story Poem
Mrs. Dobos


Oh, house,
the stories you could tell us.
The people, the parties, the glamorous times.
The day-to-day life you have witnessed.
I’m sure you’ve seen your share of joys and sorrows, of laughter and tears.
The quiet times, the loud voices, the good and bad times.
The people within your walls.
The rich, the servants—you’ve seen them all.
Life is so quiet for you now.
Not the life you’ve known for so many years.
Relax house, enjoy it.
You’ve earned it.
Oh, house,
the stories you could tell us.




                                                Boom, boom, SCRIBE!                17
          Everything Changes

          Random Thoughts
          Mrs. Dobos


                 These gardens, though well-worn, are simply grand. There is
          so much to see and experience. The gardens represent wealth and a
          glorious, glamorous time and life-style. All of the plants and flowers
          were probably well-thought out and carefully placed so that something
          is always in bloom.
                 So old, so serene. A quiet place for a nanny with a baby carriage
          while its occupant soak up the afternoon spring sunshine while napping.
          The nanny writes her secrets in her diary. Workers scurry about, caring
          for the grounds, gardens, flowers, and fountains. Children frolic on the
          lawn, running and giggling their way through the day. Lawn games, tag,
          make-believe, perhaps a game of hide-and-seek at dusk before being
          called upon to return to the house.
                 A place for lovers to stroll, holding hands, whispering, laughing
          and nodding. Close enough to the house to be trusted, yet far enough
          away from a watchful eye behind the curtain of an upstairs window. A
          stolen kiss in the moonlight.
                 Long rustling dresses sweep the walks and lawns. Parasols are
          used to protect the delicate ivory skin.
                 Unhurried conversations. Lemonade, garden gatherings. The life
          of the privileged. A long ago forgotten time……croquet anyone?




18   Creative Inklings
Hot, Hot, Hot

Poetry
Mrs. Dobos


It’s a hot summer day,
too hot to go outside and play.
Go float in the pool.
Drink lots of iced tea.
Take a walk by the sea.
Think of last winter
when we were so cold.
Try and remember
what it was like last December:
the snow and the ice
were not very nice.
How we longed to get warm
during the cold winter storm.
How dare we complain
when the heat gets insane?
Go on and get wet.
Go on, have some fun,
and remember these days
when we long for the sun!




Rainbow

Poetry
Pioline Choudhury


Dreams are like a storm;
after enduring the hardships,
a rainbow is born.




                                  Boom, boom, SCRIBE!   19
          If Only

          Really random thoughts
          Mrs. Dobos


          If only I could write all day
          because I have so much to say.

          It’s a new class.
          I have to learn to be patient all over again.

          I wish that everyone, everywhere,
          would know that they are loved.

          Write about it now.
          Worry about it later.


          Life

          Poetry
          Mizanur Rahman


                Life is about taking chances
                and doing things that others
                believe you can’t do.
                It’s about believing in yourself
                and succeeding,
                no matter what others think about you.
                You have to chase your dreams
                and believe.
                Live life to the fullest.
                Belief in yourself
                is the way you succeed.
                It’s about sacrificing and
                doing the right thing.
                So don’t care what others say.
                Just do the impossible.




20   Creative Inklings
Cranbrook Garden

Poetry
Mizanur Rahman


     On July 6, 2010, my camp and I
     went to the Cranbrook Gardens.
     The gardens blew my eyes away.
     This garden is one of the most
     beautiful places I have ever seen.
     This beautiful garden inspired me.
     It felt like one of the best moments in my life.
     I hope I come here every year.
     The garden refreshes my mind
     and helps me forget about my daily life.
     This beautiful garden calms
     my emotions and me down.
     To me, this area feels like
     I’m in my own creative world.


Cranbrook Oriental Garden

Poetry
Mizanur Rahman


     I am sitting
     under a Japanese maple tree
     thinking about how much longer
     this beauty would go on.
     Sitting under a tree,
     as the wind is rushing through the air,
     and birds going tweet tweet
     makes me feel like I’m in my
     Land of Paradise.
     This is the natural beauty of life:
     listening to the natural sound of nature.
     The trees swinging back and forth
     make a calm, natural sound.
     Hoping this moment goes on
     for the rest of my life.
     Shall the show continue?
                                             Boom, boom, SCRIBE!   21
         Perfection

         Poem
         Almedina Agic


         The air is alive with something I can’t describe.
         Sparks are flying.
         The sky is glowing.
         The world makes sense for a second.
         Everything makes sense.
         I don’t need reasons.
         I don’t need words.
         I don’t need worldly possessions.
         Some things are better free.
         Your paint-smeared hands
         move across the blank canvas.
         I stare,
         but not at the picture forming.
         Instead all I see is your face,
         your intent expression.
         Why so serious, love?
         You must feel my eyes on your face, but your attention is on your
         masterpiece.
         I just sit there quietly,
         humming a tune from my childhood.
         This is happiness,
         bliss,
         raw joy.
         Your hands stop, hovering over the painting.
         My breath catches.
         The painting is of a girl,
         legs crossed beneath her,
         staring at someone not in the picture.
         You turn to look at me,
         your eyes asking “Do you love it?”
         I nod, tears stinging my eyes.
         Your face breaks into a smile.
         In that moment I realize I’ve fallen in love
         with you, and your paint-smeared hands,


22   Creative Inklings
your smile,
your soul.
You continue the painting,
as if nothing happened.
I dip my fingers into the gold paint
and join you,
painting the beginnings of a boy with golden curls and a gorgeous smile.


Lost Treasures

Poem
Almedina Agic


Statues crying rust,
even water,
tears of neglect.
How long has it been since they were built?
Oh, the thing they have seen.
They have such heavy burdens.
There are statues.
But what will be of us when we are gone?
How will we live on?
I don’t know.
One day we’ll all fade,
just a distant memory
much like these statues here.


Untitled

Poem
Almedina Agic


A statue holding up a lyre looks up at the sky.
She looks mournful.
“Rain! Rain! Where are you? Sooth my parched lips and concrete hips!”




                                              Boom, boom, SCRIBE!          23
         Ellen’s Garden

         Poem
         Almedina Agic


         Flowers surround a pool,
         towering trees in the background,
         a lone girl in a purple shirt sitting on a bench,
         journal open.
         She’s writing.
         This garden reminds her of peace,
         utter bliss.
         The scene before her calms her,
         soothes her frazzled nerves.
         There aren’t enough words to describe this,
         but questions remain.
         Who was Ellen?
         Is this garden a replica of how she was?
         Who loved her enough to build this for her?
         Whoever you are or were, Ellen,
         your garden is breathtaking.
         I feel at peace with myself.


         Kevin

         Poem inspired by a National Geographic photograph
         Almedina Agic


         I try and try,
         but my best is not good enough.
         I don’t get everything
         like I’ve heard stories of other kids getting.
         Mama doesn’t wear fancy dresses;
         Papa doesn’t always have clean hands.
         They are caked with mud,
         sweat, and tears.
         Life is not easy.
         The Americans in the village,
         with their sympathetic smiles,


24   Creative Inklings
plain clothes, messy hair—
they do not understand us.
The struggle I face every morning whether I want to live another day or
not.
No, they do not understand.
-shakes head-
But my stomach just growls and growls.
I want food, food.
My stomach doesn’t need to understand.
It just needs food.
Though I’m hungry,
pride still remains.
I don’t go to the Americans
unless it’s my last option.
I am not poor!
We are not poor!

I argue in my head.
We don’t need handouts!

Liar, liar a voice taunts back.
Football.
It’s my joy,
my life.
It gives my legs speed
even when I’m weary.
It makes me kick the ball away from me
as if I were kicking away my poor life.

I say. I say it until the ball is in the goal.
Stay away, hunger, tears, poverty—stay away!

That is why I’m one of the best in our village.
That is all I have.




                                           Boom, boom, SCRIBE!            25
          A Free Girl (If Only for a Moment)

          Short story
          Almedina Agic


                 I brace myself for the cold of the water. Lifting up my skirt, I
          gingerly put a toe into the water. A wild laugh escapes me. It’s perfect.
          I look around like a bandit, hoping not to be caught. I slowly take off the
          hideous dress I was forced to wear. A gaudy yellow. It takes me ages.
          So many layers. Finally I’m free. A shiver of delight runs up my spine,
          a delight that comes from knowing I shouldn’t be doing this and I am
          anyway. I jump in, headfirst. Natural instinct takes over, and I feel free.


          Love of Mine (A Simple Love Poem)

          Poem
          Almedina Agic


          We’re free for a while,
          free from judging eyes,
          tight-lipped frowns.
          The birds chirp.
          The air is warm.
          Somehow with my hands in yours I feel like I can accomplish anything.
          Together, we’ll face the world, but for right now I’m glad for a moment,
          just a moment,
          with you.


          Untitled

          Poem
          Almedina Agic


          Two lions guard the entrance to “Ellen’s Garden”.
          “Rawr!” they say. “Those will sinful intentions may not enter.”
          And so I stepped cautiously into her garden.




26   Creative Inklings
Black Eyed Peas

Poem
Almedina Agic


Weird
Booming
Giving me feelings
London bridge hasn’t fallen yet, though.
Let’s get retarded?
Let’s get smart.
Get this party started.
Yeah, meet you at my mom’s.


Music

Poem
Almedina Agic


Loud,
heavy,
soft,
slow,
old,
new,
sad,
happy,
filled with memories,
wild dancing,
smiles,
listening together,
peace,
understanding,
perfection,
meaning,
poetry.
music.
It keeps us alive.



                                           Boom, boom, SCRIBE!   27
          A Day in the Life of a Boy named Kevin

          Short Story
          Almedina Agic


                 I woke up today to the sound of arguing. Mama and Papa arguing
          over money. Always, always. I turned over, staring at the wall, closing
          my eyes, trying to go back to sleep. I couldn’t. Soon I reluctantly sat up
          in bed. I swung my feet over the edge and forced myself up. Everything
          ached. Football practice always wore me out.
                 “Kevin! Breakfast!” Mama shouts from the kitchen just as I can
          hear the door slam.
                 Papa’s gone for the day. I walk into the kitchen, my bare feet
          thudding against the dirt floor.
                 “Eat up, Kevin,” Mama says, moving side to side, cradling Sarah.
                 I stare at the bent and scratched pan on the floor. It’s full of
          potatoes. Mashed potatoes. My eyes narrow.
                 “I do not want that food. It is from the Americans,” I say.
                 Mama slaps me clear across the face. It’s a sharp pain. I barely
          flinch. I stare at her as if to say physical pain can’t hurt me when I live
          through this every day. This filth, poverty. She shoos me out of the
          kitchen. My stomach growls, and yet I refuse to give in. I don’t need their
          sympathy food. I make my way into the bedroom I share with Michael.
          He’s still asleep. I stand in the middle of the room for a while, just
          staring at Michael. What will become of us?




28   Creative Inklings
The Best Things End Too Soon

Poem
Almedina Agic


Dancing slowly,
almost swaying,
to a fast beat
fit for a waltz.
You’re holding me close,
closer than disapproving eyes can stand.
You spin me around and around,
and I laugh and laugh.
For the first time in a while I feel alive.
You set my soul on fire,
send shivers down my spine.
Oh, if this is sin,
a sinner I am!
The music stops
and I feel all eyes on us.
My eyes are daring you to take it further,
see how much you’re willing to push the boundaries,
limits of the cage I live in.
Your lips meet mine
for a long meet and greet.
I’m flying,
soaring above this dance floor.
Then I crash to the ground.
All I can do is stand and watch your back as you walk away.




                                            Boom, boom, SCRIBE!   29
          Maybes

          Poem
          Almedina Agic


          Maybe I’ll love you.
          Maybe you’ll love me.
          Maybe we’ll survive.
          Maybe, maybe.

          Maybe I’ll stop expecting so much from myself.
          Maybe I’ll smile more.
          Maybe I’ll finally respect myself enough.
          Maybe, maybe.

          Maybe I’ll stop drowning in a bottle.
          Maybe I’ll find other ways to be happy.
          Maybe I’ll do some good.
          Maybe, maybe.

          Maybe the war will stop.
          Maybe we’ll all realize that love is all we ever needed.
          Maybe things will be okay.
          Maybe, maybe.

          Life’s too short for maybes.


          Cranbrook Gardens

          Poetry
          Pioline Choudhury


          As the wind blows, a rush of cool air surrounds me.
          The leaves and grass shake gently, like millions of brushes.
          The trees slowly rock back and forth;
          the flowers dance elegantly, their petals twirling in mid-air.
          The environment is quiet and serene.



30   Creative Inklings
Brian’s Family Trip

Play
Mahmuda Mouri


[Brian is the person who was chosen. Brian was nine years old. In
September he is turning ten. He has three older brothers; Brown,
Jeffrey and Jiffy. Jiffy is one year younger than Brain. Brown and Jeffrey
are working at his mother’s office. His mother has an office with her
husband. When Brian was one and his brothers were fourteen and
fifteen years old, their father died. His mother has a hard time managing
all the work. Right now Brian’s mother has a peaceful life because the
brothers are working. One Friday night his mother said, “We are going
somewhere to catch fish”. On Friday night they went to bed early because
they are going to have to wake up early and leave.]


[Brian wakes up at seven o’clock. He went to the bathroom and after
Saturday

getting out from the bathroom, he saw his mother and his brother were
also awake.]

  Brian: Hi, Mom. Good morning.
  Mother: Hi, Brian. You know we are going somewhere, so go change
and tell your brother to change, too.
  Brian: Yes, Mom. I am going right now.

[Brian went to his brother]

   Brian: Good morning, brother.
   Brother: Good morning, Brian. Do you know we are going
somewhere?
   Brian: Mother said to change and get ready. Bye, I need to change,
too.

[Everybody is ready and went to the car to go. Mother said they are going
to stay there three or four hours. Then everybody is quiet and Brown
turns on the song that Brian likes the best. Jeffrey is driving. The time is
going well by listing to the song. It takes two hours to get to the place.
They left the house at eight o’clock and arrived at ten-thirty.]

                                              Boom, boom, SCRIBE!              31
            Mother: Stop, Brown! This is the right place.
            Brown: Yes, Mom. We have to park our car.
            Brian: Mom, this place is so nice. Can we get out of the car?
            Mother: Yes, sure.
            Brown: Mom, I will be back.
            Mother: Come quickly!

         [Everybody gets out of the car and looks all around. Mom is waiting for
         Brown. She wants to catch fish. After waiting five minutes, Brown came.
         He was carrying all things needed for fishing.]

            Mother: Come here, Brown. I am here.
            Brown: Here are all your things for fishing, Mom.
            Mother: What?
            Brown: Can we swim in the water, please?
            Mother: Yes, you can, but not Brian and Jiffy.
            Brown: Yes, Mom.
            Mother: Did you guys bring any other clothes?
            Brown: Yes, we did.
            Brian: Can you catch fish, Mom?
            Mother: Yes, I am going to catch fish.
            Brian: Can I come with you?
            Mother: Yes, sure!

         [Brian, mom and Jiffy went somewhere to catch fish and my two
         brothers are in the water. They already have fun.]

            Brown: Jeffrey I am going to swim. You want to come with me?
            Jeffry: Yes
            Mother: We are going to sit there and catch fish.
            Brian: Can I go there and play with Jiffy?
            Mother: Yes, you can. But don’t go far.
            Brian: Yes, mom.

         [Everybody was having fun. After some time later, Mother called Brian’s
         name. Brian went there and saw nobody was there. He was afraid. Then
         he turned around and saw his mom standing near the lake. He ran
         towards his mom. He saw five big fish that his mom had caught. He was
         so happy.]

32   Creative Inklings
  Brian: Oh, Mom, you got five fishes!
  Mother: Yes, my son.

[Brian was playing with fish and gave a hug to all the fishes. He saw
his brothers coming and their clothes were wet. Brian knew they were
swimming in the water. They were cold. They came to see the fishes.
They liked the fishes. They went back to their mom and made a fire to
stand near to warm up.]

  Mother: Why would you swim in the winter season in the cold water?
  Jeffrey: Mom, it is fun to swim in the lake.
  Jiffy: Are you cold, brother?
  Brown: No, we are hot. You known we swam in the cold water. Why
you asking us if we are cold?
  Mother: Stop, and get ready to go home. We are late.
  Brian: Mom, are we taking those fishes?
  Mother: Yes, I caught those fishes. I don’t want to leave them here.

[They went to their car and left. Brian thinks, “We had a lot of fun this
Saturday.”]


Summer Love

Poem
Paige Gilbert


Capri Suns are great.
Fill my mouth with flavor, please.
Time for another!


What Would You Do?

Poem
Paige Gilbert


Klondike Bars. Yummy.
Hard on the outside, soft in.
Cold treats in the heat.



                                              Boom, boom, SCRIBE!           33
         I Love Writing

         Poem
         Mahmuda Mouri


         I love writing because writing is the best thing.
         Best way to find a good place.
         Best way to be a doctor.
         Best way for me, too.

         I love writing because it’s the most important thing,
         Most important for a scientist.
         Most important for good people.
         Most important for me, too.


         Special Tool

         Poem
         Ms. Thompson


         Why are you special?
         You’re special because you aid me in my escape.
         You help create what is beautiful to me.
         Peace.
         Peace and Serenity.
         I use you when I venture into me.
         Me, me all alone,
         all alone to ponder,
         to ponder over what’s next on my agenda,
         to ponder over whether I’m going to ponder or not.
         Maybe I won’t, maybe I’ll sit here relaxed, holding you in one hand
         and works of art from nature in the other,
         works of art that beautifies and nourishes,
         nourishes my mind as well as my body,
         but it’s my mind that you help relax.
         Relaxation is the key,
         the key to why I keep you close to me.




34   Creative Inklings
Change

Poem
Mahmuda Mouri


The season is changing,
and the day is changing, too.
Does anybody know
when people change?

Today is a sunny day,
and then tomorrow is a rainy day.
Does anybody know
when the day changes?

Today is an earthquake,
and then tomorrow is a tornado.
Does anybody know
when that stops?

Today the sun is shining,
and tomorrow the cloud is running.
Does anybody know
when that stops?

Yes, only one person knows.
Who is it?
God is the only person
Who knows.




                                     Boom, boom, SCRIBE!   35
         Ono-ma to The Poeia

         Poem
         Ms. Thompson


         “Wow, this is so quiet and serene,”
         I thought as I sat in the grass relaxing…
         Splish, splash.
         Ding, dang, dong.
         “Ha,ha,ha.”
         Twirp, twirp,
         Eek, eeEek, eek, eeEek.
         Vroom, vrooooom.
         Swoooosh.
         Sputter, sputter, sputter.
         Keek, keeEEk, KeeEEk.
         Whuuur, whuuur.
         Beep, beep, beep, beep.
         Clip, clap, clip, clap, clip, clap.
         Ding, dang, dong, dong, dang, ding.
         Twirp, twirp, twirp, twirp.
         SweeEEErp, SweeEEErp, sweeEEErp.
         Thump, thump, vroom.
         Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch.
         Hă, hă, hă,hă, hă.
         Crunch, crunch, crunch.
         Cahooo, Cahooo, Cahooo.
         Flip, flap.
         Scribble, scribble.
         Whuuuur, whuuur, whuuur.
         WhoooEEp, WhoooEEp.
         Ruff, ruff, ruff.
         “Hey, Matt!”
         Swoooosh!
         “Hey, guys.”
         Tweet, tweet, tweet.
         “Come here!”
         Buzz, buzz, buzzzzz.
         Cahooo, cahooo, cahooo.

36   Creative Inklings
Twirp, twirp, twirp.
Buzz,buzz, buzzzz.
I never stopped to realize
that it wasn’t the quietness of the gardens
that relaxes me;
it has been all the noises
of nature all along.


Who is She?

Poem
Ms. Thompson


Who is she?
Where is she going?
Why is she leading him (us)?
What are her intentions?
We have immortalized her with bronze:
a statue of history.

Yet, I can almost see…
 the sway in her skirt,
 his smile get wider,
 the staff’s bow bend,
 her scarf flutter from the wind.

Who are we because of her?
Where would we be if she never came?
Why do we forget the hardships of the past?
What great accomplishments she made!

I could answer, “Who?”
I could answer, “Where?”
I could answer, “What?”
But “Why?” holds an answer that is lost in yesteryear and far too deep
for me alone to reach.




                                              Boom, boom, SCRIBE!        37
          Calling Me Closer

          Poem
          Raquel Malcolm


          The birds soar above my head, and the wind calls my name.
          The flowers grow plentiful, and the trees are old but strong.
          A leaf is floating on top of the water, having a dip in the pool.
          Water comes out of a spout, sounding like rain, if you’re close.
          Just close your eyes and listen to it all:
          there are bees buzzing,
          birds chirping,
          woodpeckers pecking,
          a dragonfly flying,
          and all of this is calling me to come closer.


          Gentle Breeze

          Haiku
          Raquel Malcolm


          A gentle breeze flows
          Through my hair, calling my name
          I sit and enjoy


          Butterfly

          Haiku
          Raquel Malcolm


          Pretty butterfly
          Flaps its’ wings near a flower
          To get its’ dinner




38   Creative Inklings
Luscious

Acrostic Poem
Raquel Malcolm


Look we’re
Undefeatable
Super
Colossal
Irresistible
Outstanding
Unchangeable
Stupendous kids


An Ancient Greek God Just Wanted Some Water

Short Story
Raquel Malcolm


The ancient Greek God, Zeus, wanted some water. He made his servants
go get him some. Zeus thought they were loyal to him. He knew what they
were going to do, they were going to poison Zeus, and eat him. Once they
got to the bones they would use them to become Gods themselves. Their
plan didn’t work though; Zeus banished them to a land that nobody knew
existed, and turned them into stone. They are holding a giant bowl full of
water on their knees. Every once and a while you can see them cry.




Observations
Cranbrook Gardens: First Stop
Ms. Knight


…while pieces of the tree fall on my arms, on my notebook,
to remind me to spend more time outside, the fountain flows—a meager
stream that awaits the rainy season—and the man on the wall still cries if
someone comes too near .




                                            Boom, boom, SCRIBE!              39
         Fiction
         The Forbidden Wall
         Ms. Knight


                The children played their games in this yard: foot races, tag, hide-
         and-seek. They had played croquet. They had thrown horseshoes and
         lawn darts in a civilised, organised fashion while their fathers smoked
         their cigars in the stables and their mothers drank tea and held their
         parasols to protect their lily-white skin from the sun.
                Their Sundays went on like this, week after week during the
         summer season. There was rarely any variation on these themes until
         one day when she hit the ball too hard. It bounced off a rock in the
         garden of the reflecting pool and flew over the forbidden wall. She had
         always minded her elders and had never walked too close to this wall.
         Now that her ball was on the other side, she had to look to see where it
         had gone.
                She could clearly see the red ball with white stripes, lying on the
         brown forest floor between the green leaves of undergrowth. This wall
         appeared only two feet high from the side on which they played. Looks
         were deceiving. This wall dropped twelve feet on the other side. Being
         only three feet tall, she didn’t know that, though. She only knew that
         there were no stairs that she could see to reach the other side of the
         garden wall.
                She imagined the wrath of her father when he’d learned of her
         carelessness. She feared the back of his hand and the leather of his belt
         more than she feared any injury she might sustain from falling over the
         forbidden wall.

         *British spellings used in honor of the Cornish history at Cranbrook House




40   Creative Inklings
Cranbrook Gardens Reflecting Pool

Poem
Ms. Knight


The first thought is of natural beauty:
      the flowers,
      the grasses,
      the hedges,
      the trees.

The second thought is of created beauty:
      the reflecting pool.
      the stone walls,
      the iron rails,
      the fountains,
      the statues.

The third thought is of wealth:
      once upon a time,
      did a family
      call this home
      and assume
      that everyone lived this way?


Not Complaining

Poem
Ms. Knight


My shoes are dusty; my feet are dirty.
My t-shirt is drenched in sweat.
My hair is wet; the breeze has died.
But there are trees, and a waterfall,
and writers nearby.
It’s a great place;
it’s a great way
to spend
a Tuesday.


                                           Boom, boom, SCRIBE!   41
         Multiple-authorship

         The following pieces of writing were inspired by Ms. Thompson’s lesson
         and these pictures:




         Dancing

         Short Story in Two Voices
         Alexandra Chabowski and Almedina Agic


                 My heart is racing like crazy. All the moves have to be precise. I
         feel like I’m flying, soaring high above the audience. Fly Nina, fly! If you
         don’t make it now, you never will! And so I think back on every practice,
         trying to move gracefully and perfectly. My life is on the line; my career
         is on the line. Even my mother’s here. My mother? My heart pounds
         faster, faster. The air can’t come into my lungs fast enough. Afraid, alive.
         Everything.
                 As I was dancing gracefully and precisely, I was becoming more
         and more sure of myself. We’re going to win this, I thought. We’ve put
         more work to this than anyone else in this competition. If we don’t win,

         days aren’t going to be worth it! As I turned to the cheering crowd, with
         then all those practices weren’t worth it. All those long hours and hard

         a beaming smile, I notice Nina’s mother. This explains why she was so
         nervous. My smile turned into a frown, and I thought, this is going to be
         a disaster!
42   Creative Inklings
Snapshot, Thoughtshot
Ms. Maslowski, Pioline Choudhury, Amina Khatun, Mushtary

Narrative
Chowdhury



       My eyes burst open at the sound of the alarm clock, still ringing in
       Buzz!

my ears. Barely conscious, I rolled off my bed, crashing onto the floor. My
schedule fell from my night stand onto my face.
       “I’m late!” I yelled.
       I frantically threw on my clothes and brushed my teeth. I chugged
down my morning cup of coffee and ran out the door, hearing the latch
click behind me. I zoomed through my regular downtown route, only
to find out that today, of all days, the streets were packed with a never-
ending line of cars, all speeding past. The sidewalks were no better; many
people, like me, were all hurrying to their destinations.
       Still in a hurry, my hopes of arriving on time were shattered as I was
forced to stop at the crosswalk. Although I regularly come here, I’ve never
noticed the skyscrapers that rocket into the sky, engulfing the whole area
in darkness. My heart pounded with joy as the stoplight finally turned red.
However, I no longer felt rushed and stressed. I casually walked across,
taking note of nearby structures I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.
       As I was nearing the sidewalk, my eyes locked with another man’s—
his deathly gaze seemed to pierce through me as I was walking past. Only
one thought crossed my mind: Where have I seen this person before?
       Alas, the crowd was moving too quickly. In a flash, the man was
gone.


The Embarrassing Moment

Short story
Nadija Mujakic and Ms. Kinsman


       As I’m walking down a busy street in New York, I notice a man
in a black leather jacket staring at me. I wonder if I know him from
somewhere. As I get closer to him, my glasses get steamed up. Now I
really look like a fool because I can’t see him. I’m confused because of all
the flashbacks in my head. As I was wiping the steam from my glasses, I
remembered who he was. He was the guy who towed my car away. I made
my decision and just ignored him.
                                             Boom, boom, SCRIBE!                43
         McDonald’s

         Thoughtshot
         Raquel Malcolm and Mrs. Dobos


                As I reflect back on this photo, I never realized how much weight
         my body carried when I was a child. I loved eating at McDonald’s. The
         Golden Arches! The heaps of greasy, salty French fries, the super-sized
         burgers, and the extra-large milkshakes. I lived for Mickey D’s. Now I
         realize that people were probably pointing, staring and laughing as I
         gorged my already grotesque body with more unnecessary fat.
         Thankfully, as I grew up, all the fat went away. I still lived for
         McDonald’s. I just didn’t eat it as often. I might have lost all the weight,
         but I got pimples from eating all the greasy food.


         There’s a Lot on My Mind

         Thoughtshot
         Paige Gilbert and Ms. Knight


               It is sooooo hot! I could definitely use a chocolate shake right now!
               Yikes! I think I just pulled a muscle in my right leg, and this guy
         keeps giving me the evil eye. I just need some personal space.
               I’ve been working so hard lately; a cheeseburger would go great
         with that shake.
               God, I’m so glad I stretched out before this. My leg is killing me!
               As I look to my right, I realize there are a lot of people out here. Is he
         going to take it? Nah, it is mine!
               Okay, I got to get my head in the game, so I can celebrate our victory
         with a chocolate shake!




44   Creative Inklings
About the authors...…
Almedina Agic loves writing, especially poetry. It’s one of the things she’d
never be able to live without. She’s fifteen and a half, soon to be a sophomore.
She enjoys listening to music, dancing like a maniac, reading, and making
her friends laugh. Oh—and she’s obsessed with all things England. Almedina
was one of the Junior Counselors for Creative Inklings this week. She has
participated in National Novel Writing Month since 2007.

Alexandra Chabowski is a ninth grader. She loves to read, dance, and play
tennis. She has developed an interest in writing, all thanks to Creative Inklings.
She would like to become a nurse. She has a wonderful, loving family and
an amazing brother. She has had a lot of fun and amazing times at Creative
Inklings. She plans on coming back to Creative Inklings camp next year.

Pioline Choudhury is a carefree 7th grader, heading into the 8th grade. He
struck gold when he was eligible to skip 5th grade, thus making him one of the
youngest KMS students. He plans on becoming a doctor, but this can easily
change. He loves poetry; specifically, haiku, couplets, and free verse poetry. He
has been to Creative Inklings multiple times and loves attending.

Mushtary Chowdhury likes math and science. She has two siblings. She hopes
one day to be a scientist and find cures for all the diseases in the world. Her
favorite hobby is planting a garden. She wants to get A’s from 9th to 12th grade
and become the valedictorian. She has learned a lot in Creative Inklings.

Carol Dobos teaches a 5/6 split at Holbrook Elementary. She has been
teaching in Hamtramck for ten years in both the middle school and elementary.
Before that, she taught language arts and social studies in several Livonia
schools. Mrs. Dobos lives in Livonia with her husband, Otto, and their beagle,
Casey. She has three children: Andrew, who is married and lives in Arlington,
Virginia, working as a Communications specialist; Matt, who lives in Chicago
and is a radiology transport supervisor for a major hospital; and Amanda, who
is majoring in theatre and art at Arizona State University. Mrs. Dobos enjoys
visiting all three kids and being a tourist. As a Language Arts major, she
enjoys writing, and currently blogs, “It Is What It Is”. She is working on writing
several children’s books. While math is her favorite subject, she is not allowed
to mention it during writing camp!


                                             Boom, boom, SCRIBE!               45
         Paige Gilbert is a recent graduate of Cass Technical High School and will
         be continuing her college career at the State University of New York at
         Purchase. Her goal is to obtain a Bachelor of Fine Arts Degree and move
         to New York City to fulfill her dreams of being an actress. She attended
         the writing camp because being able to express herself through writing is
         a big part of character-building, which is very instrumental to becoming
         a better actress. She loves to read. She enjoyed the writing camp because
         she loves to help and encourage other writers.

         Holly Gilbert-Ryle is a bubbly soccer mom of three busy children. When
         she’s not required to be on mommy-duty, she enjoys reading teen fiction
         books, making jewelry, and traveling. Ms. Gilbert is really excited about
         the new school year because she has some exciting ideas for using the
         new laptops with her sixth grade students. She has been a National
         Writing Project Teacher Consultant since her completion of the Meadow
         Brook Writing Project in 2008. She was the Assistant Director of Creative
         Inklings this week.

         Luthfor Khan likes to listen to music in his spare time. He will try to
         play any sport, but his favorite sport is soccer, which he plays every day.
         He has five pet fish. Luthfor is going to 7th grade in the fall. He has one
         brother named Latifur. If he could, Luthfor would stay on a computer all
         day.

         Amina Khatun is Bengali and is in 7th grade. She is a girl that gets along
         with everyone. She has experience playing the clarinet and is a good
         student in school. She is thirteen years old. She has one brother, two
         sisters, a mom, and a dad.

         Maria Kinsman has worked for Dickinson West School for the past
         ten years. She is a dedicated para-pro. She has been in the Hamtramck
         District for a total of fourteen years. She loves to read. Some of her other
         hobbies include cooking and walking her two pugs, Cooper and Frankie.
         Ms. Kinsman has a twenty-seven-year-old daughter, Lynn, who is a pre-
         school teacher. Her son, David, would have been twenty-one years old. He
         passed away almost two years ago. David was going to college to become
         a physical therapist.

         Angela Knight is a former middle school teacher who is now a Title I
         Writing Specialist at Holbrook Elementary. She lives with her husband
46   Creative Inklings
and foster cat. In her spare time, she loves to read and write, as well as
make jewelry and stained glass projects. She has participated in National
Novel Writing Month since 2004. She hopes to someday publish one
of her novels. She was the middle level camp director this week. She is
the Creative Inklings Program Director, along with Ms. Maslowski. She
has been a National Writing Project Teacher Consultant since 1993 and
participated in the Eastern Michigan Writing Project in 2005.

Raquel Malcolm is a going to be a 7th grader. She is eleven. She loves to
read and write. Raquel wants to go to Yale. She is all-American. She has a
brother, a dog, and three cats. Funny, nice, and friendly are only a couple
of ways to describe her. She is a good student, and her favorite subject is
math. Raquel loves to play the flute and eat.

Tricia Maslowski is excited and proud to see that Creative Inklings is back
for the third summer in a row! She loves to work with students who are so
motivated and eager to write. Ms. Maslowski’s writing goal this summer
is to complete an essay that she started in 2007 about her childhood
memories with her grandparents, one of whom is turning 95 this October.
She is a Creative Inklings Program Director with Ms. Knight. She has been
a National Writing Project Teacher Consultant since her completion of the
Eastern Michigan Writing Project in 2007.

Mahmuda Mouri is in 8th grade. She has two sisters: one is in 6th grade and
another is in 3rd grade. Her hobbies are reading and writing stories, both
fiction and non-fiction. She likes her father, mother, sister, and teacher. Her
future plan is to be great doctor. She hopes to come back to next year’s
Creative Inklings camp.

Nadija Mujakic likes writing and reading. She has three sisters. She’s
about to go to the 7th grade. Hopefully in the future she will become an
author, but right now she is sticking to going to writing camps, and writing
short stories or poems.

Mizanur Rahman is the only boy in his family. He lives with his father
and a mother and three sisters. His sisters’ names are Farjana, Sumaiya,
and last but not least, Khadiza. Mizanur enjoys all kind of activities such
as basketball, soccer, and football. He listens to rap and R&B. Mizanur
loves to hang out with his friends. He enjoys his life and hopes to become
a basketball player or a pharmacist when he grows up. Mizanur is going
                                              Boom, boom, SCRIBE!                 47
         to seventh grade. He hopes to go to Kosciuszko Middle School. Mizanur
         loves to play video games and use the computer. He is into “going green”
         and recycling. He wants to help the world become a better and safer
         place to live.

         Desmond Smith is twelve years old. His birthday is July 27th. He loves
         to play video games and football, and he enjoys cooking. When he
         graduates from high school, he will attend Wayne State University to get
         a degree in mathematics. After completing college, he would like to join
         the NFL.

         Fatima Thompson is the Restorative Practices Coordinator at Dickinson
         West Elementary. She loves working with children; why else would
         she take three weeks out of her summer vacation to teach writing
         camp? She gets enormous gratification from the successes of others,
         especially those she’s impacted. Writing has become more prevalent
         in her life lately, although she’s still struggling to fit writing in her busy
         schedule. Her plan was to read more to become a better writer, but that
         schedule of hers has once again gotten in the way. So, she’s planning to
         buy books on tape (do they make those anymore?)/mp3/CD to listen
         to because she’s spends about 50% of her days in her car and there’s
         rarely anything good to listen to on the radio. She is so busy because
         she has three wonderful children who love to let her know that not only
         is she greatly appreciated, but she is definitely needed. Well, Creative
         Inklings 2010 week 1 camp has ended, and she’s had a stupendous time
         sharing and writing. She can’t wait to do it all over again next week as
         the Assistant Director. She has been a National Writing Project Teacher
         Consultant since her completion of the Eastern Michigan Writing Project
         in 2009.




               Director: Angela Knight (Holbrook Elementary)
         Middle Level Camp Staff

               Assistant Director: Holly Gilbert-Ryle (Dickinson West)
               Teachers: Carol Dobos (Holbrook Elementary),
                          Tricia Maslowski (Dickinson West)
                          Fatima Thompson (Dickinson West),
               Para-professional: Maria Kinsman
               Junior Counselors: Almedina Agic (HHS) and Paige Gilbert

48   Creative Inklings
Writing Information

Diamante

The Diamante is a form similar to the Cinquain. The text forms the shape of a
diamond.
Line 1: Noun or subject - one word
Line 2: Two Adjectives that describe line 1
Line 3: Three ‘ing words that describe line 1
Line 4: Four nouns - the first two are connected with line 1; the last two are
connected with line 7
Line 5: Three ‘ing words that describe line 7
Line 6: Two adjectives that describe line 7
Line 7: Noun Synonym for the subject
from http://www.kathimitchell.com/poemtypes.html




The teachers and directors of Creative Inklings would like to thank:
Acknowledgements

      • Mr. Ivezaj and the secretaries of Kosciuszko Middle School for hosting
      our camp and fielding questions
      • Tim Turner, head custodian of KMS, and his staff for keeping our rooms
      clean and cool,
      • Shari Charns, Mr. Niczay, and Glenn Pasternak from the
      Central Office for their support, both moral and financial,
      • Dan Connors and Ms. Shari at KMS for providing and protecting our
      sack lunches for our writing marathon,
      • Eastern Michigan Writing Project,
      • Meadow Brook Writing Project,
      • Cranbrook Gardens,
      • Tim and Jake* for their continuing support, patience, and assistance,




…and to all of the voices we have ever heard who have encouraged
us all to keep writing.




                                            Boom, boom, SCRIBE!              49
                                Index of Authors


                         Agic, Almedina 22-30, 42, 45
                         A




                         Chabowski, Alexandra 5-8, 42, 45
                         C


                         Choudhury, Pioline 19, 43, 45
                         Chowdhury, Mushtary 17, 43, 45



                         Dobos, Carol 17-20, 44-45, 48
                         D




                         Gilbert, Paige 33, 44, 46
                         G


                         Gilbert-Ryle, Holly 9-11, 46, 48



                         Khan, Luthfor 11-12, 46
                         K


                         Khatun, Amina 4, 13-14, 43, 46
                         Kinsman, Maria 10, 43, 46, 48
                         Knight, Angela 39-41, 44, 46, 48



                         Malcolm, Raquel 4, 38-39, 44, 47
                         M


                         Maslowski, Tricia 12, 43, 47-48
                         Mouri, Mahmuda 31, 34-35, 47
                         Mujakic, Nadija 8-9, 43, 47



                         Rahman, Mizanur 20-21, 47
                         R




                         Smith, Desmond 11, 13-16, 48
                         S




                         Thompson, Fatima 34, 36-37, 48
                         T




50   Creative Inklings

				
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posted:6/5/2011
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