More Writing Submissions…So Exciting!!!!

We are so thrilled at all the amazing work these middle schoolers have submitted! This year’s The Arrow is going to be soooo good!

And now, more writing from Hackley’s Middle School students:



A Fish Lived in a Tree

by: Beckett J. ’24 


A fish lived in a tree

Everyone called him Pea

When others saw his tail up high

They wondered how he did not die

But Pea flew away with the bees


What a Day

by: Vincent C. ’24 

What a day

What a night

the food is great

and delicious



by: Afsana ‘D. 23


That’s how you describe things


With all your colors

Mixing together

Screaming at each other

It’s confusing

It’s all confusing

Loud, bright colors

Each telling me to change

Each telling me to be something I’m not.

It’s loud

It’s too much

It needs to stop

Stop Stop Stop

It hurts

Hurts my head

My head

My head throbs

Why can’t you just simplify things?

Black and white?

Right and wrong?

I peer out at you

Ruining the pristine world

From my black and white mask.

To me

You are just

The gray area

In between;


Unable to make up your mind.

Black and white

White and black

Black or white?

I lost track.  


Peanut Butter and Jelly: A Haibun

by: Tommy T. ’24


Today is National Peanut Butter and Jelly Day. I like Peanut Butter and Jelly. I might have one today.

              The blue sea looks nice

              I want to be there right now

              I want to live there.



by: Suka N. ’25


Monkey see, monkey do

You don’t see me, I see you


I scream, you watch, never hearing a sound

You laugh in your phone, my sanity crumbles as I fall to the floor


You love yourself, I destroy myself

You stare at my glass, a barrier between and my existence and your sanity


Your makeup is your shield, you perfect you shield through me

My tears are as constant as your life, moving, feeling, betraying


I tear my hair out, you curl it to supremacy

Alone, my walls are like reflections


Reminders of the life I am restricted to

The cycle of my stability breaking


Me, Me, tears, screams, shards in a never ending cycle

Then it stops, I see the broken pieces, scattered on the stone cold wood


A shard is what I become, what I’ve been confined to

From now, to eternity


Monkey see, monkey do

Monkey screams his lungs out too


I am cursed, broken down

Forever alone, no life to live


I sink forever in my prison

No more strength to be given


But yet again, the cycle starts

And with it goes, a piece of my heart


Under Our Dark Watchful Eye

Abigail N. ’26


Under our dark watchful eye

Trays of steamin’ smoky ribs

Mac n’ cheese, fresh cornbread

Shiver gleefully as they’re

Snatched up greedily

We wait…

            and wait…

                            and wait…

And with a brisk click! and



We flicker into being.


Night and Day

by: Sophia K. ’24

“The stars still shone and the day had drawn only a pale wash of light in the lower sky to the east,”  — John Steinbeck


The sun rises and shadows fall

Birds chirp their songs and call their cry

The stars flee from the light

A day is born after the night

A new era of possibility arises

And all the animals come to play


All of the children love to play

The night gets longer in the fall

And as the time to work arises

The mother hears her baby’s cry

They had a long and restful night

Reluctantly, they greet the light


However, cats enjoy the light

They stretch their legs and start to play

Nobody watched them through the night

And though they jump, they never fall

They yowl, and mice flee from their cry

The need to feed and hunt arises


The dogs lick their owner as he arises

The window lets in beams of light

Again, the baby starts to cry

The dogs all urge their owner to play

The owner walks down the stairs, only to fall.

What a short night


Only owls and parents greet the night

Parents finally rest as the moon arises

So grateful for the lengthened nights that happen in the fall

The sky turns black without the light

Games stop as children cease to play

Now silent is the baby’s cry


Parents don’t miss the baby’s cry

They love the silence of the night

Only owls are awake to play

And with the owls, the raccoon arises

They love the night and scorn the light

They love the chilly wind of fall


As they play,  they stop their cry

They wonder at the fall of night

Once more, the sun arises, bringing light.


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