First Page Critique: A Middle-Grade Novel in Verse

This weeks critique is a middle grade novel in verse, currently titled "tilt." Study it today and come back tomorrow to see my feedback.

Notebook

I’ve kept notebooks

forever. Mom has all of them

in a box somewhere.

Each filled with thoughts, ideas and drawings.

My current notebook is

dedicated to Jackson

It has all the poems

I’ve written about my friend.

I started writing about

Jackson the first summer he was gone

I wanted to remember everything

about him, every last

detail. Even when I didn’t stay.

Rhymes With

Tilt.

Dad’s expression for

the changing course

of an event.

Kinda like playing pinball

if you’re clever

you can “tilt” the game

and if not, game over.

Tilt is also

like the carnival

“tilt-a-whirl” that

spins you round

until you become dizzy,

like I did

that spring night two years ago.

Also rhymes with guilt.

Walking Home

School’s almost out

jump and shout

School’s almost out

Jumping and shouting all the way.

Only seventeen more walks?

Until elementary school is over

a summer to get

ready for middle school

Big changes ahead

Am I ready? No.

I’m already worried about that

first day.

Will I get lost? Will the older

kids be mean?

And my best friend from elementary school

wont’ be there.

I round the corner and there

in front of me, lips curled, head low, ears back,

a huge dog

blocks my path.

Run

Run. No, wait.

Think, Darrah, think

What did that lady say?

Be a log? No, a tree. Close my eyes?

I stop. Drop my pack.

Whisper: Freeze, Darrah, freeze.

Dare to glance down,

see that dog through buttonhole eyes.

Dog sniffs my backpack,

my shoelaces.

Does it smell fear?

Can it tell I’m shaking?

Meow-ow-ow-meow

Dog turns its head, sees the

cat teetering on the fence

bolts after it.

Puzzle Solver

I run home

through the front door, out the back door to

my trampoline, the puzzle solver!

Whoosh, plop! Whoosh, plop. Up. Down.

Knees bent, pushing off

I feel the last of the fear

dissolve. I wonder, whose dog?

Whoosh, plop! Whoosh, plop! Up. Down.

Did those people

adopt another dog?

How could they? Why would they?

Whoosh, plop! Whoosh, plop! Up. Down.

I wonder Jackson,

Do you have dogs with you

wherever you are.

Whoosh, plop! Whoosh, plop! Up. Down.

I wonder, Jackson,

were you with me today?

did you see that dog,

did you feel my fear?

Mischief Ninja

Mom yells

Darrah, getting dark out.

Yeah, okay, I yell back.

I whisper to the first glimmering star in the tangerine sky

Good-night Jackson.

Yep, I admit it. I talk to Jackson a lot.

He’s everywhere; apple tree tops,

tetherball, in class.

But last spring was different.

Clouds hung like funeral drapes,

my mom says we could cut the air with

a knife it was so still.

Stars vanished.

You see, my best friend

My mischief ninja:

Jackson.

Died.

Tilt.