Of course on this night we are supposed to be asleep so Santa
could come, but we hadn't been home from Midnight Mass very long, and the
invigorating cold was not conducive to sleep. Even the hot chocolate did not do
much to help sedate the excitement.
We were hoping for sleds that year. The snow was perfect for
sledding especially like we did it. We tied out sleds on behind the car or pick up
and were pulled through the hills. We got our sleds. My dad and my uncle made
them for us.
No television and only in the late years were we allowed to use the
radio. Batteries were to expensive for frivolous use. We spent many hours
playing cards or games.
I took time out and went to high school and college and got my
My aunt taught there only one year after the Federal Government
turned the schools over to the local government.
The last time I was back there the out buildings had been moved and
Indian families were living in them. The school was dirty and unkept.
Now the school is gone. The ancestors who once walked these
dusty plains are gone. The Indians who were there when I was a child are gone.
They are Ghosts. Ghosts whose faces can be seen in the clouds.
Ghosts who still chop wood on those sub zero nights. And the drums we heard
in the middle of the nights are still beating. They beat as strongly as the heart
beats in a healthy body. The laughter of the children still echoes under the
The life blood of a culture, of a nation grows thin. The Battle of
Wounded Knee was the last battle to be fought between the white man and the
Indian on the northern plains. It's cries still echo across the land.
My foot prints in the creek did not last any longer than those they left
in the dust. But in my memories, this mile and a half by three quarter mile haven
still lives. And will live forever as a piece of unrecorded history.
Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2007
A Poem Time Forgot II
Sponsor: Silent One
I saw heaven once again in your eyes,
and felt it in your arms when wrapped
all around me...
Intertwined like barbed wire on a fence,
the comfortable warmth all came rushing
back to me again...
like grandma and her childhood
memories of when her mother would
~You are a beautiful man.
That old familiar scent of breath
came stumbling down my neck,
and I recalled the time you held me
making sure I would remember that feeling
when I am alone.
Whenever away from your strong arms,
I recall it to my mind,
and all seems so new,
like the first day of my life
I am reborn, and...
~You are a beautiful man.
You came to me in friendship,
now the keeper of my heart.
Funny how I never thought we would
end up together.
Guess that's how love works sometimes.
You always see it happen
on those old movies and wonder
if it can really happen that way, and..
~You are a beautiful man.
Thank you for being so real,
true and individualistic,
so full of smiles, laughter and love.
How can there not be any love
in you sweetheart?
A heart without love is like
an ocean without water..
it does not exist.
When in deep discussion,
feeling lucky enough
to listen to you,
or simply sitting in silence,
you show me a love like no other.
So, in return I love you, for...
~You are my beautiful man.
World Literature Class
Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2015
The rehearsals are over and now it’s first night
All worked tirelessly for the audience’s delight
It all flows so smoothly – oh what a relief
A fabulous production of ‘Sunshine on Leith’
The show tells the story of the ups and downs in life
Of Scottish couple Rab and Jean his beautiful wife
Soldiers Ally and Davy return from fighting in war
Can Liz and Yvonne find the love they are looking for?
Great singing and acting, graceful ballet dancing too
The cast and crew worked so hard to bring this to you
With a song in each scene - some left your toes a tapping
Each Act was brilliant and had the audience clapping
18th February 2015
Written as a tribute for the amazing school production I saw on 5th February
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
This poem is a farewell piece of advice to a group of students I have taught over the last four years. I do
hope they find the metaphor meaningful and believe that they are the "architects of their own future."
Spread before you is a canvas of hope and opportunity
Waiting to be painted with strokes of what you are and can be
Waiting to be filled with colours that define you and the life you live
Waiting to be stamped with the personality that only you can give
To the portrait of your life, by itself a work of art
A work which, on this day, with vigour you will start
Spread before you is a canvas of vision and desire
Waiting to be sketched with shades of passion and fire
Waiting to be decorated with a story and theme
Waiting to be etched with ambition that is now just a dream
Of a picture whose tone, texture and style
Would have made this work worth all the while
Spread before you is a canvas, empty, yet full of space
Waiting to be stroked with your wit, charm and grace
Waiting to be brushed with strokes daring, vivid and bold
Waiting to be painted with a story that can be told
Of a life whose essence is one of sublime beauty
Of a person who lived his life and did his duty
Of a person who lived life the way it should be
Of a complete canvas that will reflect many a memory.
Copyright © Alister Renaux | Year Posted 2009
YOU’RE THE WEAK ONE
You’re the weak one, you’re a bully. The weak one is definitely
The bully is always the weak one, but your weakness you can’t
seem to see.
So, I’m going to try to shed a little light on your weak and inappropriate ways.
Your weakness began on your first bullying day.
Your false sense of power is not strength at all; it is a cry for help desperately trying to break through.
I actually feel a little sorry for you.
Weak kids like you always seek to find other kids they can dominate.
Bullies do this with vicious words, inappropriate actions, and misguided hate.
Is being a weak bully the banner you want to carry for the rest of your life?
Get rid of the bully banner forever; take up a banner that shows respect,
understanding, and tolerance for others, and always hold that one very high.
Copyright © Al Johnson | Year Posted 2012
Year after year, young people inspire me.
The freshness of youth brings forth curiosity.
Diversity and personality scream, it seems –
Noisily, boisterously, playfully, hope knocks.
Each child has amazing talents to unlock.
Shy ones work in silence while some classmates tease.
Others squirm around on a whim and a breeze.
Did you guess? I am a substitute teacher.
I learn something new every day that I work.
I guess you might say it is a hidden perk.
I love my work and I love to learn from many.
There was one high school boy
A class leader who loved to rap –
Talking, laughing, rapping; class behavior zapped.
I saw impending disruption; So, I struck a deal.
My clever solution was a bit surreal.
When everyone finished their work, he could rap.
Work first, then fun was my motto; he took charge.
His group of "homies” got to work right away.
The classroom was silent that wonderful day.
So, just as I promised, ten minutes at the end,
He started a beat others joined from their seat.
Line upon line he rapped words with rhyme.
Then, point to a classmate who would rap in time.
It was so much fun to see faces aglow.
When he pointed to me, I used poetry.
From that day forward, when he was in my class,
He would ask me to write a class poem, alas.
They would give me a topic and a few key words.
The students worked first; then, my poem was heard.
They would listen to my poems line after line.
I can still see his face after all of these years.
The sparkle in his eyes untangled my fears.
Years later, I was bored out of my mind.
My hip disintegrated; I was confined.
What would I do? The answer, I could not find.
I remembered that boy and that he liked my work.
It was his and his classmates’ reactions –
They influenced me to take writing action.
I joined Poetry Soup; poetry became a love affair.
I met friends, studied forms and wrote anywhere.
Paper towels or notebook paper, it mattered not.
When away from my computer, I would jot.
That boy brought the beginning; self-confidence.
His cheery influence blessed me with lifetime joy.
They liked my poems; so, I wrote thousands more.
All of this because of one young boy who will never know,
It was his good-word raps that set my soul aglow.
March 8, 2017
Written for the Poetry Contest - Younger People Who Have Inspired You
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2017
I am the wind
as it heavenly sings.
I am the single rose
sitting in a barren land.
I am the the lions voice,
and the partridge voice as they
I am the beam of light
penetrating the vastness
of the worlds darkness.
The secret power is
no secret,the secret
power is me.
I am the secret power revealed
and concealed in greatness.
I am the suns majestic flames.
The clarity of rain drops,
the zest ,to the minds
bland thoughts of boredom.
I am entertainment.
I am the wood pecker,
soaring steadily in the
balmy winds picking at success.
I am the eagles soaring over
sweet allysum, capturing the sent.
Stupendous I am,
Preening my mind with knowledge,
a pen rigged with wisdom,
wisdom speaks beyond paper
as it leaks from the pore of my quill.
I am the potion full of devotion.
My pen rigged with morphine,
killing I hope the pain of my readers
You are no longer lugubrious,
lugubrious you are not.
Healed and fixed upon the first dosage.
I am ,I am ,
I am the poetic doctor,wooing medicine
from the green pastures,
to robe my pen with healing secrets.
I am the nectarines of peach orchards
basting the mouth of pages with sweet words.
Sweet splash sweet splash. I am the sweet taste.
I am the revival of a sun baked raisin, the
revival to a corps laying beneath circling
vultures of the Arabian dessert.
I am the fragments of light circling your heart,a campfire,
the supplier of its poetic aspire.
I am the fridge for poetic dreams,
preventing from expire, raising
heat of poetry soup higher and higher.
Ill never retire until my face
wrinkled and my hair grey wire.
My pen aiming for a writing desire.
On icy roads I keep traction with
hot ink and mental snow tires.
I am a poet wrobed with
creative ink and sapphire.
I am safe gaurding the gates
of a dying world of poetry.
looked upon as a fool why should I stop,
because kids from high school saide iam not cool,
what is their some rule that makes it uncool.
It must be april fools ,safe guarding
your desire is a golden rule.
I am the hope, iam poetrys stool fueling
it with my hand tool full of ink iam the talisman of poetrys gates.
I know who I am and this inspires ME!!!
By: Elliott Bowe
Copyright © Elliott Bowe THe DrUnKeN POeT | Year Posted 2012
How the years seem to flow
More quickly with each passing one
And less, it seems that we get done
With what years we’ve now left
Let this not, though,
Be our shame
Let us use each year the same
As we would use our waning breath
Until at last our earthly death
Does come, one final
by Donna Golden
May 23, 2005 (A few months before my twenty year high school reunion!)
Copyright © Donna Golden | Year Posted 2007
I do not know?
Hey people why you listen to the people that don’t matter. You all get mad when the talk
sh&t and when they put you down. Why do you think they continue to do it? It is because
they get a reaction out of you and it drives them to get more. They feel like they have
control over you and they are your masters and its pathetic. I’m not innocent no one is.
Everyone does it either because they have had it done to them or because they feel like
they have to be noticed. I’ve realized if you just laugh and completely ignore them you will
have a better life and it will make life out to be better then what you thought it could ever
be. I know I can’t say I’m fully able to ignore everyone but it’s a process I have made a lot
of progress and I have learned I am a lot happier and feel way better when I just laugh or
walk away. If people actually stopped and didn’t say anything and laughed about it more
people would stop bullying. I know it’s very hard to believe me and it’s a process I think
everyone needs to take. Who are they to judge you? You are the only one who needs to
accept you for you. If you can’t accept what you are and what your personality is without
being embarrassed about it you can’t live with anyone else. If you stop right now and think
about all of the times you retaliated and said something back at the person that was
bothering you did it get better or did it get worse and ay what if I don’t say anything maybe I
won’t get angry and maybe they will leave me alone. If you can take the first step even
though it is the hardest one there is to take you will have a better outlook on life and
yourself and you will be happier then you could ever imagine. I don’t care who you are if
you will only make the first step the next steps are a lot easier and you will learn to live life
to the fullest and it will make you have more friends and you will have a better life style and
you will have more fun instead of always being mad and sad and depressed. If everyone in
the world would just take that one fateful step it would make all of the difference.
Copyright © Brandon Allison | Year Posted 2009
To play as if today
Is your only chance.
Some say, “It’s just a game.”
Have they done the Victory Dance?
When hard-earned Victory
Was finally at hand,
Have they felt the glory
Raining down from the stands?
To do or not to do….
No one wants to hear, “We tried.”
Effort and dedication will be rewarded…
They are the magic on your side.
Yes, to fall short is still an option;
But much better to succeed.
Heroes are made and remembered
Only by their deeds.
So, just go out and win.
Give your all to each and every chance.
Persevere and achieve…
And do the Victory Dance.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
My kindergarten teacher and I’d guess probably yours
Taught me all I need to know to open all the doors
She taught me all my letters and how to write them out
She taught me about indoor voice and there is no need to shout
She read to me for hours; she taught me 2 + 2
She said “in learning there is power and I’m giving that to you”
She taught me how to make friends and how friends help friends get by
She taught me how to make amends when I made others cry
She taught me that in sharing I get more than I give
She taught me that in caring a better life I’d live
She taught me about teamwork and how to be discerning
But most of all she taught me a life-long love of learning
My kindergarten teacher passed away some time ago
I never got to thank her but I’d hope somehow she’d know
A kindergarten teacher is an angel in disguise
Leading – loving – learned - intelligent and wise
If not for kindergarten teachers who knows where we would be
Thank your kindergarten teacher, once for you and once for me
Copyright © mike dailey | Year Posted 2011
When I was a sophomore, I was in love with "Chemistry"
Just as soon as I fell, for the girl sitting right next to me
When I turned, junior, I hated "History"
Because as it turned out, she and I had two different "Philosophy"
But if you must know, I love "Math" the best
It was how I subtracted her out from all the rest
Although "English" was by far the most useful of all
Well, I mean, it’s kind of true next to "P.E" and basketball
"Physics" became a sort of breaking of the ice
Once I supplied her with an equation that’d made her, to look at me twice
As a senior, I sort of had fun with "Political-Science"
Sure enough, we got back together with only a little of her defiance
As for electives, I chose "Creative-writing" and, of course, "Art"
I drew her a picture and wrote her name in my heart
"Graduation" came and we were both happy and sad
As we reflected on every single moment we ever had
Then we held each other’s hand with words-said in limited supply
Because we knew, inevitably; we can only say goodbye, in a sigh!
By: Wilbert E. Dela Cruz
Copyright © Wilbert Dela Cruz | Year Posted 2015
Kids go down
The slide…they head toward the swings
TIME TO SCREAM!
Free time ends
Their parents want to go home
Copyright © JW Earnings | Year Posted 2013
Fifty years, boy and man, I’ve been a Sooners fan;
And watched thousands of recruits try to make my Sooners Team.
Often, I’ve enviously wondered what it must be like
To be a touted Sooners recruit, living out his dream.
He’d had a great career through high school;
Made good grades, was a football star, played baseball too.
Coach said college recruiters were watching closely;
So, he tried his very best to make his dream come true.
You see, he’d played on the L’il Sooners as a kid;
Started getting serious about the game when he was only eight
Played with older, bigger boys and practiced hard;
Always told his friends, “To be a Sooner, ya gotta play great”.
Oh yes, his parents raised a football player;
And, even more important, a Sooners fan;
But he wanted more, to be a Sooner,
To feel the glory raining down from the stands.
Now, the Sooners’ Head Coach is in his living room.
“Son, you’ve got talent. We think you fit our scheme.
We’re offering you a scholarship, an opportunity
To be an important member of our great Sooners Team”.
His mother smiles her biggest smile.
His father nods proudly and pats him on the knee.
“Lord knows, son, it’s a dream come true.
Go be the very best Sooner you can be”.
He walks into the locker room,
Not quite sure what to expect;
But sure that to play for the Sooners
He will first have to earn respect.
He looks each man straight in the eye -
Other recruits, trainers, assistants, and every coach.
“Be proud, but respectful”, his mother had said;
Your character, more than your performance, must be above reproach”.
His handshake is firm and he smiles.
“Only one chance for a first impression”, his father had said;
"Always put yourself in positive light, on and off the field.
That’s what it will take to play for the mighty Big Red”.
He meets so many other recruits, each one a high school star.
He’s played against a few and knows they share his dream.
And, to a man, each knows before any chance for Glory,
He first must prove worthy to play for this Sooners Team.
He knows a few will fail to meet the coaches’ expectations.
For some, the scout team will be their fate.
Many will suit up, but rarely play.
Only the very best will ever dare to be great.
Coach says, “If every man learns and executes when called on,
Then this team, we Sooners, will win a lot of games;
But, win or lose, if you play hard and give your very best,
You’ll never have to hang your heads in shame”.
“But gentlemen, with or without you, this team will win.
Every season, the Sooners strive to win it All.
So, listen, work hard, and prepare yourselves. Each game is war...
And you must be ready when Victory calls”.
Through grueling practices, he finds himself.
As he walks to class, his closest friends are aches and pains;
But, just the other day, Coach helped him up, smiled, and patted his helmet.
“You’re doin’ fine, son. Keep pushin’. Remember, no pain, no gain”.
He sees his name on the "open scrimmage" roster for the very first time.
It’s a moment he’ll never forget, another milestone in his dream.
He calls his Mom and Dad, knowing they’ll tell his family and his friends.
He hopes they’ll actually see him play, proof he’s made the Team.
As he suits up for the last pre-season open scrimmage,
He wonders if the coaches would really let a freshman play at all;
But Coach puts him in for eight plays against the first team;
He makes two great open-field tackles and intercepts the ball.
He barely hears the roar of the crowd, as the whole defense “gives him five”.
He’s so excited, he forgets to ask if he can keep that ball.
Fans are buzzing, “Did you see that hit”!? “Who is that kid”!?
“Will he red shirt or will Coach let him play this fall”?
He sees his name in the Sunday paper, hears it on local sports.
He’s happy, but he doesn’t let it go to his head.
He keeps his focus and uses it as motivation.
After all, he wants to start one day for the mighty Big Red.
Yes, we’ll hear more of this young recruit.
Perhaps, one day he’ll be the hero of the game.
A seasoned veteran, maybe All Conference or even All American,
Who’s tasted Victory many times and helped glorify the Sooners’ name.
Oh yes, there have been so many who’ve aspired;
But many fewer who’ve actually made our Sooners Team.
They are our heroes, each and every one;
For it’s through their accomplishments, we fans can live the dream.
Billy Vessels, Steve Owens, Billy Sims, and Jason White,
The Selmons, Little Joe, the Boz, Josh Heupel, and “Q”
They, and so many others, were once touted Sooners recruits;
Who set a higher mark and built the Tradition that is OU.
So, c’mon! c’mon! all you great young football players!
Dedicate your talents to OU’s Team and OU’s Fans.
Make Oklahoma’s Owen Field your Field of Dreams,
And feel the Glory raining down from the stands.
Copyright © Robert Candler | Year Posted 2014
Of all the trials and test this year
A lot of nerves, a lot of fear
By the grace of God I’m here to tell
It all ended up going very well
If life is a journey, school is a maze
A wonderful way to spend your days
So much diversity, so much culture
Feels so good to no longer be a vulture
Picking scraps up off the bone
Heart encased in a block of stone
I simply love being tender and true
Like a billowy cloud in a sky so blue
Floating on air for the world to see
Like a peacock strutting proud as can be
Yet, forever humble and forever true
Eyes no longer red they’re clear and blue
No longer living all tired and funky
I kicked the crap up out of my monkey
Kid’s gather to me like chicks to a trough
I welcome them in I never shrug them off
Which is truly as strange as strange can be
I once would have said, “Get away from me”
“Nothing in me should be considered good”
“You’re looking for a hero, I’m no Robin Hood”
Today, I’m first to school and first in my seat
With exuberance for life, which can’t be beat
With kids gathering to me looking to study
Listening in awe to their gray headed buddy
I’m forever speaking on life and all that it entails
Guiding my younger friends down happy trails
Being very careful to not criticize or judge
You can’t help someone holding a grudge
I tell all the youngsters with a heart so true
I traveled one hell of a road to get to you
I have a single goal before I enter my grave
I want to teach you all how to not be slaves
Don’t let fears and addictions control your life
That’s an endless road of sorrow and strife
Make your dream and grab your star
Let the world see who and what you are
Whatever you do, do it with a smile
Life is truly a gift enjoy it for awhile
It feels so strange to feel so good
We all have it in us to be Robin Hood
I dedicate this poem to all the youngsters
who come over to my house to study. You
know, I never would have dreamed that I
would be considered a good example. It's
truly amazing what the Lord can do in our
lives. The correlation I'm speaking of with
Robin Hood; is that we all have it in us to
take from the bad and give to the good.
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2010
Teachers Teach us.
They give us speeches and praise us like Jesus
But they're not holy, swag.
They cater solely, for themselves;So selfish.
Some are rude and crabby;So shellfish.
There are fat teachers, black teacherswhite teachers, nice teachersmean teachers, Chinese teachersshort teachers, tall teachers real teachers, fraud teachersThey all have one thing of mutualityIt's the reality that their mentalityis somewhat less of a formality
But in actuality an amorality to separate individuality and callously cause a casualty within the academy!
This insanity is why humanity can embarrass me because instead of practicalities teachers search for cavities, abnormalities, incapacitiesand irrationally devise a strategy to tactfully act valiantly.
But will still unhappily fail students for what they see is blasphemyits fallacy!
This rhapsody I tragically quote rapidly will acidly still be viewed as a travesty
And I'll still disastrously speak profanity to the facultyAnd keep my centre of gravity up like I'm on a balance beam.
I aim to be satisfactory, not great or any better
This madness will fractionally cause my fatality but ill happily see every person that ever doubted me praising me surrounding meclouding me with a comradely like I Just saved the galaxy
And naturally I'm a hero nationally for upstaging our teachers vanity
This Veracity for becoming an anomaly has fuelled my heart with audacity and now I sit lavishly lackingthe spirituality to gallantly care about this municipality that we live in
And teachers teach inso I guess my speech ends with a brief description of some frequent fiction Teachers, if we speak upWill you freakin listen?Because this cheap conviction of you I speak is different.
Copyright © Denzel Kennedy | Year Posted 2015
I have been praying to God ever since I first understood the concept of a deity. Although I have struggled through life with my acceptance of and belief in the religion I was force fed as a child, the praying has always stayed with me – on an almost every day basis. In some way or some form or for some reason, it seems, I find myself praying to a God I am not sure I believe in.
Over the years, some of the things I have prayed for or prayed against have worked out in my favor. Other things didn’t quite work out the way I had hoped. So, I wondered, was this proof that my prayers are sometimes answered or simply the law of averages? It really didn’t matter, I was programed to pray and so pray I do.
This has been going on pretty routinely for over 50 years; so, imagine my surprise when, for the first time last night, God talked back to me!
I may not get this exactly right, but, in essence, this is what He had to say:
(I am not sure what font to type God’s words in, so I will just keep on with the default.)
“Joe, Joe, Joe. I have been listening to you for all your life. And, whereas I do enjoy your thoughts; your words; and your sentiments; I find it is time for me to respond.
You really do pray a lot for lots of things. Mostly good and humane things. Mostly with a pure and caring heart. But, son, you need to stop doing so much praying and start doing more stuff on your own. I am not up here to make your life easier and to do things for you.
When you were young, instead of praying for that bicycle, you should have been doing chores to earn money towards buying it. You could have cut more lawns, washed more cars, got a paper route, sold lemonade, or many other things other young boys were doing to earn money for the things that they wanted.
When you were in high school and prayed to me to help you do well in your wrestling matches, you should have, instead, been working harder at practice; spent more time on your conditioning; spent more time in the weight room; and studied harder on the art of wrestling.
In college, when you prayed for help on your mid-terms and finals, you should have, instead, spent more time studying and less time partying – I think that is something you already know.
Even when you pray on behalf of others – you should be doing more.
Instead of praying I would help old Mrs. Conner at the end of your street, you should have gotten up off your butt and walked down to the end of the street and looked in on her yourself. You could have offered to go to the store for her, pick up her prescriptions or simply keep her company in her final years.
When you prayed for me to care for the starving children around the world, you should have been volunteering to help out yourself or donating more money towards this cause. If you funneled all the money you spent on unnecessary junk food and extra meals you consumed throughout the years towards charities that help feed and clothe the poor, you could have saved many of the children you prayed that I would save.
Instead of praying that I cure your family, friends and acquaintances that you knew were ill or dying, you should have been visiting them in the hospital or writing them letters or providing assistance to their loved ones to help ease their pain.
Prayer is not the vehicle for you to be lazy and yet gain the rewards. Prayer is not a means to have me do for others what you have the power and ability to do yourself.
I am glad that you talk to me, but you have been granted the ability and means to do so much more by yourself and yet you choose to take the easy way out and pray to me – the God that I know you are confused about. Please, do me a favor, and before you pray, ask yourself, ‘Have I exhausted all avenues available to me to achieve the result I want God to perform?’
If, after you have done everything you can possibly do, then I may be more willing to consider what it is you ask for.
And now, my son, you can wake up.”
I sat up quickly in my bed, sweating and confused. Was I just dreaming? Was that really God talking to me? Then, somewhere from deep inside, either from my conscious or a left-over message from the Almighty Himself, I thought (or heard): “What does it matter? Whether it was God or not – the message is valid and something I probably already knew.”
“Well,” I said to myself, in prayer, “I will give it my best. But, is it okay if we still talk? It kind of helps to give me strength?”
I will take that as a, “Yes”.
Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2012
My younger years - I don't know how
At six and seven folks had a cow!
The journey through the mind begins
Do not think the devil wins!
In middle school has a crash
Doing some things rather rash!
In high school had good grades
Then they dropped - almost like Hades!
Drove and walked many a mile
Just to see myself and smile!
God rescued me and set me free
From a thing called apathy!
Love God's plan - it makes me smile
To think of things that are worthwile!
I might have had to just stop college
But in experience have great knowledge!
Born to help others - don't you see?
I think it is reality!
Copyright © Joshua Lacey | Year Posted 2010
I do not know?
This is my time to shine,
To live a life that is mine.
This is my time to glow,
And let my true feelings show.
This is my time to cry,
To laugh, and to sigh.
This is my time,
And only mine.
I won't let it pass me by,
Like a fading star in the midnight sky.
This is my time.
Copyright © Brianna Parsons | Year Posted 2016
We would like to welcome you,
To our celebration created just for the people who,
Are significant members of our family tree.
We love you indeed.
You’ve guided us to achieve many goals.
We want to be like you.
Grandma and grandpa we hold you dear to our hearts,
And even when you’re gone we’ll carry your legacy,
On to our future members of the family tree.
Today we want you to view,
What we hold in our hearts oh so true.
We welcome and value you,
So sit back relax and enjoy the program
Designed for you involving your grand boys and girls.
Grandparents you make our world go round,
And we hope that you enjoy our gracious sounds.
Copyright © Nicole Sharon Brown | Year Posted 2009
KG, the "Big Ticket"
as you are fondly called
every game you bring it
playing so fierce and so bold..
From high school sensation
to NBA superstar
an MVP recognition
and a 10-time All-Star..
Filling up the stats
and lighting up the scoreboard
with each board, dime, swipe, swat,
and every hoop that you score..
The talent, the leadership,
the aura, the appeal,
the whole package, you have it
plus all those endorsement deals..
An outstanding contributor
on and off the court
a citizenship award winner
the community you support..
One of the greatest ever
but still without a ring
soon you'll get what you deserve
and be hailed champion, a king..
Copyright © Rany Fortuno | Year Posted 2006
I do not know?
Feel to the anguish of the less fortunate
Picture those who opt for shortcuts in life
Sense their grief for they’ve missed out
They forgot a simple life’s equation
Hard work bares success
See the crack of dawn
Even though the day is not firmly established
Just like your journey, it has just begun
Each second present you with a chance
A chance to better yourself for future
Strive not to be the same as yesterday
For yesterday is history
In life nothing is promised
But through hard work anything is attainable
Learn from your predecessors, O! You chosen ones
See the miles of my journey through my grey headed
My journey was lonely and tiring
I lived as if tomorrow will be dissimilar
Now I know change is now
O! If you would listen to my adage
Our era maybe dissimilar
But the challenges are similar
Let my impediments be your road signage’s
To help you avoid the knocks I took
So that you prosper a satisfying life
Let each opportunity fill your artillery
To allow your mind to discharge missiles
That can help you crack your impediments
Just like the light penetrates the darkness
Fire the thought that says, you can’t
Because your love for life, tells me you can!
Yes you can
Copyright © Bongani Zungu | Year Posted 2014
P aranoia permeates, etching itself into your fractured face,
A cacophony of constant pressure; life remains a stressful race,
N othing to hope for, no positives like promotion in the workplace,
I nability to love, relationships lift anchor and set sail without chase,
C hildren crushing dreams under mortgages; age grows with disgrace
Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013
in grade school
he heard about it
in high school
he prepared for it
in his first year
he explored it
in his second year
he focused on it
in his third year
he felt part of it
in his fourth year
he graduated from it
Now, he has a job
because of it.
Copyright © Cathy Ncube | Year Posted 2011
Happiness in a Wrong way – Zamreen Zarook
In the notion of seeking happiness,
I thought of stepping in to nonsense,
I dream I could find success,
But I had only little access.
Every attempt that I lend,
It was an utter failure at the end,
My life was full of difficult bend,
But God is always there as a good friend.
My deeds travel in various ways,
Some times in subways,
Or in times it goes in highways,
But I had the belief, God is there always.
North and south families surrounded,
East and west friends are rounded,
Every time fear on death soughed,
I am trapped, and my merits are loaded.
Copyright © Zamreen Zarook | Year Posted 2013
Underneath a gorgeous forenoon sky,
In a lush and cool garden of delight,
The green pheasant lifts his exploring eye,
Calling his all wise sage beyond his sight.
His melodious song praises the divine One,
Whose luminance descends in a beam,
Touching within the shrine bright as the sun,
Turning every thing gold as in a dream.
The Lord rests now upon His noble throne,
Calling all to climb up the stairs of stone.
There my reverie of Jesus commenced--
The glory of His office deified,
His knowledge of man’s history there dispensed,
His science of the present thither described.
Wisdom of the future was His display,
Myself humbled to receive His cachet.
Five years of learning was spent at this shrine--
Proving command of as many disciplines--
Crossing the bridge from human to Divine,
His acute knowledge of miracles begins.
Then writing for His testimonial,
Also history that brightens the wise,
With focus on the rites ceremonial,
And how theocracy does authorize.
Divine authority added to His reign,
With the King’s seal He departs the domain.
Copyright © Albert Price | Year Posted 2009
Blank Verse Rhyme
The master said “create blank verse in lines of ten”.
Form five Iambic feet without a rhyme.
“These five Iambic feet you must achieve”.
The verse will have a rhythm you can hear,
when studied closely this will be revealed.
For, lines of blank verse rhyming discontents
the master. “Do it over, take all night”!
The lines of blank verse sing a little song,
each syllable, each rhyme, you’ll hear them ring!
You’ll sing the tune of verses blank and pure.
And now I keep up with this blank verse trick,
I hear its tick ten syllables per line.
It rhymes so soft; I have it mastered now,
so naturally it falls right from my pen.
Oh, where will this blank verse rhyme find an end?
Yet, twenty lines of syllables came out
much faster still than I had thought they should.
I love each rhyme, the timing so precise,
I hope it pleased the eye and ear. I turned
it in, it came back very clearly signed
Copyright © Tiffany Ragsdale | Year Posted 2012
We Need God Back Into Our Schools!
There are some trying to remove God from this nation!
They do is under; “a church and state separation.”
For many years, God was taught in our schools!
Until the Supreme Court took it away, with it’s rules!
As so many young people look to fill life’s “void.”
They try many things that they think they’ll enjoy!
Rather than having God’s word to obey and live by.
They choose the kind of life that they will die by!
Drugs, sex and violence of many perverted kinds.
Are what is now filling so many young people’s minds!
Read the headlines! Many young people are stressed out!
Yet our government can’t seem to figure it out!
Another shooting… Another act of violence appears!
While any kind of answer seems to have disappeared!
The answer is not more money to solve their problem!
No matter how much the government tries to solve them!
Let me give you answer. It’s called “read the Bible 101!”
It’s time to repent to God the father, the spirit and the son!
Our young people need God brought back into their life!
And allow him to heal their brokenness and strife!
Jesus Christ is the solution for which many are asking!
Only he can give anyone a life that’s everlasting!
Please come Lord Jesus! And heal the wounded hearts!
It’s everyone one of us, that it needs to start!
No court or school can separate God’s love for you and me!
Where will you spend your eternity?
By Jim Pemberton 10/24/13
Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013
And itchy saddles
But still on
Leaving over this worth
Appreciating all as they come
And fallen figures
Yet still on
Throbbing so long
Seeing it afar
But still holding so far
Almost over I hope
And thinking it’s done
Headed for quittance
With hugs for success
Copyright © Basiru Alumbugu | Year Posted 2015
The location of the Spring Creek School was on a flat, nestled
between the cliff on the north and the Little White River on the south. The river
flowed in from the northwest, circled to the south of the school about a quarter
mile and wended it's way east departing to the northeast. Though I never saw it
in my day I imagine this was once a flood plain. Yes, at one time this could
easily have been the scene of flash floods. The waters tumbling and sloshing
their way across this insignificant piece of ground in a hurry to reach the exit.
Time had slowed the waters and erosion had taken it's tole, leaving the west and
south in twenty to thirty foot sharp sandy cliffs. The ground sloped to the east
leaving a two foot drop off. A sandy graded road approached the large heavy duty
bridge, crossed and continued on as a trail road.
It's summer and the Little White River gently rolls from bend to bend.
We are running back and forth across the bridge stopping now and then to lean
over the rail and watch the Indian children splashing in the only deep spot. It was
first comers got the choice spot. Big deal! Chest deep to a ten year old.
We run off the bridge south. The graded road crosses a big culvert
allowing a small spring access to the river where it fans out at the point of entry.
We run through the crystal liquid turning it into chocolate and leaving dents in the
once smooth sand. This is a child's paradise. Sand so pure, soft and powdery
warmed by the sun. The deeper we dig the cooler the sand becomes as it is
joined by the moisture below.
Our mothers put limits on our water sports. First: we had to wait an
hour after the meal to get in the water. Second: polio was a concern in our day
and we didn't get to play as often as we thought we should. Third: we were not
allowed to swim unless our mothers were with us. With the gardening, house
keeping and canning, we were lucky if we got to swim two or three times a week.
I guess that is why we spent most of our time on horseback.
On the ridge north of the school stood a lookout tower. In the long
evenings we would be found always outside, either sitting on the steps, running
up and down the fire escapes or in the front yard. This was the only real green
grass in the area. It was fenced to keep cattle or horses from trampling it into the
mirrored image of its surroundings. This enclosure measured fifty by a hundred
feet and was kept watered. A large tree provided the only shade
Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2007