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Best Poems Written by Belle Greenberg

Below are the all-time best Belle Greenberg poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Belle Greenberg Poem

I Am

I am weak. I am strong. I am right. I am wrong. I am everything in between and more. But what else?

I am nothing but a label that everyone knows. I am what I show you and that’s all. Nobody knows the things that I don’t show, the things I don’t reveal, like a letter with my contents unknown, with that seemingly unbreakable seal.

Take this all in. It may seem stupid but it all applies to you. That girl who wears too much makeup to hide how she really looks. The boy failing school for sports when all he must do is take another look at his books. That one person who is terrorized for being a pound over weight or that boy criticised for not seeming straight...

A label doesn’t make you, but the ideas can shake you. When you think you’re one thing, but seen as the exact opposite, that is hard to bear.

Being fat, skinny, smart, silly, dumb, popular, sporty, lazy, weird, mean, nice, tall, short, black, white, gay, straight, slutty, nerdy, pretty, ugly, anything that you’ve ever been called! It doesn’t mean anything if you don’t acknowledge it.

I know I am weird, I know I am crazy. I know I am rough, I know I am lazy. I know I am quirky, I know I am loud. I know I am annoying, but nonetheless, I am proud. Proud to be here, proud to be seen. Proud to be the one and only, original me.

Proud to be heard, proud to be. Proud to be noticed without being anything but me.

I know that you’re thinking that you’ve done nothing wrong, you’re the face of innocence, the sweet melody of a song. I’m sorry to say this, but it is the truth. You’re wrong about that and I have proof.

Newsflash: nobody cares who you think is the prettiest. Nobody cares about who you think is an idiot. If you think that you’re funny by calling someone out, you’re the pathetic one who has the audacity to make them doubt. Doubt themselves by saying “YOU DON’T FIT IN” when all they’ve ever done is invited you in. Into their lives, into their memories, into the book that tells their story with painful secrets that they risked letting you see.

You think that you know everyone at a glance, you size them up and judge them without giving them a chance. You call yourself someone’s friend and you say you mean it. You speak sweet words of friendship, but behind their backs, you demean it.

Before you say that boy is gay or that girl is slutty or that boy is stupid and that girl looks ugly, take a look at yourself, think long and hard, and ask yourself this: What if people saw ME like that?

Details | Belle Greenberg Poem

Welcome

On October 14th, 2002
At 6:34 in South Hampton, New York
A tiny baby girl
Brand new and alive
Enters the world
For the very first time
 
Her little face
pure and sweet
Curious eyes wander
Searching for answers
Soon to be revealed
 
The mother
Crying tears of joy
Looks at her baby
Her child
Her creation
 
The love of her life
 
The father
Anxious and excited
Waits for his wife and child
Unaware of what is in store
 
Tick! Tock! Of the clock on the wall
Waiting to see her face

At long last the reunion begins
A mother and daughter lock eyes
Love sparks
A shimmer glistens in the baby’s eyes
 
Years have been taken
Hours have been waited
And finally 
Their baby is born
After months of medicine
 
Of Canadian and American family
Youngest in one
Oldest in another
A new baby is born
Another branch in the endless tree
Soon to blossom
In the years to come
 
Isabella Grace Greenberg
Belle for short
Jewish and Christian
American and Canadian
Absolutely original
And everything in between

Details | Belle Greenberg Poem

A Recipe For Roots


Take a bit of Canadian family
 
Add a pinch of American descent
 
Sprinkle in a bit of Jordanian roots
 
And mix in a bit of Judaism
 
With a hint of Christianity
 
Mix in a bit of pure genes
 
With some nice features just to make a hint
 
Add a bit of love and care to the mix
 
And pop it into the oven
 
Bake at the perfect temperature
 
Until perfectly done
 
Take out of the oven and add the secret ingredient
 
FAMILY
 
There you have it
A recipe for roots!

Details | Belle Greenberg Poem

Year 3: Pre K

Older and more mature
Learning from mistakes
Age 3 was a year
Of utter experience
 
Dancing and singing
Like nobody was watching
Never silenced
By the dark night
 
Even if the words
Were unknown
More words went in their place
Never ending the tunes
 
Energy was crazy
Moving at high speeds
Never stopping to sit and stay
Swinging from everything in her path
 
But nonetheless
She began to understand
What this thing called life was
And she loved it

TV was now available
Commercials revealed
Worlds that she never knew existed
Were being handed to her
On a silver screen
 
She still wanted to learn
Despite all of the privileges
She had a hunger to learn
That couldn’t seem to be filled
 
Pre K began
She was dazed and confused
This wasn’t what she expected
But she went along with it
 
Not many memories
But enough to last her many years
Some good
Some bad
But all were hers
And she knew it

Details | Belle Greenberg Poem

He, She, They, Dance

She is nervous say beads of sweat dripping from her brow down to the floor.
She is scared says the worried expression on her glistening face.
Although she has a million butterflies swarming in her stomach, she is confident says the pile on pointe shoes in the corner of her room, all torn and teared like rags.
She is going to be okay says the warm and reassuring face he sends her.
It’s time says the stern and stiff voice of the people that stand before her and her fate.
The performance has begun says the taps of her pointe shoes on the rubbery ground.
She is a ballerina says her gorgeous legs and long feet.
She’s a fighter says her talent.

He is determined says his spirit and strength.
He has worked hard say the years of sacrifice.
He is hiding his nervousness says his face, hiding the feeling of worry and fear by replacing it with a smile as bright as the moon.
She is scared says the anxious face she gives him.
She will be okay says the face of a true fighter on his face.
The time has come says the turning on papers projecting from the tables to the wings where they stand.
The dance begins says the chime of the piano that sings the tunes in a perfect melody.

They are prepared say the hours of painful classes spent in a studio.
They are passionate say the hundreds of programs that spell out their names in big, bold letters.
They are persistant say their piles of rejection letters that landed in their mailboxes one to many times.
They must do this says the days spent choreographing and correcting that led up to this moment.
They are beautiful say the awed faces on the judges.
They are dancers say the perfect movements that shoot back at those tough judges.
The dance has ended says the final tap of the piano keys.
They are exhausted say their gasps for breath.
They made it in say their acceptance letters.
They are dancers.

Details | Belle Greenberg Poem

Once Upon a Dancer

In a town much like ours
 

A girl was dancing many hours
 
She loved it so much
 
That it made her blush
 
To hold flowers after her shows


She danced all through the year
 
Her friends thought it was queer
 
They struggled to make plans
 
But she always chose dance
 
Because she said she liked it better “here”

Details | Belle Greenberg Poem

Year 2: Adhd

Year two
A time for changing
Growing
And most of all
Speaking
 
Experienced in the art
Of forming words and phrases
Many were not prepared
For her verbal skill
 
Many sounds
No clue how to use them
Just an eager mind
And a mouth
 
Words as if on a map
Guiding her to more
Unknown and unexplored territory
But an unknown cause as well
 
Parents unaware
Of how the gears in her head worked
But someone did

Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder
ADHD, the crazy brain disorder
Unable to sit and stay
Like a disobedient dog
Resisting a leash
 
I don’t believe her, her mother said
That is not true, her father claimed
So they took her out of the school
In disbelief and disarray
 
But the woman was correct
The girl was wild
At least now they had a reason
 
Chit chat
Squiggle and squirm
Staying still was illegal
In her rambunctious mind
 
Nonetheless, the girl was theirs
Their little baby
Their prize
And they couldn’t love her
Any more

Details | Belle Greenberg Poem

Year 1: Curious

As the months go by
Plenty at a time
The baby grows and learns
But doesn’t know how
 
The parents become masters
Skills acquired
Quickly obtained
Frequently used
 
Walking and talking
All achieved
Before the age of one
Very impressive indeed
 
First words
Mimi, Dada, Boca, No
Footsteps turn to hopscotch
In less than 12 months
 
The baby is a handful
But it’s worth it
For the joy it brings the parents
Makes up for the struggles
 
As her mind grows
Her energy booms
Bouncing up and down
In her jolly jumper

One full year passes
Feels like a day
Unaware of the meaning
She smiles and laughs
Oblivious to the path
That lies ahead
 
Doctors visits
Tests and scans
Medicines of all kinds
Making it easier
For them to have a baby
 
Like a shooting star from heaven
She’s their light
Falling until it hits home
Bringing on new hope
 
All is well in the Greenberg household
Although many moments past
Many are sure to come
 
As Jacqueline Woodson said
“Somewhere in my brain
Each laugh, tear and lullaby
Becomes memory.”

Details | Belle Greenberg Poem

Just a Message

What I am about to say comes in many shapes and sizes, but none hold a candle the idea I see.

My thoughts go deep as I ponder and see my life float by like the wind or breeze.

Sometimes I look up to the sky and wonder what it is like to soar, stretch the world and explore and to fly.

Free like an idea or fire that rages destroying everything in its path.

One by one my mind drifts away like a memory sweet or sour.

Sides of me that go beyond what you see are the sides that are hardest to hide from you, but you only see the parts your eyes allow you.

I pass the passing people who are oblivious to my personality.

I wonder how they wish they were those who wish they were them but never want to waste their breath on such a wish.

And there it goes another idea that goes unnoticed, unrecognized, seen through like cellophane but never even approached.

I breathe it in and choke on it, a lost dream or wish gone by like a river.

Changing, growing, a life to be lived but shall never be because “you can't do that”, “that's impossible”

Voices clutter my mind and stop any idea or thought from forming like a wall separating me from reality. “You can't do that”, “That's impossible.”

“Just make it stop!” I cry as loudly as I possibly can so someone can hear me but nobody ever seems to so I scream even louder “I can do this!”

Until finally I hear it… silence.

Silence is good, but the quiet is dangerous.

I absorb the silence but release the quiet for silence is nothing and quiet is something but not loud enough for you to hear, like secrets “quietly” whispered without you even knowing it happened.

The silence takes over and I become one with my ideas and “you can't do that” becomes my inspiration.

My words flow out as they are right now until I take my last breath for ideas are creativity and creativity is innovation and innovation is the future and the future is me

I can't stop my mind won't allow me I type as fast as I possibly can and release my ideas onto a silver screen with every fiber of me I write and dream.

The suddenly… I hear the school bell. And the silence is gone...