Voting for the story telling contest is officially OPEN! You have until 11/2/11 to cast your vote (look to the ballot on the left side of the blog). The authors of the top 2 winning stories will receive a free Bread Co. breakfast the week of 11/7.
Poem #1
It’s Rad to be Green
Don’t stare, gawk or point your fingers at me
Hey, where I come from, it’s rad to be green
You scream, you squeal, you squawk like birds
Your judgment, your labels, sometimes they hurt
Where I’m from, everyone looks just like me
Be nice to your guest, I’m just visiting
But I won’t be back, your planets so mean
I’m going home to where everyone’s green
And everyone walks around on their thumbs
And talks with their ears and breathe with their tongues
You should accept people for who they are
So why not me too? Why is that so hard?
Is it my orange eyes? My black pointed nose?
Is it my red elbows or purple toes?
So what if I smell and have five blue arms?
I swear I won’t bite or cause any harm!
But no one believes me, no one listens
Not the people, the dogs or the kittens
Just the other day, I wanted some lunch
Walked to a café I found on a hunch
Like everyone else, I came in, sat down
Well the dumb waitress freaked and kicked me out!
She called the fuzz, they were hot on my tail
Chasing me trying to throw me in jail!
Lucky for me, my wings lifted me high
Those humans shot guns, threw swords, made me cry
I finally made it just out of range
Judgmental and rude, geez, humans are strange!
Farther and farther I flew to my world
‘Til I landed in a place not so cruel
No, I won’t return, no thank you, no ma’am
Heading to homeland as fast as I can
Next time remember this one simple rule
Not everyone is exactly like you!
- Olivia M.
Poem #2
Iambic Murder
There are those around that hide a dark past
Stories so strange that they'll leave you aghast
Not people but shadows-- long lasting guilt
Guilt that remains until their story is spill't
I too hide a secret from long ago
A history I'll regretfully show
Back then I was a young newspaper man
My stories would riddle all the news stands
I was the best and quite glad of it too
That is until Winston came out of the blue
He was a writer, but don't get me wrong
His articles were never written quite strong
No, what bothered me about Winston most
Is that he looked and spoke just like a ghost
His skin was pale, and he was always sick
The snot in his nose made his voice sound thick
At unfortunate times his schlep would drip
Out of his nostril and onto his lip
Nothing drove me so crazy as this cad
And on the thousandth sniff I went mad
At that moment I came up with a plan
That very evening I would kill this man
Twas simple enough, I followed him home
And I picked his lock with use of my comb
He was sick and slept on-top of his bed
He was sick, his pillow covered his head
He was sick as he tried to fight for air
He was sick as he wore a cold, blank stare
Poor sick Winston, heard he died in his sleep
Peaceful I guess, didn't bother to peep
That's what they said, shaking their heads
No one had guessed that I caused Winston's death
But you see, in this world nothing is free
And since that evening I've had a disease
Guilt plagues my body, and causes me shakes
Many nights go by in which I'm awake
I've become a ghost, like Winston had been
The price I pay for so deadly a sin
I only hope since the story is told
I can pass on without feeling so cold
- Sam C.
Poem #3
Small Talk
The bus to C-Town is two hours long
But it looks like a ghost town when I get on
Uneventful, for sure, I thought it would be
My life would be changed to Cincinnati
A fresh batch of riders hop on later
“Son, do you know about your creator?”
Asked a mustached man to my left
Said he was a man of God… and of theft!
Preached a great message – I try not to yawn
He leaves at 12-A. My wallet is gone.
Can’t get much worse, I think. Man I was wrong!
I meet some more strangers before long
A tanned teen in jeans walks up to me
He looks like straight off the Shores of Jersey
“Hey there, brah, can I borrow a dollar?”
My money’s gone. Wish I were taller.
He ceased my suitcase with all my clothes
I’ll get along without those I suppose
My day had reached the peak of perfection
(Note the sarcasm in my inflection)
So just when I pick up a piece of trash
A real cute girl with braids just has to ask
“Heard of Greenpeace? Environment’s at war!”
Now I eat roots and berries with the corps
My advice to you, all you kids back home,
Don’t talk to strangers and don’t sit alone!
- Megan H.
Poem #4
Senioritis
There was a girl who was not yet eighteen.
She was running on a lot of caffeine.
The Infinite Campus was her homepage,
A B would cause her parents utter rage.
The girl wanted to be Ivy League.
It was senior year, filled with fatigue.
So came her final senior semester--
No! It was even the last trimester!
All of her grades were completely in line,
This was her time to completely shine.
Her English grade was borderline this time,
And it boiled down to this single rhyme.
She sat down at her desk, with a chalic,
One cannot ehlp but say she was malice.
But the poem could not quote be witten!
Her and her senioritis were smitten!
She facebook stalked people all night long,
and downloaded songs without copyright.
Youtube claimed her: innocent victim.
Her friends? The girl skyped all of them.
She tweeted just about a dozen times,
Let's just say she did not write any rhymes.
The girl had fallen asleep before ten,
She had not lifted even an ink pen.
Harvard? Yale? Would not be content with this.
Her A in English? She would come to miss.
The studious girl turned in onthing.
She was confined to a minimum wage.
Flipping burgers, working the dull drive through,
All of this common work was for her too.
Her school transcripts had been blemished,
All dreams of acceptance were all finished.
The admissions would laugh hysterically,
And she would live a life of scarcity.
The letters came: success zero percent.
An utter failure: to the streets she went.
The poor girl, well now she lives in a box.
You know, in the alley, down by the docks?
All of this was due to senioritis,
A disease much worse than hepatitis.
She had thought it had been all set in stone,
But now she is stuck living all alone--
Well besides that cat with the lazy eye,
And now she just watches the passer-bye.
-Steph & Julie
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