Here are the winning poems from the Fall Poetry Slam 2006. Congratulations are in order. This is Ben Russin’s second time as champ. And it was the first time that Guadalupe and Penelope even entered the Poetry Slam. Penelope is only the second 6th grader to place in the top three.
The next Slam will be December 15th, 2006.
Get your pencils and pens ready!
Ben Russin
The Puppeteer Named Luck
People are puppets, pulling their own complex strings.
We can make graceful performances, yet
We fumble so easily.
Emotion stains us and when we are hurt,
It’s indented in us forever.
Our faces are just painted on.
Real emotion is rarely expressed
And it’s so damn frustrating!
Trying to pull the right string at the right moment.
Make one wrong move and the show is over
And then you’re thrown in the closet,
Forgotten. And we tried. We tried so hard.
Only living as the memory of people’s detesting.
Some of us are happy.
Some are not.
Sometimes we’re right.
Sometimes we’re wrong.
There is no mercy in this world.
He gives us no mercy.
The puppeteer of all and everything.
I call him luck.
Two Poems by Guadalupe De Los Santos
Family I Never Had
What a happy family but
There’s a trespasser looking through the window.
Nobody notices the shadowy figure.
Four kids, a husband and wife,
Never cared a day in their life,
Laughing and smiling,
Laughing and smiling
Playing family games,
Family nite, dinner all together,
The best experience growing up, ever.
Support at games, competitions, plays or recitals
Family pictures
Christmas dinner
Easter egg hunting
Cooking the turkey for the Thanksgiving dinner
In which they all gather.
Praying and singing.
Having a blast.
It’s getting cold outside,
Getting cozy with each other
It’s raining outside,
Watching movies and the girls playing wih dolls.
It’s hot outside.
The AC on, drinking coolaide.
But how can I possibly know that?
The truth is I’m the trespasser looking through
The window.
***
She’s so sick of the pain,
So sick of this life,
Wishing everyone would just leave her alone
As she sits at night and cries her life away.
Why do they care if she cuts.
It’s not like anyone is there.
But she doesn’t see how much I care
And I am her friend no matter what,
Right to the very end.
I will help her heart mend.
Because I have been there
And I know what it’s like
To just want to die.
Every single night
Wishing to give up this fight
But in the end you realize
It’s not worth the pain
And leaving everyone else with answers unexplained.
Because it don’t matter.
They don’t need to see
Why you are as sad as can be.
They will never understand
But remember I am here
No matter where we stand.
Life does hurt
And things do go wrong
You just have to learn my friend
To always be strong
Because I’ll never leave you
And I’m always here.
Because I love you
And without you,
I wouldn’t be here.
Penelope Abee
Round one
Dear Love,
When will your godly ways shower upon me? Where is
right or wrong? Where is my mom? When will George Bush’s
war on terror kill us all? Where are my two cats that died?
Where is hatred, or is it all around us? Where is organic and
authentic? Where are the 8th graders that graduated last year?
Where are you where is Sid Vicious? Where are the nice old
ladies where, are the hobos? Are you with me in my phone
book on my cell phone next to Ingrid and Guillermo’s name?
Do you like lasagna?
Round two
School Lunch
I looked at it embolded with the pink tentacles considering not to eat it anybody who is everybody starving ate the red potatoes expanding in the right or wrong section in my mind. The treachery of taking the spoon and scooping the demented rat poisoned rice to take the fermented unhealthy chicken and sniffing it in approval of it’s horrible taste .the funk of the milk and the stupid slogans engraved on the carton. Even the spark looks moldy. The pineapple isolated in it’s little pool of syrup. The catsup rotten in its little packet of heat that was packaged by Labor workers in Japan starving for that same school lunch. The outrageous looking carrots Seized by the Spork stabbing into its gut’s. In the amidst of this there is nothing but talk eat savor over the food. I see the 12 year old gulping the sappy orange juice. The kid smart enough to bring his or her own lunch. Yes the bell rings taking me out of this world.
The next Slam will be December 15th, 2006.
Get your pencils and pens ready!
Ben Russin
The Puppeteer Named Luck
People are puppets, pulling their own complex strings.
We can make graceful performances, yet
We fumble so easily.
Emotion stains us and when we are hurt,
It’s indented in us forever.
Our faces are just painted on.
Real emotion is rarely expressed
And it’s so damn frustrating!
Trying to pull the right string at the right moment.
Make one wrong move and the show is over
And then you’re thrown in the closet,
Forgotten. And we tried. We tried so hard.
Only living as the memory of people’s detesting.
Some of us are happy.
Some are not.
Sometimes we’re right.
Sometimes we’re wrong.
There is no mercy in this world.
He gives us no mercy.
The puppeteer of all and everything.
I call him luck.
Two Poems by Guadalupe De Los Santos
Family I Never Had
What a happy family but
There’s a trespasser looking through the window.
Nobody notices the shadowy figure.
Four kids, a husband and wife,
Never cared a day in their life,
Laughing and smiling,
Laughing and smiling
Playing family games,
Family nite, dinner all together,
The best experience growing up, ever.
Support at games, competitions, plays or recitals
Family pictures
Christmas dinner
Easter egg hunting
Cooking the turkey for the Thanksgiving dinner
In which they all gather.
Praying and singing.
Having a blast.
It’s getting cold outside,
Getting cozy with each other
It’s raining outside,
Watching movies and the girls playing wih dolls.
It’s hot outside.
The AC on, drinking coolaide.
But how can I possibly know that?
The truth is I’m the trespasser looking through
The window.
***
She’s so sick of the pain,
So sick of this life,
Wishing everyone would just leave her alone
As she sits at night and cries her life away.
Why do they care if she cuts.
It’s not like anyone is there.
But she doesn’t see how much I care
And I am her friend no matter what,
Right to the very end.
I will help her heart mend.
Because I have been there
And I know what it’s like
To just want to die.
Every single night
Wishing to give up this fight
But in the end you realize
It’s not worth the pain
And leaving everyone else with answers unexplained.
Because it don’t matter.
They don’t need to see
Why you are as sad as can be.
They will never understand
But remember I am here
No matter where we stand.
Life does hurt
And things do go wrong
You just have to learn my friend
To always be strong
Because I’ll never leave you
And I’m always here.
Because I love you
And without you,
I wouldn’t be here.
Penelope Abee
Round one
Dear Love,
When will your godly ways shower upon me? Where is
right or wrong? Where is my mom? When will George Bush’s
war on terror kill us all? Where are my two cats that died?
Where is hatred, or is it all around us? Where is organic and
authentic? Where are the 8th graders that graduated last year?
Where are you where is Sid Vicious? Where are the nice old
ladies where, are the hobos? Are you with me in my phone
book on my cell phone next to Ingrid and Guillermo’s name?
Do you like lasagna?
Round two
School Lunch
I looked at it embolded with the pink tentacles considering not to eat it anybody who is everybody starving ate the red potatoes expanding in the right or wrong section in my mind. The treachery of taking the spoon and scooping the demented rat poisoned rice to take the fermented unhealthy chicken and sniffing it in approval of it’s horrible taste .the funk of the milk and the stupid slogans engraved on the carton. Even the spark looks moldy. The pineapple isolated in it’s little pool of syrup. The catsup rotten in its little packet of heat that was packaged by Labor workers in Japan starving for that same school lunch. The outrageous looking carrots Seized by the Spork stabbing into its gut’s. In the amidst of this there is nothing but talk eat savor over the food. I see the 12 year old gulping the sappy orange juice. The kid smart enough to bring his or her own lunch. Yes the bell rings taking me out of this world.