| Poems by Krystina
Superbowling Teams of opposition One black One blue Not their jerseys The color of contest Struggling Rain or shine For compensation A pageant of sorts Who’s the strongest Cunning Skills Playing a game Jeopardy A game of blood Sweat Tears Proving who’s the man The one left standing The one holding the trophy Or the small man In the big suit Who holds the most time Air time that is Modern Tragedy A moment in time Violence carries the children The young hold guns The old turn in fear Children kill one another Schools burn Educators are silenced Gangs rule Innocence is lost Anger is placed Disobedience is rampant Respect is gone Love is no longer smitten A world where kindness dwelled Is now harbored by rage
The Canine He is grateful no matter what He does not discourage Will never criticize Instead everyday Greets you with a smile No matter how smart Or dumb you may be His love is given free He eats the food you give With joy Never turning away Or being coy Your acceptance Is all he asks Aiming to please Your every task He greets you daily With a smile Wanting to be by your side Every step of every mile His loyalty will never die He is man best friend A woman's companion to the end
Mother The wind breathes softly Rustling the leaves The flowers wave As if to welcome Spring The sun shines brightly Through blankets of clouds Birds sing in harmony While the fish swim freely In the waters so clear Reflections of wonder Shine from the pools The sands that surround Share the history of the seasons past Mother Earth giving warmth Showing beauty Asking nothing more Than preservation For such a gift as hers
The Roaring Turtle You ignore me Passing by as if I am not there Stepping around me Over me Or just looking past me to avoid eye contact For fear of confrontation Because if you bump into me You actually might have to speak Speak to something you fear Something you do not know Is it the fear of my appearance Fear that I might actually be intelligent Fear that, God forbid, I might even be smarter that You Fear of the unknown Or is it just your own stupidity You boast at how much better you are than those around you What makes you better I am just like you Breathing Eating Sleeping But you do not see me You do not hear me Well listen But you don’t You push me away Separating me From the world you live in So I close up Leaving Going back into my shell Sitting in darkness Waiting For someone Anyone To see who I am To let me To be me
Hot Air He speaks Always running his mouth Talking to those that will listen And even those who won’t He thinks he is a distraction When in reality All he is Is an obstruction With his voice To my eyes With his sight And to my nose With his stench But he keeps on Bellowing Preaching Boasting His words To every passerby Man or woman Young or old Rich or poor He is a balloon Inflated Full of hot air Releasing the pressure The pressure of his words But never popping
The Vomitory Walking alone Watching the shadows Following the footsteps Of those ahead The path is winding Twisting Turning From one dark corridor Into another A haze Awaits Smoke filled air Dark stained wall Floors imprinted With steps of those before Still following Seeking Searching Reaching out Looking for the light
The Consternation Room Anticipation eats at him His stomach twists Turning Causing rupture in his bowls Fear he feels He shudders as he sits in the room Alone in the dark Shadows watch from the windows Wind whistles through the cracks The house swaying slowly As if pieced together by paper Footsteps echo in the hallway Terror bellows beneath the floor Screaming from the basement Shattering from the attic His time is coming They are on their way He looks to escape Sees no out He’s bound Bound by fear Trying to move But he can’t Wanting to run Knowing he will fall Screaming out When all that leaves is silence He is paralyzed Held down Down by his transgressions Awaiting disaster Suffering Condemned to live A torturous life Like that he bestowed so long ago
I am a mix of cultures. My grandmother
is 1/4 Cherokee Indian, but growing up she looked as though she was 3/4
or full. She had beautiful jet black hair and blue eyes and could go outside
to hang the laundry and come back tan. Her great grandfather was full-blood
Indian, his name being Tecumseh. Legend has it, that he was a doctor and
he always wore a white suit and had long black hair. I have seen pictures
and was amazed that I had such great ancestry. But when looking at me,
you do not see the Indian at all. I am a fair skinned auburn haired girl.
I get these features from my grandfather who is Bohemian and from my real
father's side who is German and Scottish. I spoke German fluently as a
child and then lost the language because it was no longer spoken to me.
Being an army brat I travelled a bit as a child and learned the language
when I was in the country. I do recall it being very beautiful and the
people ever so nice.
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