TOUCHING.poems

living4soccer

,Canada

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POEMS

...some cute poems from

Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

She smiled at a sorrowful stranger. The smile seemed to make him feel better. He remembered past kindnesses of a riend and wrote him a thank-you letter. The friend was so pleased with the thank-you that he left a large tip after lunch The waitress, surprised by the size of the tip, bet the whole thing on a hunch. The next day she picked up her winnings, and gave part to a man on the street. That man on the street was grateful; for two days he'd had nothing to eat. After he finished his dinner, he left for his small dingy room. (He didn't know at that moment that he might be facing his doom) On the way he picked up a shivering puppy and took him home to get warm. The puppy was very grateful to be in, out of the storm. That night the house caught on fire. The puppy barked the alarm. He barked 'til he woke the whole household and saved everybody from harm. One of the boys that he rescued grew up to be President. All this because of a simple smile that hadn't cost a cent. -Barbara Hauck, age 13

Smile

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I went to a birthday party but I remembered what you said. You told me not to drink at all, so I had a Sprite instead. I felt proud of myself, the way you said I would, that I didn't choose to drink and drive, though some friends said I should. I knew I made a healthy choice and your advice to me was right as the party finally ended and the kids drove out of sight. I got into my own car, sure to get home in one piece, never knowing what was coming, something I expected least. Now I'm lying on the pavement. I can hear the policeman say, "The kid that caused this wreck was drunk." His voice seems far away. My own blood is all around me as I try hard not to cry. I can hear the paramedic say, "This girl is going to die." I'm sure the guy had no idea, while he was flying high, because he chose to drink and drive that I would have to die. So why do people do it, knowing that it ruins lives? But now the pain is cutting me like a hundred stabbing knives. Tell my sister not to be afraid, tell Daddy to be brave, and when I go to heaven to put "Daddy's Girl" on my grave. Someone should have taught him that it's wrong to drink and drive. Maybe if his mom and dad had, I'd still be alive. My breath is getting shorter, I'm really getting scared. These are my final moments, and I'm so unprepared. I wish that you could hold me, Mom, as I lie here and die. I wish that I could say I love you and good-bye. -Retold by Jane Watkins

Somebody Should Have Taught Him

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Paint Brush

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I keep my paint brush with me Wherever I may go, In case I need to cover up So the real me doesn't show. I'm so afraid to show you me, Afraid of what you'll do- that You might laugh or say mean things. I'm afraid I might lose you. I'd like to remove all my paint coats To show you that real, true me, But I want you to try and understand, I need you to accept what you see. So if you'll be patient and close your eyes, I'll strip off all my coats real slow. Please understand how much it hurts To let the real me show. Now my coats are all stripped off. I feel naked, bare and cold, And if you still love me with all that you see, You are my friend, pure as gold. I need to save my paint brush, though, And hold it in my hand, I want to keep it handy In case somebody doesn't understand. So please protect me, my dear friend And thanks for loving me true, But please let me keep my paint brush with me Until I love me, too. -Bettie B. Youngs