I Spy - by kelly ann

My window is my glass.
My magnifying looking half-full glass. The glass window that shows
The World
My World
My World as The World.
When it rains for days,
My world mixes in gold-flecked daisies with those raindrops.
When the apple tree blossoms,
My quilted tree next to it pushes out kites of gingham and calico.
When the rabbits in the field next to the apple tree frolic,
My long-legged starfish perch under the quilted tree,
Stretching their legs to reach the rabbits’ passing feet.
When the boys next door chase the rabbits in the field next to the apple tree,
My fantastically oversized frog lies in wait for those boys-
Cage in hand, ready to capture those pink plundering punks and bring them back to his pad.
My windowpane separates My World from The World.
Sometimes combining the two worlds as one
Making it hard to tell the real from the more real.
Which is which?
I spy what I spy not what I see.
Which is just the way I like it.
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Poem By: Kelly Ann
Photo By: beetlebailey75

Dana’s “Senior Will” 2005

Kelly Ann – I’m going to “will” (whatever that means) you that one guy that we saw at Disney Land who made our heads bonk and got ice cream on our faces. I “will” you the sport of trash can mauling as our new sport. I “will” you all the crazy raccoons in my backyard who stop yelping when we turn on the lights. I “will” you the rights to watch The Phantom of the Opera with me while I play with the umbrella in an echoy hall and it breaks and sounds really loud (that sounded intelligent). I “will” you speed walking in the mall while walking with Rybran. I “will” you those crazy stories in our books and all those crazy movies we love watching, such as: Wonder Woman (original), Footloose (mosquito), Breakfast Club (you're a neo maxi zoom dweebie ), Wolf Man (scream), The Severed Arm (no blood), That Crazy Christmas Movie (elves with eye shadow), Donnie Darko (smurfs), and last but not lease … The 7 Lucky Ninjas (Your _! Your wearing no __!!! **crazy music sounds**). I “will” you all the dancing in the rain and hide & seek in the dark as long as you want! I don’t will you those killer hidding spots of mine (on top of the fridge and the Christmas tree box). I will you all the ice cream with moose tracks as you want and that one time that we were trying to eat ice cream in secret (like 3 yrs ago) and the ice cream fell off the spoon like 5 times but we ate it anyway. I “will” you all the shark videos ever made except Open Water…that movie should burn. I “will” you all the weed sharks and dead people in lakes all around the world. I “will” you my dad with his video camera footage of huge tall trees, one huge ant and some random ducks. I “will” you my mom who tried to kill us with 100lb’s of peanut butter. I “will” you the A sides tennis courts too. I “will” you a lot of sharpies and a lot of encouragement cards that counted down to Disney Land. I “will” you unlimited candles during Valentine’s Day dinners. I “will” you the snap peas and lighter for much coughing fun. I “will” you all the blue gummies in the gummy snack pouches. I “will” you new feet when you have frozen yours off by walking in the snow to much watching Jeff kill himself down that hill. I “will” you all the stares and mattresses that can make the perfect slide. I “will” you all the Spanish sitcoms that we can voice for, and Damian. I “will” you many monkey noises in the middle of the night out the window. I “will” you all the hider trees that have the potential of hiding kidnappers from view so that my mom could yell at us to be careful. I “will” you that guy who was outside our window at Bass Lake who climbed over that fence into the field of weeds. PORK MOTHA, ANGEL MOTHA! I “will” you Rybran’s laugh and our lil FOP. I “will” you that crazy guy in hot topic that seems to always be there when we are. I “will” you all the cat toys that hang from the ceiling and all the fishing fish that you can brand on the bathroom light. I “will” you the short ghost at the Haunted Mansion and Bamboo (Balloo). I “will” you that guy who said “FO FO FO” at Disney Land. I “will” you Organic Lima Bean Juice and those lil asian crackers my mom ate all the time when we were at Bass Lake that we used in that food fight we had in the living room. I “will” you all the debree we found in the lake and Rybran’s intelligent look. I “will” you the restaurant, El Sid and unlimited hot chocolate with Mexican and humming birds. I “will” you Lambert the sheepish lion. And last but not least, I “will” you my love forever and always!!!!

Jon Wat – I first “will” you that porcupine noise on my computer. I “will” you my right arm so you can keep up above my heart (so I won’t die) and so that you can poke my funny bone. I “will” you many crazy laughs while lying on your back in an ice skating rink place. I “will” you as many special notes as I can pass. If I had a wombat, I would will it to you. I “will” you “SCRATCH! CHICKEN SCRATCH!!!” I “will” you 17 e-mails on your next birthday. I “will” you the Mike Catching Net, so you can catch him anytime you want. I “will” you my family room floor, my trampoline and my swing. I “will” you as many back itchings as you want. I “will” you the sun, so you can be tan forever. I “will” you unlimited wining, when that someone is gone. I “will” you to watch the whole Band of Brothers without interruption. I “will” you 1,000 black mice just because. I “will” you all the time in the world and last of all, I “will” you my heart and soul.

Katie Good – I “will” you my love! Forever! I love you Katie Good!

Garcia – I “will” you a green cat named Wilber. I “will” you any CD’s that’s I have that you want. I “will” you a zebra, who is scared of the dark and can’t take showers due to a hoof infection that cannot be exposed to water and he only can drink organic savanna grass juice from the Savanna Squeez Smoothies and Fresh Juice Shop.

Megan Kamp – I “will” you all my love and fun memories we have shared since 7^th grade.

(wow - good times)

Hunger

My tummy is getting empty now
I haven’t eaten since 12pm today
I will not eat again until 7pm tomorrow

I know what it feels like to be full
I know what it feels like to be sick because I am to full
I know what it feels like to not want food because I am full

I can get food when ever I want to
If I don’t like what we have at home
I hop in my car and go buy something I want
No bacteria, no worries of getting sick from it

They have never been full
They don’t know what if feels like

They’re tummies are empty every day
Crying themselves to sleep because it hurts
They are weak and diseased
They don’t stand a chance 

They will not make it if they don’t eat
Most of them don’t make it at all
Never knowing what it feels like to be full
Never knowing what its like to be strong
Never knowing what its like to be full for one day

But there is hope
World Vision


photo from HERE

Not Worth Reading

teal dew moistens the willow feathers
as the lily froth ooze footprints of poison.
wet thrashing suspense in a navy red box
whispers dragon fire, curling in wisps.
timid blades swindle at the zenith

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picture from HERE

Brother

Strong like venom,

from a cobra to the eyes.

Stressed like the beams,
of an old ancient building.

Growing lines of experience,
like the cracks in a brick fire place.

Stern as a grand father clock.

No sleep, only hibernation,
as a bear waiting for spring.

Quiet as a dying moth,
in inky darkness.

Crooked front tooth,
like a coble stone out of place.

Scarred face that remembers,
friction from the pavement.

Polished,
a new gold metal.

Lazy barn owl gazing,
at you from the rafters.

Crazy like the white foam,
that dances out of reach of the swift river.

Tired, weathered,
like an old boat.

Proud, tall
the mountain puma.

Random

The moon, broken off like an arctic glacier plummeting into the cold blue

A red flower, brilliant as the burning embers of a dying fire

Her fingers, delicate as thinly spun sugar

The island stretches out from the coast
like a giraffe kneeling to drink

Your backbone ridged like randomly placed river rocks on the shore

Soft as the sound of a wasp walking on a window pane

That bicyclist, careening downhill like a hawk dive-bombing for its next victim

Crazy bird! Its song like the lightning that illuminates the summer night sky

His monotonous voice like the steady marching of the soldiers

She spun off like a fly, its wings violently plucked from its body

Days pass like the golden wheat grows in the amber fields

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photo from HERE

Elephants

The long legs that stretch to the heavens like the cattails by the river.

The knees, large as wheelbarrows riding up mountains with gray stone in them.

Ears that flap in the wind like sails of a pirate ship, tattered and warn.

Sharp and weathered, drooping from the skull, like stiff ribbon on a package, tusks.

Like broken charcoal, tents jut from the old rounded backs and point to the blackness above.

Trunks that extend to the skies with curled tips like grape vines.

The sky burns red like the eyes of a panther.
The clouds, cold and dark like the black death.

Random

Rushing past the yellow corn, tears escaping my eye corners
Thrashing through the fire that licks salt less tears dry
Dragon colors flash in my head
Voices scream with silence that make my ears bleed and my head pound
Daydreams fade away into the fields of clover
Footprints melt the stone and leave memories in my mind Ocean creatures retreat into the depths
Froth suffocates the eyes of a mother
Red sounds her cry of sorrow
Secrets that will never be told
The lily blooms with the call of the Dragon
Hushed and hurries are the many Voices
There are many who Daydream
But few that have memory Footprints
Stinging colors spring a crossed the Ocean
Shrill cries drip Froth
The round train tracks blaze Red
Scattered a cross the dirt are untold Secrets

Night Street

the glow of lights were absent
the street was calm.

rain was falling like little pink worms
with camouflage parachutes.
extended yielding moist.

the sky showed no vibrant color
it was in black and white,
like sticking your head in the ocean
and opening your eyes
to see the blackness of the deep ripples.
the long fingers touching the inside of your eyes,
that makes you open your eyes wider,
even though the salt stings deep inside.

the tree by the faded blue gate.
old and decayed like my grandfather.
bark flaking off like diseased skin.
leaves growing thinner like silver hair.
parasites crawl in and out like cancer
never leaving.
there, only to kill.
alone with no one to take care of it,
discarded and forgotten like a butterfly
whose wings had been touched.
helpless.

the smell of clean wet exhaust up
from the black street.
the street that shows no blemish.
the hot smell fills the air like
a carnival fills the air with sound.
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I found this photo on www.flickr.com and i really liked it and thought it would go well. even though its not anything close to what is in my poem. this is who's photo this is - CLICK

The Cat

The cat sings songs of birds in cages
As he dances around the bed,

The song brought down from many ages
When he was a kitten they filled his head;

The lights were out and the streets were calm
Dust danced along the sill,

The song flowed like a psalm
And the room stood oh so still;

The cat then stopped his little song
He stared out the window pane,

He had been singing all night long
His eyes blazed bright with flame

He turned to curl up in his little bed
To sing no more for he was dead.

The City

The sky is a giant pearl that shines with different colored light

The street reflects the sky like the refection of yourself when you swim underwater upside-down

The caterpillar cars line the street in perfect proportion with fuzzy light gleaming off the windows

The buildings are like dead pine trees, hollowed out for its parasites to live

A pothole in the street turns into a silver dollar, the vents are cheese graders belching stream

The street lamps are dinosaurs craning their necks to soak up the last bit of delicious sun light

A lost dog wonders the street like an airplane searching for survivors

Trees, green and feeble, suck the bitter air for any last bit of strength

Birds are brightly colored confetti falling from the sky with violent grace and purpose