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 May 2014 Annie Quill
Poetic T
My eyes a shimmering pool
of hate as I look as you, the
blue waves like a storm in
a tea cup as they splash against
the white of my eyes.

Red on white like lava angrily
scorching at the white of my
eyes, showing the feeling
boiling with in.

I was just innocently walking,
you took my safety away
when you shoved that knife
in to me, all that pain to feed
a habit of destruction, and my
only sin was to walk where your
next fix was, my only sin.

I see you behind a mirror, with
a toothless grin, number 5 I point,
I could never forget you burnt in
to retinas I see you every time its
dark but I will not be weak I will
fight the darkness the fear you
installed with in.

I am a survivor of violence, my only
crime was to be your next victim, but
the tables have turned, and your life
in a cell, freedom taken like you tried
to do to me
He was a young lad and in the fourth grade
Struggling hard for the grades he made.
Everything he tried seemed to vanish in the air
For he could not read and there was no one to care.

The teacher made fun of the young boy’s plight
No compassion, understanding, was ever in sight.
The days were filled with doubt and fear
He was told to repeat grade four next year.

Starting the fourth the second time around
A new school, a new teacher, made his heart pound.
For the world to see, on the card it came
The very first day he had to spell his name.

J - E - E - R - Y came out of the pen
The letters did appear to be correct just then.
The teacher bent close and whispered in his ear
“One E and two R’s, I think you meant dear.”

He fell in love with the teacher that day
She knew his heart and just what to say.
She knew the pain that the young boy felt
And all the embarrassment the past year dealt.

Miss Hagness, the angel, had come to his aid
He sensed her love and was no longer afraid.
Like the gentle Shepherd, reaching down from above
She taught him to read by her affection and love.

He went on to college to prepare for a life
Giving to help others with trouble and strife.
Pastor Jerry’s the Shepherd of many a heart
With love and compassion from the fourth grade did start.



===============================================
Teacher­ Part II
The story told in verse is about my pastor. It is about the struggles of a lad who was ridiculed in school because of a reading disorder called dyslexia. It is about how the system would have let him sink into oblivion but for the personal interest of a young teacher who came into his life the second time he went through the fourth grade. A teacher who had compassion in her heart for the boy and helped him discover the talents that lay hidden deeply within him. The talents that allowed God to develop within him, developed a compassion for others and a giving of himself first as a youth pastor for many years and then for the first time as a senior pastor.

It is also a story of how indifference toward others can lead to destruction of a young mind to the point of total loss of self worth. It is about the deep wounds that can be inflected by the harsh words we speak. Such words can never be retrieved from the abyss of time. How many times do we fail to see or ignore what we see because it does not conveniently fit into our schedule and in the process, contribute in the destruction of a life?

If we are teachers, mentors, leaders, or just breathing, we can share the pain of others to ease their burdens and encourage them in the difficult times. As we share the pain of others, we gain the right to share the joy in their triumphs and successes.

The story came from a message delivered on Sunday morning May 1, 1999. The poem wrote itself from the words spoken in that message. Can we do anything less than what the young teacher did for the boy? As God leads us, let us listen to the still small voice. The voice may be the voice of a child pleading for help, the voice of our Father directing each of us in the path we must travel. Be ever aware of the opportunities that God lays in our path. Maybe just doing only what is required and not seeing beyond ourselves we miss seeing the potential of a young mind. Could this be the greatest disservice we could do to our Father?

Oh God, give me the wisdom to see the promise and potential in others and be led by Your hand in molding the young mind.

It is written, “Though you have done it unto the least of these, you have done it unto me.”
© May 1, 1999
John L. Stevens
 May 2014 Annie Quill
ilina286
You know what?
I am tired
Tired from being sad,stupid,ugly
In the last two years
I destroyed my life in every possible way
I was the best in school
Now I'm nothing
I was skinny
Now I'm not
I'm tired of keeping everything in me
Tired of smiling and acting like I'm having a great time
Acting like i dont care about my problems
But keeping so much inside is making me crazy
When i'm alone i burst
I start to cry and i can't stop
My head is hurting me,i cant breath
Feeling so much,but being so numb
Trying to express myself but i dont have any words
Hurting my self,so i can be calm again.
I cant do this anymore.
 May 2014 Annie Quill
qynce b
I wish humans had
evolved with six fingers so
we would use base twelve.
for the curious:
http://duodecimal.net/archives/duodecimal/duodecimal.html
 May 2014 Annie Quill
qynce b
Their house is filled with
beautiful art, and things her
children claim are art.
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