"How He Made Me"
Anonymous
Why should I change myself for you? Am I not
good enough?
Is my hair too dark or too curly? Am I too
tall or fat?
Are my clothes not stylish enough for you?
Or is it simply because I am not like you?
I am myself.
I will not bow, or bend, or succumb to your
views.
I am not a part of your little group of
designer jean-wearing Barbie dolls.
I will stand alone if I have to. I don’t need
to carry a shield against the world.
God made me strong enough. He made me in His
image. Not in yours.
He has made us all in an array of colors, of
flavors. We were not meant to be the same.
The world He made was not meant to be gray,
or black and white.
He made our blood crimson, roses are the
bright red of lust.
He made the sky a hope-inspiring blue, the
seas of the Caribbean a calming turquois.
He made the grass a bright green so after the
dead of winter,
We would see it and know that it is over.
He made us in different colors. Not to
separate us, but to make His world more beautiful and diverse.
I will not let myself be your shield. I can’t
let my true colors hide behind yours.
I am a beautiful person, Shining in my own colors of red strength,
hopeful golden yellow, and tranquil baby blue.
No matter what you say, that I am not good or
pretty or rich enough.
You cannot break me down anymore.
I will let my own colors shine, and go down
my own path.
For you are not my shepherd and I am not your
sheep.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Oobleak Flub”By Gena Lindner
There once was a boy named Oobleak
A little bit different, a little bit shy,
You might even say, unique,
But to his friends he was just a regular guy.
Oobleak had hair that grew to and fro,
Like an uncontrollable vine.
It twisted wherever it wanted to go,
And around his ears it entwined.
He liked to eat cereal mixed with ground worms,
And chopped beetles between his bread.
For desert, a bowl of bumble bee ice-cream,
Or perhaps dragonfly pie instead.
He lived in a beautiful village called Grunge,
Where delightfully different kids go.
All of the streets are made out of sponge,
So if you stumble, you won’t hurt your toe.
Oobleak’s best friend was a boy with no hair.
His head shown as bright as could be.
A beam of light, so brilliant and rare,
It helped all the blind to children see.
One little boy had two big eyes,
both on the back of his head.
While some looked forward for oncoming spies,
He looked for ones behind instead.
One girl’s legs were crippled and weak,
But yet she never did grieve.
Though she may not have been fast on her feet,
With her hands, much was achieved.
There are all kinds of children living in Grunge.
Different sizes, some square and some round,
The kind you and I never may see,
But in Grunge, they all abound.
Each child there has a wonderful gift,
With love and laughter to share.
If one child falls, the other will lift,
Showing each other they care.
Although in the village of Grunge we can’t live,
And never be quite like Oobleak.
But we each have a special gift we can give,
Which makes us all unique.
“I’m an adjunct teacher at Nicolet. I’ve always enjoyed writing and reading poetry starting at a young age. This derived from my mother reading poetry to me as a child because of her love of poetry, and her talent in writing her own poetry as well.”
