"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.”
