"The instructor said,
'Go home and write
A page tonight
And let that page come out of you-
Then it will be true.' "
A biography, poem, yourself
Can sound simple to write until
Pen is brought to paper.
I am 17 going on 18, rational and creative,
Born and bred in Oklahoma.
I have carried the proud tradition of
Starting from Puppy to Dawg to Bulldog.
Traveling to the Big Apple...
But I always miss
Driving past the City Park down Broadway,
Passing Main, Courthouse, Town Square, and
Turning left where there rests a
Little soft bed, in a little purple room,
in a little blue-white house, where
I write my biography, poem, self:
Some say truth lies in facts, but my
Truth lies in what I feel:
Alive: appreciating the sweeter
things in life, surrounded by nature.
Insignificant: gazing at the full
moon, rooted beside the vast ocean.
Larger than life: marching on that football
field under those Friday night
lights, lined up with my high school band.
Where slacking off is okay as long as
You keep up with the horse.
Where you prepare early to prepare ahead.
Where you ask others about their
Opinions, thoughts, moods, criticisms.
I pray for a plan for
College, but will that plan
isolate me from my friends?
I want to love
and be loved, but will I
regret the bed I made
Once I have to lie in it?
I strive for greatness, but will I
lose the good in me?
Although I have the rest of my life for
adventure. mistakes. passion.
For one year, a senior.
And when I look
Back toward Grand Ole A***** High,
I'll remember the highs and lows,
in and out of Room 216.
This is my biography, poem, self for Mrs. P.