Monday, May 12, 2008


Tonight we began reading, Things I Have to Tell You: Poem and Writing by Teenage Girls edited by Betsy Franco. Two of the young women wrote about secrets. Elisha Branch wrote a poem about how our ancestors tried to change the world while many of us we sit by and do little good.

by Natalie Branch

My life is ruled by the weight of untold secrets.
I have them, you have them, we all have them.
My mom says all secrets are brought out eventually.
But it’s the ones we cannot imagine that scare me.
Past secrets, family secrets, future secrets.
What scares me most is you never know when
It’s gong to hit you or what it is.
You know the saying, “Every day you learn something new”?
Well, that’s true.
I could wake up tomorrow and find out my mom isn’t my mom or my dad isn’t my dad.
Don’t get me wrong.
There are good secrets and there are bad ones.
Secrets can either make you or break you,
but it’s up to you where those secrets are going to take you.

My Secrets
by Rachel Coney

I have a secret
That I’m afraid to tell
Cause I’m afraid that God will hear me.
And send me to hell.

I know it’s really bad to keep
A secret bottled up inside.
But for my own good
It’s the only place it can hide.

I bear, I bang, because I need to tell.
But if I would be half dead somewhere
screaming for help.

So I run away with my secret hidden inside.
And hoping that I would find
someone who really cares
and don’t ask why.

by Elisha Branch

They were committed, passionate and faithful.
And now we’re acting ungrateful.
They have all traveled and fought
and now we can’t even listen to the lesson we’re being taught.
They trip and tramp
and they dodge and duck
and now people are killing each other
just for a simple buck
They worked very hard to try to make progress
and now we have criminals running for congress.
They spread the word and had freedom in their clutches
and it’s getting destroyed, torn down by pitch forks and torches.

Monday, May 5, 2008

Dear Mr. President

Tonight we listened to Pink's song, Dear Mr. President. The girls write their own letters and poems to President Bush.

Dear Mr. President
by Deanna Branch

War is an act of violence
Like killing each other makes us strong.
War is useless
Nothing follows in its tracks.
War is a remembrance
The rattles all placed on a map.
War is ignorance
People dying without a cause.
Peace sustains life
War ends life.
War is pain.
A son’s blood stains his mother’s tears.
Be the one to catch her tear drops.

Deanna Branch

Dear Mr. President
by Natalie Branch

Dear Mr. President, listen to me.
(Don’t talk. Just listen.)
This isn’t a song. It’s the truth.
Since your election, poverty rates went up.
Since your election, food stamps are harder to get.
Since you election, Reading Is Fundamental has been taken away.
Can you tell me why?
(Shut up.)
Why are we still in Iraq?
Why has gas and dairy product prices gone through the roof?
How many men and women must die for you to get it?
Do you even care?
(No you don’t.)
Once you’re gone, less people will be in poverty.
Once you’re gone, food stamps will come easy.
Once you’re gone, Reading is Fundamental will come back.
Once you’re gone, the war in Iraq will end.
Once you’re gone, gas and dairy prices will go down.
Once you’re gone, no more soldiers will die.
Are you happy?
(I am.)

Dear Mr. President
by Elisha Branch

I’m writing to the president.
But I’m not Pink.
I’m going to write something here
to make you think
I know I’m really young
and haven’t been to many places.
But I have seen a lot
of really sad faces.
I know I am not a saint.
And I am not perfect.
But killing over oil
isn’t really worth it.
There are plenty of children
left behind,
And one happy child
I cannot find.
America is not great.
We’re not even close
And I am just writing
‘Cause I thought you should know.

Dear President Bush
by Brittene Harden

If you even can take time out of your busy and so-called hard life and work and being guarded by your secret service, I have some words to tell, some questions to ask you, and some tears to shed for you. The question I need to ask you is that do you think anyone would get shot or die at a young age if they had the same secret service as you do? Do you think that we would have so many children learning about violence if you didn’t have a war on the east of the earth? Do you even care about us and what we feel? Do you know that we have babies going to bed hungry and their mother’s crying because her baby hasn’t eaten in two days and she hasn’t in four? What type of stuff is that?

Do you know that God has put you in the position for a reason and if you don’t accomplish it, he will take it away as fast as he gave it to you? As I write this I cry. Don’t you see the tear stains on the paper?

When you say my people in your speeches, are you talking about all your people? Why did you raise the prices of gas and rice? How would you feel if you were a mother holding your son and the pool of his blood in your hands? Have your daughters ever gotten a beating for not bringing theirlunch money to a bully? As I leave you here to think about this letter and maybe even cry, my name is Brittene and I should not die.