Featured YOuth POetry

A poem by Bernice Z., a fifth grader

 If dogs could talk,
they would rule the world!
Leaning over their bedroom balconies,
declaring speeches to the world below.

Ah! This is the life!
Sitting on his bone shaped throne,
Your king sits tall and proud,
one paw crossed over the other,
sitting on the dark-red-bone-patterned cushion.

When your majesty is having fun,
sometimes he has to go,
with his potty-nanny to his private yard.
Once he is done,
the nanny shall pick up his doo.

I know, I know
this may sound bad,
but do not fret,
Your king is not bad,
for he is a kind and loving ruler.
Kind to all (except to the squirrels).  

A poem by Bernice Z., a fifth grader

 If dogs could talk,
they would rule the world,
but don't get me wrong,
ruling the world is hard work for sure.
They gotta eat every day.

Bones, steak, meatballs galore,
After you eat there is always more.
Made by the wonderful staff
under the curtains you will see,
what a gorgeous place the kitchen can be.

The kitchen carries a bunch of white walls,
outlining the yummy, yummy kitchen
mini roasted brown steaks,
printed on the walls,
looking good enough to eat,
every
single
day

When the food is ready,
the chefs call,
"Hurry! The king is waiting!"
The cat-waiters then pick up the loads and loads of food.
They bring it out to the king and hear him shout,
"MmMmMmM, that is some good stuff!"

Do not worry,
your king will not become fat
with all this food
because each day,
after lunch,
he goes for a walk
with his poo-poo nanny.

A poem by Bernice Z., a fifth grader

I’m sure you have heard,
Of a great king’s enemies.
The same is here,
In the great dog kingdom.

I know I said earlier
That your king is a kind and loving ruler,
But these enemies are enemy spies,
Here to steal secrets about your kingdom,
And reveal them to the world.
Your kingdom will then be,
The talk of the world.
And you will live
In misery,
And pain!

You will be treated,
As slaves once were.
And just for some laughs,
A shot or two
From the vet.
They will watch you scream
And wriggle around
While the scared-for-his-life vet
Pokes your rump.
In goes the injection,
Nothing really harmless,
But if the king is unhappy,
He may or may not kill you.

Though that may happen very less,
If it does happen to you,
Do not stress.
It will be over soon,
Or try to please the king,
For if you can,
He will spare you,
And perhaps will treat you well.

So think.
If you were to be killed by an injection,
What qualities do you have that could make the king spare you?
Are you funny?
You can be a jester!
Are you a baker?
You can become a cook!
Are you beautiful?
Become the queen!
Are you pitiful?
Then you might be released!
There is more, of course there is!
But don’t say I didn’t warn you.
The king does have enemies!