Submit verses and rhymes to youth poetry slam

Nov 30, 2010 Full story: Sammamish Review

Whether it is a ballad or a sonnet, free style verse or a haiku, the Issaquah Youth Advisory Board is looking for teenagers to write and read their work for a poetry slam.

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“Lottsa Lottsa Luv”

Since: Nov 10

Location hidden

#1 Dec 1, 2010
What a good idea!! YIPPEE!!!

“My life in simple words”

Since: Oct 10

Location hidden

#2 Apr 1, 2011
"TUTORIALS and CHENIN BLANC."

Up on a hill on the third floor, in a dust classroom,
The young professor lectures,
Her slender hands fly around her face, like small wild birds;
They scatter periods, question marks, and exclamations.

She is earnest, this young woman, and as sure as anything.

She wants our class to understand that we can never mean what we inted to,
And if we could we could fix meaning like a butterfly under glass,
We would immediatly lose it.......
The essence of a butterfly being the longing for flight,
Then the fluttering of wings, and the mussing of breezes.

Her words may not be a puzzle to the older woman across town,
Nodding over an album of curling photographs,
Nor to the little girl in cow-girl boots, dragging a teddy-bear,
And digging for worms with a pointed stick.....

Nor to the beautiful, long blonde haired woman who turns in the doorway,
On the sleepy Aintree village road,
And walks back to her young lover,
Unbuttoning her blouse,
And letting her sticky skirt drop to the floor.

~DeVine.

Since: Dec 10

Brisbane, Australia

#3 Apr 1, 2011
Adrain Devine wrote:
"TUTORIALS and CHENIN BLANC."
Up on a hill on the third floor, in a dust classroom,
The young professor lectures,
Her slender hands fly around her face, like small wild birds;
They scatter periods, question marks, and exclamations.
She is earnest, this young woman, and as sure as anything.
She wants our class to understand that we can never mean what we inted to,
And if we could we could fix meaning like a butterfly under glass,
We would immediatly lose it.......
The essence of a butterfly being the longing for flight,
Then the fluttering of wings, and the mussing of breezes.
Her words may not be a puzzle to the older woman across town,
Nodding over an album of curling photographs,
Nor to the little girl in cow-girl boots, dragging a teddy-bear,
And digging for worms with a pointed stick.....
Nor to the beautiful, long blonde haired woman who turns in the doorway,
On the sleepy Aintree village road,
And walks back to her young lover,
Unbuttoning her blouse,
And letting her sticky skirt drop to the floor.
~DeVine.
This poem is titled "In A College Town", and was written by Glenda Zumwalt
http://www.2river.org/2RView/1_2/1_2.pdf

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