By special request... :-)

I have been requested to post my earliest attempts at poetry, so I shall oblige, for your amusement.

This is one of my first recorded ones:

My Balloon

I had a balloon
it looked like a loon
it was green
just like a been
but then I let go
Oh no!
and that was the end of my balloon.

Heidi Luimes, age 8, and Carolyn Devisser, age 10.

Here's a few more... I am not sure when I wrote them, sometime between 8-10 probably

School:

Just plain writing a story
It brings you to a world of glory
Just plain writing a word
it brings you to a world unheard
if anyone does not like school
I would sure call him a fool
Now this is meant as a warning
so see you tomorrow morning
at school.*

*This poem does not express the views of the author. :-P

Listen

Listen to the birdies singing
Listen to their songs of joy
Oh what happy songs they're bringing
Listen every girl and boy

Listen to the wind a blowing
Listen to it's rustling sound
Where oh where is it a going
Listen to the world around

I thank my God for making nature
I thank my God for making me
I thank my God for making beauty
All things around that you can see.

And just one more... (though I have a ton... :-P)
I have posted this a long time ago, but it is still one of my all time favorites. I wrote it when I was 11.

Gluttony's Revenge

The bread on the table was very old
It was mostly covered with disgusting mold
The rats came in three by three
and attacked the bread mightily

Beside the bread lay an old rotten bean
More rotten and gross than anyone's seen
Mold on this bean also had grown
But the rats didn't care, this bean was their own!

The rats now had food, at last! at last!
The place was quiet and nobody passed
But because of their gluttony and because of the chill
The rats soon lay down and forever grew still.

2008

a moment ago
the present
now blending in
with miles of history
some days
leaving tiny dots
on it's great expanse
the majority
weaving themselves in
to the blur of nothingness
that shapes our souls.
the lessons learned
the tears shed
the laughter, the pain
the mistakes, the forgiveness
in the ordinary moments
saved for no ones scrapbook
yet firmly embedded into our identity
and carefully carried
by the One
who counts our days
holds our lives
and gives us 525600 times a year
the gift
of another moment.