This is the poems section of my page... 

These two poems were emailed to me and I was told to pass them on to

everybody, especially teenagers. They are very sad.

THE CLASS RING

Close to the door

he paused to stand

as he took his class ring

off her hand

all who were watching

did not speak as a silent tear

ran down his cheek

and through his mind

the memories ran

of the moments they walked

and laughed in the sand

but now her eyes were so terrible cold

for he would never again

have her to hold

they watched in silence

as he bent near

and whispered the words......

"I LOVE YOU" in her ear

he touched her face and started to cry

as he put on his ring and wanted to die

and just then the wind began to blow

as they lowered her casket

into the snow....

this is what happens

to man alive......

.....when friends let friends.....

drink and drive.

"Mommy"

Johnny brought a gun to school,

He told his friends that it was cool,

And when he pulled the trigger back,

It shot with a great crack.

Mommy, I was a good girl, I did

what I was told,

I went to school, I got straight As',

I even got the gold!

But Mommy, when I went to school that day,

I never said goodbye,

I'm sorry Mommy, I had to go,

But Mommy, please don't cry.

When Johnny shot the gun,

He hit me and another,

And all because Johnny,

Got the gun from his older brother.

Mommy, please tell Daddy;

That I love him very much,

And please tell Chris; my boyfriend;

That it wasn't just a crush.

And tell my little sister;

That she is the only now,

And tell my dear sweet Grandmother;

I'll be waiting for her now,

And tell my wonderful friends;

That they always were the best,

Mommy, I'm not the first,

I'm no better then the rest.

Mommy, tell my teachers;

I won't show up for class,

And never to forget this,

And please don't let this pass.

Mommy, why'd it have to be me?

No one deserves this,

Mommy, warn the others,

Mommy, I left without a kiss.

And Mommy, tell the doctors;

I know they really did try,

I think I even saw a doctor,

Trying not to cry.

Mommy, I'm slowly dying,

With a bullet in my chest,

But Mommy, please remember,

I'm in heaven with the rest.

Mommy, I ran as fast as I could,

When I heard that crack,

Mommy, listen to me if you would,

I'm not coming back.

I wanted to go to college,

I wanted to try things that were new,

I guess I'm not going with Daddy;

On that trip to the new zoo.

I wanted to get married,

I wanted to have a kid,

I wanted to be an actress,

Mommy, I wanted to live.

But Mommy, I'm must go now,

The time is getting late,

Mommy tell my boyfriend,

I'm sorry, but I had to cancel the date.

I love you Mommy, I always have,

I know; you know it's true,

And Mommy all I wanted to say is,

"Mommy, I love you"

The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Phenomenal Woman

Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size

But when I start to tell them,

They think I'm telling lies.

I say,

It's in the reach of my arms

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.

I say,

It's the fire in my eyes,

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing in my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can't touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them

They say they still can't see.

I say,

It's the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

Now you understand

Just why my head's not bowed.

I don't shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It's in the click of my heels,

The bend of my hair,

the palm of my hand,

The need of my care.

'Cause I'm a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That's me.

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps on the back of the wind

and floats downstream till the current ends

and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage

can seldom see through his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill

of things unknown but longed for still

and his tune is heard on the distant hill

for the caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze

and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his

own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill

of things unknown but longed for still

and his tune is heard on the distant hill

for the caged bird sings of freedom.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.