He Got No One, But His Dog

Old Candy

he got no family

got no one

but his dog.

His old

old

ancient dog.

Who follows him around

Who got no teeth

Who stinks like hell

Carlson wants 'em

he wants 'em

dead.

He's too old, Candy, he says

Too old.

An' so he shot 'im

just like that

Old Candy

he got no family

got no one

but his dog

He had 'im for a long

long

time.

He feeds 'im milk

He herd sheep with 'im

He loves 'im.

And it got shot that day

just like that

Just

like

that.

Old Candy

he got no family

got no one

but is dog

Now he's lyin'

on his bed

wondering why

why

he didn' kill 'im

himself.

SOL: Touched by an Angel

"Alright people," Mr. Bustos commanded," I want you to make a drawing out of these poems I handed out to you."

"Who are these poems by?" Katy asked.

"Maya Angelou!" I said aloud(to myself actually).

Mr. Bustos murmured a "yes" and walked back to his desk.

My poem was called I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, same as Eleanor's, who was seated at my table with Mehr and I. I looked at Mehr's poem title, Alone, and giggled. Mehr made a funny frown face.

"I don't like mine!" she complained.

"Like what?" Eleanor asked, looking up from her sketch.

"This," Mehr showed her the poem. Eleanor giggled too.

"Here," Eleanor said," let me change it," and she went to the table in front of us where Katy, Sara, Stephanie and Daniela sat to trade.

After a few seconds, she came back with a new one, Touched by an Angel. Mehr seemed delighted and we started to sketch. Then out of the blue,"I wonder how you can be touched be an angel?" Mehr said to herself.

Both Eleanor and I looked up and wondered too. Suddenly, Eleanor stood up, made her hands look like wings as she made a halleluyah sound and poked Mehr on the forehead. We all burst into laughter and mimiced what she just did again and again till the bell rang.

Keeping Things to Yourself

I got to say, I don't think I'm good at keeping things to myself; they are bound to just simply slip out of my mouth eventually. Just yesterday, I spoiled the ending of a good book by accidentally telling a friend that someone gets killed in it. And today I leaked a small conversation I had with a friend to somebody,who in turn, asked about it to the friend, and that friend asked why I told her. Pretty confusing, but you kind of get it, right? I kind of feel guilty now that I think about it. And that's not all of it, I think I have forgotten all the other "slipped-out-of-my-mouths" that must have occured in the beginning of the year.

What do you think I should do?

I Got George, An' George Got Me

I like to pet soft things
But sometimes
I pet 'em too hard
And George'll give me hell.
He said he could never get
no peace with me.
And Crooks said George coulda'
went inta town and I won't hear of 'im
no more.
But I know George
I know he wun't leave
me.
I know he wouldn'
Know why?
'Cuz we ain't those guys
who got no family
sittin' and blowin'
their jack in some
bar room
'cuz no one gives a damn 'bout them.
No sir.
I got George
An' George got me
tha's why.
And if I don' give 'im
no hell
George wil' lemme tend
rabbits
those little furry ones
When we live
offa
the fatta land.
And George says tha's
gonna be soon.

Inspired by Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

Grandma's Farm

"Remember the time we stayed at Grandma's farm?" Mom asked from the kitchen as I settled prostrate on the couch turning on the T.V.

"Yeah," I replied impetuously.

"Well, she's selling it," Mom replied slightly agitated at my haughtiness.

I froze in consternation.

"What?" was all that escaped my mouth.

"She's selling it, Lina."

The sounds from the movie on the televiosion screen started to drain in my racing thoughts. Haven't she said we could come back anytime? I pondered. I could picture my cousins, Julie and Carrie, and I plucking berries from her berry bushes, making sounds of revelry as we skipped along the beaten path. I remember putting together bright flowers from Grandma's garden to make garlands for Mom and Dad. I recall the delectable taste of Grandma's bluberry pie made from the berries we picked when we had that lavish dinner at her house on the last day of our stay; everyone, Mom, Dad, Julie and Carrie, Grandma, Uncle Henry and Aunt Trudy(Julie and Carrie's parents) and me, were at the table, our faces lit up with rapture.

"Lina?" Mom's voice cut off my flashbacks, " You okay?"

"Tell her not to sell it, Mom," I beseeched.

"It's not my choice, sweetie. Just feel privileged to have such a gratifying childhood," she strided from the kitchen and hugged me tightly.

I stared at the credits on the screen as she squeezed me. They were appearing and disappearing--changing, like my life starting from now.

Language

I was never great or even good at Chinese; in fact, I was one of the "suckers" in my class. I never had a full grasp on it even when I reviewed it over and over and over again. I never could even speak a correct sentence in Chinese, they were always mixed with English. And during chinese class, when the teacher talks --who by the way always speaks in Chinese no matter what--I just stare into space, doodle, and only understand a quarter of what she was saying.
And there are times where I feel as if I'm a disgrace or something because my chinese is not spot on. It may not mean anything to you, maybe a little, but sometimes knowing a language you are familiar with can go a long way.

Sick.

The room seemed to spin, my head seemed heavy, my eyes sore. I have come down with a cold--intentionally. I wanted to skip school and escape the countless worksheets and boring teacher talks-- but I didn't know my plan would be this miserable! Sitting in front of the fan after a cold, cold shower and falling a little sick was all I had in mind!

I shivered under the many layers of blankets Mom had put for me as she took my temperature. It was near dinner and I could hear the kids outside playing from the open window--that displayed the warmth of the outdoors-- in my now seemingly dull and freezing room.

"Well that's pretty high," she said reaching foreward to feel my scorching forehead.

Her touch made goose bumps run down my spine, I shivered again and snuggled deeper into the sheets. Why is it so warm outside, when I'm cold?

" Thank goodness your Dad's passing the pharmacy," she continued as she went to the bathroom to wash the thermometre," he'll get you some medicine."

I groaned at the shivers and dizziness from my fever.

"You better not get sick again," my Mom said keeping the thermometre back into its case,"you don't want to suffer this much pain, do you?"

No, never again, I thought as I turned to the side and fell asleep.

3WW

Elliot, who was making sounds of revelry in the car, had the privilege of being invited to a lavish dinner by the Queen. He had taken a long time to snap out of his consternation as he prepared to go to the Palace. But with his impetuous attitude he had plucked one of his most undelectable clothing from his wardrobe, not having to ponder as he exited his home.

As Elliot haughtily entered the elegant dining room that had the most carefully carved artworks on the walls, he noticed the Queen's face had turned into a ungratified look. He darted his face to other directions, the same look. Suddenly, Elliot broke into sweat and rushed towards the nearest exit on a whim, leaving the banquet of watchful eyes behind him.

What to Do?

Dad says we're going to leave soon; but he also says we still might stay. I want to go because I'm starting to get bored about school--I want to go somewhere else. But Mom said Dad has to wait for another job to come up, and if it doesn't then we're going to have to stay. I want to stay too, I want to be with my friends I got here. And anyway, school won't get so boring till the new kids come!

I don't know...I don't know what to do. I'm confused, I'm at a cross road, I'm lost. What about you? Have you ever felt this way before?