A poem about a guy named Reuban

Reuban was a kid in one of my classes in 7th grade. He was pretty non-descript, wasn't particularly cute or interesting, but I was really intrigued by a guy who was named after a sandwich. So I wrote a poem in his honor!

Reuban

Reuban oh Reuban, what did you do?
Your poured guacamole into my shoe!
You kicked a chicken nugget into the tub
You gave a giraffe a belly rub

You pickeled asparagus, carrots, and cheese
You opened your mouth and out came a sneeze
You bought a ferrari, it was maroon
But then you drove it through the wall of my room

Reuban oh Reuban, why, tell me why?
Did you throw some baloney into the sky?
It bounced off a cloud and fell in a pit
I'm beginning to think you are a nit wit

You stepped on an ostrich that fell on the ground
You had a gold fish and named it Sir Zound
Reuban oh Reuban, where did you go?
Was it Berlin or New Mexico?

Reuban oh Reuban, you puzzle me so.

Not actually the subject of this poem.

If I had actually been friends with Reuban, I might have showed him this and he might have liked it. Or he might have been creeped out. It's a moot point, because I don't think I had ever actually talked to the kid. I don't even know what his last name was! And I think he disappeared sometime after middle school, probably to Berlin or New Mexico. But it's a cute tribute, and it's a shame he will never see it!

"Darkness is like a dark shadow"

In what was obviously a particularly profound moment in my youth, I wrote this poem:

Darkness

What is darkness?
Darkness is no light.
Darkness is like a dark shadow being cast over you.
It is not knowing what to do.
That is darkness.
Darkness is cruelty.
It is a strange creatures taking away your freedom.
That is darkness.

I wonder what was going on in my life to inspire this poem? As I've previously stated, I don't recall my early adolescence being that tortured. But I suppose this is a reminder that we all experience....the darkness!

New Guest Blogger: Too good to wait...

My new friend Isaac offered to share some of his teenage poetry and it's pretty amazing. Certainly lives up to the standards held on this blog for embarrassing adolescent versification. He has graciously shared many, many fine poems, which will be revealed here over time, but for his first guest post, I have to go with the one that made me laugh the most.

Untitled (by Isaac)

I once met a clown with a button red nose
Who said I'd meet a girl with a face like a rose
I snapped his suspenders and went on my way
All the while chuckling and saying "That'll be the day"

Well old clownypoo had a bit too much seltzer
And chased me down with his giant feet of thunder
"She'll have eyes like diamonds" he said with a start
I replied "Not freakin' likely, you senile old fart"

But the polka-dotted pauper, well he was persistent
And nipping at my heels he was in an instant
"She'll make you smile every time she talks"
I thought he'd had too many whiskeys on the rocks

So onward I went with speed, but so too did he
"She'll lump your throat and weaken your knees"
Trying to act macho, I said no woman could do that
He smirked and said "She will in two seconds flat"

So I asked old clowny how he knew so much
"I guess I was born with a magic touch"
I said "If you're so great, why've you got this job?"
He replied "My girl came and went, and now I'm a slob"

The regret in his eyes told me that it was true
So I bought us some coffee and a table for two
And the man laid it on me, a tale so somber
His empty-hearted words stay with me forever

"I had my chance and was too blind to see
I feared she loved another, and gave up easily
Don't do the same, my reluctant companion
'Cause that girl, I tell you, will be one in a million"

Now this young clown would like to say
He knows just what the old guy meant that day
Be my girl, make my knees weak
And let me smile every time you speak

Man, what I would have done to have access to the intimate inner-workings of the male teenage mind when I was in middle/high school. Thanks Isaac, for finally satisfying my curiosities!

Guest Post: Guacamole Highway

Ok, this next poem is by Guest Blogger Genevieve. It's also about food. And it's a song! Sung to "Every Day is a Winding Road" by Sheryl Crow. And here it is:

Cruisin' on the Guacamole Highway

I've often driven down that guacamole highway
Those guacamole fishes give me a smile
I got behind their guacamole school bus
And we were driving for quite a while
Eat those corn chips
Look up, and smile at the fish
All the fishies are high
All the fishies are low
I can't say more, 'cause that's all I know
Every road is a guacamole road
Drive a little bit faster.
Every watch says a guacamole time
Drive a little bit faster,
We're feelin' fine.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, I had another weird obsession in 7th grade. It was with guacamole fish. Yes, guacamole fish. I don't even know what that means at this point, but apparently, when I was 12, I thought the idea of a fish made out of guacamole was all the rage. Whatever, I was a weird kid. But at least I wasn't alone in my weirdness; thank god for a friend who would write songs about guacamole fish with me.

Happy O-naugeration Day!

In honor of this momentous, historic day, I share with you this little piece, a strong statement on foreign affairs:

The Attack

Why is it such a cruel world
That we all can't get along?
Nuclear weapons, missles too
Their effects are just so strong

Innocent people are dying
At the expense of one sick man
In the country of Iraq
Which is neighbors with Iran

What's with all the violence
Why the blood and gore?
First the bombing, then what's next?
Perhaps another war?

Maybe it's the only way
To stop Saddam Hussein
A man who won't cooperate
And is perhaps a bit insane

The attacks are for a reason
This I know is true
I just wish there was something else
Then violence we could do

Maybe I should lend this to President Barack Obama to help him figure out how to smooth other the various foreign wars and kersnuffles we're currently dealing with. I'm sure he'd find it pretty useful.

On a lighter note

For those who need a respite from the lovesick poems of late, here's a fun little rhyming one, in honor of my friend Olivia, who lives in New York, and of Ryan, who was just in New York.

The Emu That Went to New York

Did you hear the tale of the emu that went to New York?
Or how 'bout the giraffe that ate salted pork?
Or the zebra the sneezed
And ate glowing cheese
Or the warthog that ate with a fork?

But emus don't travel, so this can't be true.
The giraffe part's a lie, just like the emu
Zebras don't sneeze
Or eat glowing cheese
And warthogs just fart a lot. Pew!

Awww, it's two limericks back to back in what makes for a very cute poem. I approve, 12 year-old-Julia!

Guest Blogger: A Treatise on "The Crush"

Genny is back and better than ever with another guest blog post. For those of you wanting a little more background on just who this guest blogger is, read on:

Genevieve began her poetry career at the wee age of 11 when she was better known as "Baloney." Since then she has obviously escalated to bigger and better things in life, and these days she's pretty classy. She attended Washington State University in Pullman where she learned a few things, among those;
1) how to sled down an icy hill in a rubbermaid bucket
2) how to exploit the disability van for rides around campus
3)Don't EVER drink ANYTHING blue.
In her free time she enjoys finger puppets, Phil Collins, swedish fish, and sledding to the 80's, which is similar to sweating to the 80's, but without the sweat.

So with that in mind, put yourself in the shoes of young Genevieve, who so aptly summarized the wistful pining we all expereinced with our first (or second, or twelth) big middle school crush, and I think you'll be able to relate to where she was coming from.

Crush

Have you ever liked someone and wanted to tell them, but you weren't sure that you could? Have you ever wanted them to know it, but weren't sure if they should?
Have you ever felt like there might be something, but decided otherwise?
Have you ever wondered why it was him, instead of one of the other guys?
Have you ever not really understood what made you feel this way?
You know what you want to tell him, but you're waiting for the right day.
You know it really is what you want, but it's so out of your reach,
Why can't it be someone easier?
But maybe the reason it seems complicated, is because there's a lesson to teach.
One I haven't learned yet, but really should.
And even if it doesn't turn out right,

The lesson I learned was good.
I wish that I knew everything, so it would be this way,
I could make it a lot easier, but I wouldn't know what to say.

Why I am liking him seems complicated in my mind.
Maybe it's because I wish for someone who is one of a kind
Who can understand when I need it a lot
Who doesn't have to be super hot
Who likes me for the person inside
And isn't out to "get a free ride"
Who would always respect me through and through
Someone like that would be really cool.
Also hard to find and imitate, but anyone close would be worth the wait.

And Genny adds that this poem is "dedicated to 'Donovan Mitten' (secret nickname for middle school crush) who I last saw sitting on a random porch with everyone else I used to know in high school, drinking keystone light from a can with a broken car parked in the yard."

Hmm, sounds like he might not have been worth the wait.