Slam Group Poem
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Volume 44 ~ 2022
The month when fitness programs plant the idea
that your brand new year can be productive and exciting,
when in reality, it’s pretty bleak and boring.
December’s leftover snow is now useless,
coating every street, sidewalk, and sky
with the same shade of silver.
Commuting cars and old school buses trudge on
to create temporary breaks in the slush
as they return from holiday to hustle
Tears run down my face some Februarys.
Not because I don’t have love,
But because the groundhog saw his shadow.
Six more weeks of it being -20 out.
But with the cold comes
Late night movies, curled up on the couch.
Or hours spent talking about this and that.
As we say goodbye to the cold winter months,
Snowflakes caress our interlocked hands.
Empowered by history.
The history of women,
Of the deaf,
Of the many different languages
Our small world brings.
Optimism for your Irish heritage.
For your craftsmanship.
For our small world.
And amongst this optimism
There is stress.
Stress to find that prom date,
To apply for scholarships,
To eat all the sweets in one sitting.
As we march along this narrow path,
We choose to lead with optimism or the stress.
Whether you have empowered yourself with history,
Or stressed yourself over money,
Just stay marching on the narrow path,
For that narrow path
Is all thirty-one days of March.
The month of cloudy skies and sixty-degree weather
As winter’s grip loosens and faint traces of spring blush.
Peeling sweatshirts off clammy skin
Only to wiggle back in when goosebumps prickle.
The promise of summer tentatively drifts from mouth to mouth
And the weary scholars’ minds take a final stand.
hearing a gentle knock on the door,
i see a small basket on the floor,
filled with treats,
some salty, some sweet,
this is a symbol of summer,
oh how i wonder what i may discover.
When the Summer Sun arises
And sets our skin ablaze
Shady parking would be wisest
To watch the town parades
When the Summer Sun blisters
And we need a quick escape
We race off to the campsites
Take a dip into the lake
When the Summer Sun descends
And the stars come out to play
We wait for flashing friends
And watch their bright display
When the Summer Sun slumbers
And the air is cool once more
A bonfire dances in the dark
To roast our gooey s'mores
When the Summer Sun awakes
And we start to wish for winter
We forget the dreams of sweet summer suns
When the Summer Sun is bitter
By now, the summer days are normal
And we learn to slow down every day
Our parents tell us what to do
But we don't listen to what they say!
To the girls, I’ll speak for most of us
We race each other to be tan
Get the schedule for the baseball team
It’s never left out of the plan
Water gun fights and popsicles
Anything to cool us down
In this 100 degree weather
We get bored of our small town
We get back home late at night
Once we’re all done with fireworks,
It's sad to know we only have
One month left to wear our burks
The best of the months
Watermelon filling the mouths of the young
Their innocent faces dripping with the sweet juices of summer fruits
The parents, distraught that they no longer have the free labor day round
Yet relieved to be free of their burden, if just for a couple of hours
The prairie is alive and bursting with the voices of the wildlife it protects
young deer have grown into wonderful does and bucks
cygnet into the beautiful swan
farmers preparing for the stresses of harvest
Readying their equipment, hoping it will last the hardships of farm life
livestock graze on the green fields that dot the landscape
When the sun sets and the noises of everyday life begin to fade
You can hear the mighty bullfrogs croaking their heart away to the harvest moon
And when your favorite month comes to pass
And the children have become accustomed to school life
You find yourself yearning more fun days in the sun
As the cold of fall begins to set in
The second month of the school year began.
Falling brown leaves scatter the decaying lands.
Everything starts to fly like migrating birds.
Constellations and tail lights go by my eyes in a blur.
Friday nights fill with stadium lights,
The score climbs up and faces get bright.
Clashing pads, the cheer squad, and the stands.
Sweater weather and tons of plans.
The grass shows no green
Vanished hues beside fallen leaves
Farmers are harvesting their last bean
It is almost break, one student believes
The weather outside is getting much colder
People are huddled, shoulder-to-shoulder
What we call now is “sweater weather”
A small kitten lets out a warming purr
On the ground, a turkey feather
Finally, it is October.
When the Sun goes down earlier,
And the evenings get briefer,
For band kids,
Marching band comes to an end,
The cold weather makes me miss the California sand.
When November 1st hits,
Their Christmas spirit bursts,
With occasional snowfall,
Some may curse,
Wishing for the warm weather of summer,
To show up at their front door.
When men and women hunt for turkey,
My grandfather’s hunger makes him act jerky,
The gathering of families,
A time to give thanks,
The amount of joy food brings,
Thanksgiving is one of the many things,
That makes November great.
The month when the cold sets in and sometimes stays
When little children squeal as they slide down a snow covered hill in a joyful haze
Our town is covered in vivid lights all of the sudden
Tacky Hallmark movies are made by the dozen
Families come together for all sorts of reasons
People of all kinds celebrate the holiday of their region
When hot coco is king
And Salvation Army bells ring
We think about the past
Praying the future doesn’t come too fast
Contributors in the order in which they appear: