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    My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

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    My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:16 pm

    Please Listen

    When I ask you to listen to me
    and you start giving me advice,
    you have not done what I asked.
    When I ask you to listen to me
    I shouldn't feel that way,
    you are tramplin on my feelings.
    When I ask you to listen to me
    and you feel you have to do something
    to solve my problem,
    you have failed me,
    strange as that my seem.
    Listen! All I ask is that you listen.
    Don't talk or do--just hear me.
    Advice is cheap; 20 cents will get
    you both Dear Abby and Billy Graham
    in the same newspaper.
    And I can do for myself; I am not helpless.
    Maybe discouraged and faltering,
    but not helpless.
    When you do something for me that I can
    and need to do for myself,
    you contribute to my fear and
    inadequacy.
    But when you accept as a simple fact
    that I feel what I feel,
    no matter how irrational,
    then I can stop trying to convince
    you and get about this business
    of understanding what's behind
    this irrational feeling.
    And when that's clear, the answers are
    obvious and I don't need advice.
    Irrational feelings make sense when
    we understand what's behind them
    Perhaps that's why prayer works, sometimes,
    for some people--because God is mute,
    and he doesn't give advice or try
    to fix things.
    God just listens and lets you work
    it out for yourself.
    So please listen, and just hear me.
    And if you want to talk, wait a minute
    for your turn--and I will listen to you

    Author Unknown


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:16 pm

    My New Best Friend

    Today I met a great new friend
    Who knew me right away
    it was funny how she understood
    All I had to say

    She listened to my problems
    She listened to my dreams
    We talked about love and life
    She'd been there, too, it seems

    I never once felt judged by her
    She knew just how I felt
    She seemed to just accept me
    And all the problems I'd been dealt

    She didn't inderrupt me
    Or need to have her say
    She just listened very patiently
    And didn't go away

    I wanted her to understand
    How much this meant to me
    But as I went to hug her
    Something startled me

    I put my arms in front of me
    And went to pull her nearer
    And realized that my best friend
    Was nothing but a mirror

    Retold by Kimberly Kirberger


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:17 pm

    Mama's Hands

    I saw you hide your hands in line,
    behind that lady fair,
    I noticed too, hers soft and white--
    immaculate from care.
    But Ma, I say, it's no disgrace
    to have workin' hands like you,
    and had she lived the life you have,
    she'd have hands just like it too.

    But her hands have never hauled in wood,
    or worked in God's good earth.
    They've never felt the bitter cold,
    or chopped ice for waitin' stock,
    they've never doctored sick ones,
    or dressed a horse's hock.
    They've nver pulled a hip-locked calf,
    or packed water to the barn
    They've probably never patched blue jeans,
    or had worn ol' socks to darn.

    They've never touched a young-n,
    or caressed a fevered head,
    with hands so gently folded,
    all night beside his bed.

    They've never scrubbed a kitchen floor,
    or done dishes every day.
    They've never guided with those hands
    a child who's lost the way.

    They've never made a Christmas gift,
    shaped by a lovin' hand.
    They've never peeled apples,
    nor vegestables they've canned.
    They've never worn a blister,
    or had calluses to show,
    for all they've done for others,
    and the kindnesses I know.

    So you see, my dearest Mama--
    yours are hands of love.
    And I bet the Lord will notice
    when he greets you from above.

    Tommi Jo Casteel


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:18 pm

    The Bible

    -A young man from a wealthy family was about to grad-
    uate from high school. It was the custom in that affluent
    neighborhood for the parents to give the graduate an
    automobile. Bill and his father had spent months looking
    at cars, and the week before graduation they found the
    perfect car. Bill was certain that the car would be his on
    graduation night.
    -Imagine his disappointment when, on the eve of his
    graduation, Bill's father handed him a gift-wrapped Bible!
    Bill was so angry, he threw the Bible down and stormed
    out of the house. He and his father never saw each other
    again. It was the news of his father's death that brought
    Bill home again.
    -As he sat one night, going through his father's posses-
    sions that he was to inherit, he came across the Bible his
    father had given him. He brushed away the dust and
    opened it to find a cashier's check, dated the day of his
    graduation, in the exact amount of the car they had chosen.

    Beckah Fink


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:19 pm

    Smile

    She smiled at a sorrowful stranger.
    The smile seemed to make him feel better.
    He remembered past kindnesses of a friend
    and wrote him a thank-you letter.
    The friend was so pleased with the thank-you
    that he left a large tip after lunch.
    The waitress, surprised by the size of the tip,
    bet the whole thing on a hunch.
    The next day she picked up her winnings,
    and gave part to a man on the street.
    The man on the street was grateful;
    for two days he'd had nothing to eat.
    After he finished his dinner,
    he left for his small dingy room.
    (He didn't know at the moment
    that he might be facing his doom.)
    On the way he picked up a shivering puppy
    and took him home to get warm.
    The puppy was very grateful
    to be in out of the storm.
    That night the house caught on fire.
    The puppy barked the alarm.
    He barked 'til he woke the whole household
    and saved everybody from harm.
    One of the boys that he rescued
    grew up to be President.
    All this because of a simple smile
    that hadn't cost a cent.

    Barbara Hauck, age 13


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:19 pm

    Paint Brush

    I keep my paint brush with me
    Wherever I may go,
    In case I need to cover up
    So the real me doesn't show
    I'm so afraid to show you me,
    Afraid of what you'll do--that
    You might laugh or say mean things.
    I'm afraid I might lose you.

    I'l dike to remove all my paint coats
    To show you the real, true me,
    But I want you to try and understand,
    I need you to accept what you see.
    So if you'll be patient and close your eyes.
    I'll strip off all my coats real slow.
    Please understand how much it hurts
    To let the real me show.

    Now my coats are all stripped off.
    I feel naked, bare and cold,
    And if you still love me with all that you see,
    You are my friend, pure as gold.

    I need to save my paint brush, though,
    And hold it in my hand,
    I want to keep it handy
    In case somebody doesn't understand.
    So please protect me, my dear friend
    And thanks for loving me true,
    But please let me keep my paintbrush with me
    Until I love me, too.

    Bettie B. Youngs

    This is my 900th post.


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:20 pm

    Please Hear What I'm Not Saying

    Don't be fooled by me.
    Don't be fooled by the face I wear.
    For I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
    masks that I'm afraid to take off,
    and none of them is me.
    Pretending is an art that's second nature to me,
    but don't be fooled.
    I give you the impression that I'm secure,
    that confidence in my name and coolness is my game,
    that the water's calm and I'm in command,
    and that I need one.
    But don't believe me.
    My surface my seem smooth but my surface
    is my mask, ever-varying and ever-concealing.
    Beneath lies no complacence.
    Beneath lies confusion and fear and aloneness.
    But I hide this, I don't wnat anybody to know it.

    I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed.
    That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
    a nonchalant sophisticated facade, to help me pretend,
    to shield me from a glance that knows.
    But such a glance is precisely my salvation.
    My only hope, and I know it.
    That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
    if it's followed by love.
    It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
    from my own self-built prison walls,
    from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
    It's the only thing that will assure me
    of what I can't assure myself,
    that I'm really worth something.
    I don't like to hide.
    I don't like to play superficial phony games.
    I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me,
    but you've got to help me.
    You've got to hold out your hand
    even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
    Only you can wipe away from my eyes
    the bland stare of the breathing dead.
    Only you can call me into aliveness.

    Each time you're kind and gentle and encouraging,
    each time you try to understand because you really care,
    my heart begins to grow wings, very small wings,
    very feeble wings,
    but wings!
    With your pwer to touch me into feeling
    you can breathe life into me.
    I want you to know that.

    Who am I, you may wonder.
    I am someone you know very well.
    For I am every man you meet,
    and I am every woman you meet.

    Jill Zevallos-Solak


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:21 pm

    I Am...

    The words "I am..." are potent word; be care-
    ful what you hitch them to. The thing you're
    claiming has a way of reaching back and
    claiming you.


    A. L. Kitselman

    [EDITOR'S NOTE: Have you ever noticed how often people ask
    you what you are going to be, what you do, or what you are plan-
    ning to do after college? For all of us who have suffered because
    what we do or who we're going to be doesn't cut it, here is the true
    answer. And let's remember this the next time someon says, "Oh,
    really? Well...there's nothing wrong with flipping bugers for a
    living. You should be proud."
    ]

    -I am an architect: I've built a solid foundation;
    and each year I go to that school I add another
    floor of wisdom and knowledge.
    -I am a sculptor: I've shaped my morals and
    philosophies according to the clay of right and
    wrong.
    -I am a painter: With each new idea I express, I
    paint a new hue in the world's multitude of colors.
    -I am a scientist: Each day that passes by, I
    gather new data, make important observations,
    and experiment with new concepts and ideas.
    -I am an astrologist: reading and analyzing the
    palms of life and each new person I encounter.
    -I am an astronaut: constantly exploring and
    broadening my horizons.
    -I am a doctor: I heal those who turn to me for
    consultation and advice, and I bring out the
    vitalityin those who seem lifeless.
    -I am a lawyer: I'm not afraid to stand up for
    the inevitable and basic rights of myself and all
    others.
    -I am a police officer: I always watch out for
    others' welfare and I am always on the scene
    preventing fights and keeping the peace.
    -I am a teacher: By my example others learn
    the importance of determination, dedication and
    hard work.
    -I am a mathematician: making sure I conquer
    each one of my problems with correct solutions.
    -I am a detective: peering through my two
    lenses, searching for meaning and significance in
    the mysteries of life.
    -I am a jury member: judging others and their
    situations only after I've heard and understood
    the entire story.
    -I am a banker: Others share their trust and
    values with me and never lose interest.
    -I am a hockey player: watching out for and
    dodging those who try to block my goal.
    -I am a marathon runner: full of energy, always
    moving and ready for the next challenge.
    -I am a mountain climber: Slowly but surely I
    am making my way to the top.
    -I am a tight-rope walker: Carefully and
    stealthily I pace myself through every rough
    time, but I always make it safely to the end.
    -I am a millionaire: rich in love, sincerity and
    compassion, and I own a wealth of knowledge,
    wisdom, experience and insight that is priceless.
    -Most important, I am me.

    Amy Yerkes


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:21 pm

    Sparky

    -For Sparky, school was all but impossible. He failed
    every subject in the eighth grade. He flunked physics in
    high school, getting a grade of zero. Sparky also flunked
    Latin, algebra and English. He didn't do much better in
    sports. Although he did manage to make the school's golf
    team, he promptly lost the only important match of the
    season. There was a consolation match; he lost that, too.
    -Throughout his youth Sparky was awkward socially.
    He was not actually disliked by the other students; no one
    cared that much. He was astonished if a classmate ever
    said hello to him outside of school hours. There's no way
    to tell how he might have done at dating. Sparky never
    once asked a girl to go out in high school. He was too
    afraid of being turned down.
    -Sparky was a loser. He, his classmates...everyone
    knew it. So he rolled with it. Sparky had made up his
    mind early in life that if things were meant to work out,
    they would. Otherwise he would content himself with
    what appeared to be his inevitable mediocrity.
    -However, one thing was important to Sparky - draw-
    ing. He was proud of his artwork. Of course, no one else
    appreciated it. In his senior year of high school, he sub-
    mitted some cartoons to the editors of the yearbook. The
    cartoons were turned down. Despite this particular rejec-
    tion, Sparky was so convinced of his ability that he
    decided to become a professional artist.
    -After completing high school, he wrote a letter to Walt
    Disney Studios. He was told to send some samples of his
    artwork, and the subject for a cartoon was suggested.
    Sparky drew the proposed cartoon. He spent a great deal
    of time on it and on all the other drawings he submitted.
    Finally, the reply came from Disney Studios. He had been
    rejected once again. Another loss for the loser.
    -So Sparky decided to write his own autobiography in
    cartoons. He described his childhood self - a little boy
    loser and chronic underachiever. The cartoon character
    would soon become famous worldwide. For Sparky, the
    boy who had such a lack of success in school and whose
    work was rejected again and again, was Charles Schultz.
    He created the "Peanuts" comic strip and the little cartoon
    character whose kite would never fly and who never suc-
    ceeded in kicking a football, Charlie Brown.

    Bits & Pieces


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:23 pm

    If I Knew

    -You know how you always hear people say, "If I knew
    then what I know now...?"
    -Have you ever wanted to say...yeah...well...go
    on...
    -So here we go...

    -I would listen more carefully to what my heart says.
    -I would enjoy more...worry less.
    -I would know that school would end soon enough...
    and work would...well, never mind.
    -I wouldn't worry so much about what other people
    were thinking.
    -I would appreciate all my vitality and tight skin.
    -I would play more, fret less.
    -I would know that my beauty/handsomeness is in
    my love of life.
    -I would know how much my parents love me and
    I would believe that they are doing the best they can.
    -I would enjoy the feeling of "being in love" and not
    worry so much about how it works out.
    -I would know that it probably won't...but that
    something better will come along.
    -I wouldn't be afraid of acting like a kid.
    -I would be braver.
    -I would look for the good qualities in everyone and
    enjoy them for those.
    -I would not hang out with people just because they're
    "popular."
    -I would take dance lessons.
    -I would enjoy my body just the way it is.
    -I would trus my girlfriends.
    -I would be a trustworthy girlfriend.
    -I wouldn't trust my boyfriends. (Just kidding.)
    -I would enjoy kissing. Really enjoy it.
    -I would be more appreciative and grateful, for sure.

    Kimberly Kirberger


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:24 pm

    Somebody Should Have Taught Him

    I went to a birthday party
    but I remember what you said.
    You told me not to drink at all,
    so I had a Sprite instead.
    I felt proud of myself,
    the way you said I would,
    that i didn't chose to drink and drive,
    though some friends said I should.
    I knew I made a healthy choice and
    your advice to me was right
    as the party finally ended
    and the kids drove out of sight.
    I got into my own car,
    sure to get home in one piece,
    never knowing what was coming,
    something I expected least.
    Now I'm lying on the pavement.
    I can hear the policeman say,
    "The kid that caused this wreck was drunk."
    His voice seems far away.
    My own blood is all around me,
    as I try hard not to cry.
    I can hear the paramedic say,
    "This girl is going to die."
    I'm sure the guy had no idea,
    while he was flying high,
    because he chose to drink and drive
    that I would have to die.
    So why do people do it,
    knowing that it ruins lives?
    But now the pain is cutting me
    like a hundred stabbing knives.
    Tell my sister not to be afraid,
    Tell Daddy to be brave,
    and when I go to heaven to
    put "Daddy's Girl" on my grave.
    Someone should have taught him
    that it's wrong to drink and drive.
    Maybe if his mom and dad had,
    I'd still be alive.
    My breath is getting shorter,
    I'm getting really scared.
    These are my final moments,
    and I'm so unprepared.
    I wish that you could hold me, Mom,
    as I lie here and die.
    I wish that I could say
    I love you and good-bye.

    Retold by Jane Watkins


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:24 pm

    The Dance

    Looking back on the memory of
    The Dance we shared 'neath the stars above
    For a moment all the world was right
    How was I to know that you'd ever
    say good-bye

    [Chorus:]
    And now I'm glad I didn't know
    The way it all would end
    The way it all would go
    Our lives are better left to chance
    I could have missed the pain
    But I'd of had to miss the dance

    Holding you I held everything
    For a moment wasn't I a king
    If I'd known how the king would fall
    Well who's to say I might have changed it all

    [Repeat Chours]

    Our lives are better left to chance
    I could have missed the pain
    But I'd of had to miss the dance

    Tony Arata


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:30 pm

    What Is Success?

    What is success?
    To laugh often and much;
    To win the respect of intelligent people
    and the affection of children;
    To earn the appreciation of honest critics
    and endure the betrayal of false friends;
    To appreciate beauty;
    To find the best in others;
    To leave the world a bit better, whether by
    a healthy child, a garden patch
    or a redeemed social condition;
    To know even one life has breathed
    easier because you have lived;
    This is to have succeeded.

    Ralph Waldo Emerson


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:30 pm

    The Leader

    If only they knew how hard it is for me.
    I'm turning 16, the world I begin to see.
    My friends began to change, right before my eyes,
    and now they seem to laugh, and tell all sorts of lies.
    They hang around together in groups of three or four;
    the language they use...it isn't gentle anymore.
    The kids that seem most lonely wind up in their pack,
    and those that stand alone, they talk behind their back.
    Somehow I feel rejected because I don't conform.
    Those that step to their own beat don't seem to be the norm.
    I've watched a few just fade away, with drugs and alcohol;
    and many more have given up, too many to recall.
    Alcohol is an option for everyone in my school.
    I've lost a friend to booze again; I will not be a fool.
    And sex, it seems so open, for everyone to explore.
    Three girls I know that came to school don't come here anymore.
    If only I could make a difference, what could I do or say?
    I would go to school and try my best each and every day.
    There is one thing I'd like to do before I graduate.
    I'd like to touch them one by one before it is too late.

    Tony Overman


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    Re: My Favorite Poems and Stories From Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

    Post by ♥Kris Kuyper's Wife♥ on Thu Jun 24, 2010 5:31 pm

    The Oyster

    There once was an oyster
    Whose story I tell,
    Who found some sand
    Had got into his shell.
    It was only a grain,
    But it gave him a great pain.
    For oysters have feelings
    Although they're so plain.

    Now, did he berate
    The harsh workings of fate
    That had brought him
    To such a deplorable state?
    Did he curse at the government,
    Cry for election,
    And claim that the sea should
    Have given him protection?

    No--he said to himself
    As he lay on a shell,
    Since I cannot remove it,
    I shall try to improve it.
    Now the years have rolled around,
    As the years always do,
    And he came to his ultimate
    Destiny--stew.

    And the small grain of sand
    That had bothered him so
    Was a beautiful pearl
    All richly aglow.
    Now the tale has a moral;
    For isn't it grand
    What an oyster can do
    With a morsel of sand?

    What couldn't we do
    If we'd only begin
    With some of the things
    That get under our skin.

    Author Unknown


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