BC: The End
FC: By: Samuel Zinga Ms. Glenn 1st period 3/28/12 | Poetry Anthology
1: Life brings simple pleasures to us every day. It is up to us to make them wonderful memories. CathyAllen | Table Of Contents | Self Respect Poem pg. 3 Where I'm From Poem pg. 4 My Mother's Kitchen Poem pg. 4 Language ArtsPoem pg. 5
3: Self-Respect Poem By: Samuel Zinga Sometimes I put forth effort, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I practice and study, sometimes I won’t. Depending on the mood and way I feel, I might even chose to play it real. It really just depends on the care others have shown. I’m not a type to follow crowds. And I ain’t an average schmuck. But I learned to work and try my best Because I am not a man of luck. I’m not one to dwell in the past. My worth is not determined by past events that linger. No matter what I say or do. I will always be Samuel Zinga.
4: “WHERE I'M FROM” By: Samuel Zinga I am from something from nothing and everything in between. I am from the Crossing at Virgil Moon. I am from the mango tree, the honeysuckle. I am from Sundays at the park and laughing at each other, from Gaby and Joujou and Zinga. I am from the arguments with siblings and the jokes that everyone tells. From orange trees in my stomach and monsters in my closet. I am from Church on Sundays. I'm from the Congo, from rice and beans. From the stories of uncles skipping school, the loving forgiveness of Grandma, and the strictness of Grandpa. I am from the memories that last.
6: Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in -Robert Frost
7: My Mother's Kitchen By: Samuel Zinga Her scrunched up face from the terrible day And the depressed look she bore, just all went away. As she stepped into the coziest room in our home, For you know, not every road will take you to Rome. But her expectations were ripped to a shred As she looked upon the young boy she presumed to be dead. The oven door lay open with his hand wrapped around A bowl of green soup-like food, half spilled on the ground. The cause of death uncertain, but possibly from witch men And all of this took place, inside my mother's kitchen.
8: Language Arts By: Samuel Zinga Vocab, reading, and tons of other stuff, But when will we say that enough has been enough? The grammar worksheets that we are forced to complete, Comparing test scores, the urge to compete. We write and write essays then stop to revise, But too much of a good thing will bring its own demise. We study Greek Roots or something like that And receive lots of knowledge when we're not on G-chat We learn about people like Shakespeare and Frost And after a time all this info is lost. But in the end I give Language Arts a ten out of ten, And all thanks to teachers like the lovely Ms. Glenn.
20: A family is pieced together with hope and faith. A family is quilted and bound with love and grace.