Slam Group Poem

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January:

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

February:

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.

March:

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.

April:

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.

May:

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.

June:

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

July:

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

August:

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

September:

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.

October:

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.

November:

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,

For some,

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.

December:

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:

Delaney Ham

McCartney Elliott

Landon Boettcher

Jacey Kent

Jerzie Vap

Lilly Sayer

Harper Fennel

Isaac Haack

Elizabeth Meyers

Allison Boettcher

Matthew Garringer

Maxine Fickenscher