"klassen" poems
Growing up as a guy I have something to admit
Its that theres so many girls that i'll never forget
So i'll jump right in and go right from the start
and tell you about all these girls that have affected my heart
So lets start with the As there is two that first come to mind
and thats Ambrea and Ashley, their each one of a kind
Now those are my sisters so their first to be said
but lets continue on to who else pops in my head
lets see...there's 2 Ashley As, but only one Ashley G
can't forget Amanda K, or all 7 Amys
There are so many As that we'd have to stay way long
let me wrap it up quick with the cutest one "akon"
You should see all these B's their so pretty it scares me
theres Beth and theres B thou, theres Bee and B. Barry
In the C's we have Crepeele with her pretty long blonde hur
and then we have Cameo, thats right, Mama Burr
On to the Ds they would never be meana
theres danielle carey, and then there is dreena
though im sure there are Es-Hs to do
i'm skipping to Js starting with J. Gubbes
Janelle, Jolene, or Jocelyn B.
Jordan, and Jen, and Jill L. you see
Jamie, and jasmine, or J. Allen
Jaylene, and Jessica, and then jen again
Oh God now the Ks, not sure where to begin...
I'll start with the departed R.I.P. Kristin
On to the girls that are more than alive,
Lets take, Keilyn, Kayla, and Karmen on a test drive
Three other K's must get named out for sure
And that's Kaley, Kansas, and Kristjana Schure
Two Girls in the Ls that are way way to awesome
And thats Lauren Borsheim, and of course, Laura Klassen
On to the Ms there is no time to spare
Just one, Maryke, and she cuts my hair
...I'm just kidding MOM you know your up there!
We do have an N there's nothing to fear
Her name is Niki, she lives in Red Deer
No Os, or Ps, or Qs to discuss
we'll move on to R's cause this next ones a must
Rachael K the Australian Wonder
Rebecca's art is so good she draws lightning and thunder
Theres a couple of shellys, and Sam 1 and 2
Tara looks like a model, and Tia does too
Don't know any Us, the Vs go in order
Vanessa M, V. Young, and VJ the reporter
If your name wasn't mentioned no need to be sour
this poem was rushed, took me less than an hour
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 10:04 PM UTC
I'd thought I might do something crazy
Just to get it out of my blood
I'd been thinking about myself too much
And that's never a good thing
Praying I'd find some strength inside
Some grace and self discipline
Life isn't about what I might want
Though that's probably a good thing
And if I look away at times
I can't quite look into your eyes
I may not trust myself to speak
A bit afraid of what you'd see
If I'm confused once in a while
Appearing lonesome and fragile
I've tried hard not to let it out
That's not the me I'm all about
I'd thought I might do something crazy
Just to get it out of my blood
But that'd be thinking about myself too much
And that's never a good thing
By Cheryl Klassen
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 1:28 PM UTC
Hard to go on...so little information
So hard to know to trust my instincts or
to just be open
Try to let go...those 'perfect' expectations
I just never know...what with all my imperfections
***
(CH) I get nervous
Questioning my very self
All my introspections
Everything I think I know
My experiences
Every thought and nurtured hope
Comes down to fear or love
and learning when to just let go
***
I get tired...too tired to bother trying
Never dreaming, but overanalyzing
I get lazy, and sometimes I get whiny
Procrastinating...
and in general; just wasting time
(CH)
(instrumental bridge)
I get fearful,
sometimes feeling uninspired
Things seem hazy some days
Often I feel strung too tightly
But if I close my eyes
It all just disappears and
if I express it right
I only hope it comes out clearly....
(CH)
By Cheryl Klassen
© 2011 Cheryl Klassen (All rights reserved)
Oct 16, 2011
Oct 16, 2011 at 4:17 PM UTC
I thought it was a need
that made me different
I thought I needed
something to redeem
I thought it was a need
for something magic
I thought I knew
the essence and the theme
It wasn't just a need for
something unusual
It wasn't just a feeling
That comes and goes
It wasn't just a thought
I couldn't process
It was just too painful
for me to show
I thought it was a need
for something stable
Thought that I deserved
a certain peace
I thought it was a need
for love and safety
I thought it was a need
for the strength to succeed
It wasn't just a need for
something eclectic
It wasn't just a feeling
That came and went
It wasn't just a dream
I couldn't possess
It was just too brutal
to understand
I thought it was a need
for self-actualization
Thought I needed space
and time to breathe
I thought it was a need
out of co-dependence
I could not fathom
the need to be free
It wasn't just a need
for something electric
It wasn't just a feeling
I couldn't arrange
It wasn't just a hope
for some affection
It was just the energy
we exchanged
I thought it was a need
for my own acceptance
Thought I could be
strong and still optimistic
I thought it was a need
that was unrealistic
But it was just another
weakness I could never admit
I thought it was a strength
Kept me indifferent
Thought it just a phase
I tried to pass through
I thought if I could
Give it some attention
Maybe I could learn
To stop blaming you
© 2002 Cheryl Klassen
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 1:29 PM UTC
begyndte at græde i danskundervisningen idag
men det er da også uforsvarlig at en ung pige
med en depression på bagen og friske sår på håndledet
skal side og analysere digte der handler om selvmordsforsøg
og netop dét som *** går rundt og kæmper med
at hendes evne til at forstå disse digte bliver til en skrøbelighed
og denne helt samme skrøbelighed kommer nu til syne
for hele klassen og alt hendes arbejde for at virke glad
falder pludselig til jorden og *** føler sig gennemsigtig
som om at hendes langærmede bluse nu ikke er lang nok
til at skjule de lange sår på hendes håndled og de
er til offentligt skue og skaber frygt og rædsel
og alligevel sidder de bare dér og kigger med store øjne
som om *** er et fremmed dyr der taler følelsernes sprog
og det lyder som vulapyk i deres øre fordi de aldrig selv
har følt apatien
aldrig har indset at der ikke er noget
der er værd at leve for
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 8:18 AM UTC
kridtet fedter af på alle overflader, med sin tørre tilstedeværelse strejfer den alles liv og efterlader sit uendeligt hvide mærke. kridtet tegner og støver og brækkes og ruller og gemmer sig under radiatoren i biologilokalet under jorden. kridtet kommer også fra et sted under jordens overflade - fra havet, siger de på stevns klint hvor vi er unge og nye og uspolerede af kridtet og af verden, hvor jeg er 15 og alt er nyt. kridtets forældede tilstand i sin oprindelse og i sin kapgang med plastiktavler og whiteboardtuscher.
kridtet, der følger folk fra barndomsgaden i flerfarvet naiv fantasi til institutionaliseret indlæren,
t a v l e u n d e r v i s n i n g e n
og vi ser ikke en brøkdel af vores asfalteventyr i de hvide, kompakte, pragmatiske ruller. et anstrengt forhold det hvide, sammenpakkede støv hersker i klassen, opdager vi i efter en dansktime, hvor jeg tænkte på mine fingre dækket i det omklamrende materiale, fingerneglene på tavlen,
g å s e h u d e n.
min mors yndlingsslik er skolekridt og *** spiser en pose på en halv time, hvorefter *** rystende genovervejer, om *** overhovedet kan lide dem. jeg dufter til kridtet der minder mig om kalk, om kælder, om saltsten fra limfjorden og kridtet sidder på mine fingre og i mine tanker
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 4:54 PM UTC
If we can learn to really listen
Things begin to make more sense
We could avoid misunderstandings
If we could learn to hear ourselves
When we purposely avoided
Conversations and disputes
Sacrificing painful lessons
Denial overtook our truth
If we learn to speak in earnest
Strength can overcome the pain
If we learn to just be honest
Love ourselves and try again
If we never put it out there
Nothing comes back in return
It's not all bitter disappointment
There is something to be learned
If we can learn to really listen
Things begin to make more sense
We could avoid misunderstandings
If we could learn to hear ourselves
By Cheryl Klassen
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 1:12 PM UTC
Reeling...from your blatant disrespect for who I am...
And feeling...like you could never understand...
and yet I'll still extend my hand...
I wonder how you'd feel
inside your mind...
If you could live my life.
Trying to allow myself to see
beyond reflections of
your judgements of me...
Past all those things you disapprove of
and things you think you see---
All of the fragments of all there is to me.
How well I understand your rage...
How well I recognize your pain...
If you could only see...
beyond illusion,
beyond ignorance and apathy...
Through the mirror of me...
Do you recognize me?
Do you like what you see?
Shadowed by the ghosts
of days gone by...
Whispers...fairly shouting in my mind.
Tangled webs of loneliness
strewn amongst
the ruins of denial in all its righteousness.
Confusing empathy with angry jests...
Acceptance...still a word upon a page,
Actions born of anger been displaced.
How well I understand your rage...
how well I recognize your pain...
Oh....if you could only see...
Beyond illusion
beyond ignorance and apathy
Through the mirror of me...
Do you like what you see?
Do you recognize me?
By Cheryl Klassen
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 1:09 PM UTC
I always said
I was no angel
with all my human needs
with every single
stark defect
all the faults and flaws in me
I never tried
to mend a heart
tamed my demon honesty
I only meant
to tell the truth
just to show the way I feel
I said
I wasn't perfect though
and I've proven not to be
But all along
I told the truth
my feelings, sharing freely
Idealistic,
hopes aspired
to see what sounded true
and though I was
'authentic me'
I was so confused
Instead of finding
answers
Only questions echoed back
and I was
always certain
to see more of what I lacked
Never feeling safe,
secure
in who I could believe
I finally accepted facts
and recognized
the real
considering
other's attributes
I had confused with me
I had a skewed
perspective
and a fragile self esteem
Fostered
by the fantasies
of completely selfish dreams
I always said
I was no angel....
I was always only me.
By Cheryl Klassen
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 1:01 PM UTC
even when i don't like what i hear
i know to listen
even when i don't like what i see
i look at me
even if it hurts to face the truth
i want to find it
even when i'm disappointed
i still want to see
people that i know
i know i touch them for a reason
everything i learn
i will be grateful for in time
all of what i am
and know i still need to let go of
everything i have
and can impart with strength and love
By Cheryl Klassen
Aug 29, 2011
Aug 29, 2011 at 12:55 PM UTC
Just a moment or two, that was all we ever knew
saw the value in the cost, but just too late
All those bridges we burned, while we each refused to learn
When the memories brought us pain we pushed away
Was it something left unsaid, all those dumb mistakes we made
All those years of silence only undermined
Now when all's said and done, will we each choose to move on
Will the bitter or the sweet be left behind
promises fall by the wayside
intentions smoke and ashes all the same
And though we end up with forgiveness
Still it hurts to see illusions burned away
In a moment it's gone, on our own sides all alone
Do we blame the world around us, close our minds
When the smoke finally fades, dust and ashes blown away
Do we choose to trust again, with open eyes
promises fall by the wayside
intentions smoke and ashes all the same
and though it still hurts like it has to
Some old bridges are best burned away
By Cheryl Klassen
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 1:13 PM UTC
What gift of love is this?
Undeserved, I find myself
Cascading, showers of bliss
Dare I indulge in such wealth?!
❤️
My eyes look upon your face
To your heart & spy your soul
As it shines, I see His grace
Abundant, Amazing, whole.
❤️
From this day I give my vow
Not alone my hand I give
My heart, soul to thee endow
His treasure bestowed us to live.
❤️
No words can fully express
As my heart now binds to yours
Sheer, winged blessedness
From far beyond Heaven's doors.
Copyright(c)2015, Tina Woelk Klassen (KatWK)
All Rights Reserved
Written by Tina Woelk Klassen (KatWK)
Thurs, Sept 24th 2015.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC