Snow - a poem by Nate

Snow

When snow comes falling from the unknown place

High in the sky

You look up, cheeks are red as if you're shy.

A flake of snow tickles your cheek.

The neighborhood hears your joyous shriek. 

You decide to play in the snow today.

Even though it's far away, you still fret

The month of May.

School - a poem by Nate

School

When you go to school

It's best to stay cool.

If your teacher gives you a test

It's easiest just to say, "west." 

When you get an A

Just say, "Yay!"

And that's how you do good in school!

Death - a poem by Nate

Death

When you don't have shame

And you call his name

Out of hate, not out of love.

He'll appear at the windowsill as a beautiful dove.

Whatever you do, don't let him into your abode

For surely he will turn into a more vicious mode.

With a touch of his scythe, he'll whisk you away.

For a soul like you, you will not stay.

Your soul will burn as if trapped in an urn

And that's how you'll stay forever.

Dew - a poem by Nate

Dew

In the morning, dew shines back at you

like a mirror

and when 

the breeze tickles the tree's leaves

it falls in 

its own significant pattern

Revolutionary War Poem - by Nate

Cold, they trudge on.

Their souls have died down.

On their faces is a frown

But yet, they trudge on.

They ask themselves why they've seen such horrible things

But they tell themselves, "We don't want a King."

So, they trudge on through snow and ice

Hoping they can keep their life.

It's a Turkey's Life - by Nate

     I wake up out of my bed and I can't figure out what's annoying me most. That I haven't paid the rent from my store, or that I can't afford a new assortment of meat for the St. Patrick's Day Parade. I get up and slowly get dressed in my stainless butcher uniform and I hobble half-asleep downstairs. I take some bird seed and I toss it to my bird Tweeter's cage. She looks at me eagerly and squeaks for more. I pat her head (it feels nice on her soft velvety feathers). As I leave I take a look at my little house. The cool wet dew is sloshing under my feet as I walk towards my car. As I drive towards the center of town, all the other businesses look bigger than mine. As I park my car, I look up at the big neon letters above my show, "Boberts Butchery". I go inside and I change the sign from 'closed' to 'open' and then I turn on the lights and go behind the counter. I pick up the novel that I'm reading by my all-time favorite author Rick Riordan. "Best day of my life," I say glumly. Then the door opens and a fancy looking man walks in. I put down my book and ask him politely, "Can I help you sir?" He looks through narrowed eyes at my menu while toying with his thin wispy moustache. Without looking at me, he orders, "I'll take 10 pounds of your best ham for $300." I try not to gawk in amazement as my eyes bulge. I can only squeak out, "coming right up sir."
     I know it's just enough for my rent. I rush into the cold meat locker, my eyes wide with excitement. I frantically look around for my best ham. I see a small box in the corner covered with frost. I run over there, pick up the box and wipe the frost off the label. The box had probably been in here for months but no time to check the expiration date. The worn out label says in thin dark fancy script "Gourmet Ham imported from Spain". I put the box on the table. The man checks every inch of the box. He takes out a ball point pen and slowly props the top of the box up and checks the hams. A smile fringes on the side of his face - he quickly bats it down. he says (in his best poker face) "I'll take 'em."
     After closing time, I hop into my car and drive off to the bank. I hand the bank accountant my $300. He gives me $50 back. Just then I remember I paid $50 i advance. I drive off to the super market to get the St. Patrick's Day Parade ham.