Here is a poem that my friend gave a while a go:
“Puberty – With Capital Letters”
by Ellen Hagan
There went being a kid. There went
Barbie dolls, baby dolls, kitchen sets, play-
doh, crayons, make-believe (well, maybe not
make-believe). But there went innocent, child-
like, there went one-piece bathing suits. In came
adolescence, even though I’d had my period
since I was 10. In came self-consciousness,
waiting for breasts. In came attitude, and “Why
can’t I?” “You said!” “I hate you,” under my breath.
In came diaries with hidden messages and dares
I always took. In came kissing and not kissing,
and doing it, and not doing it, and rounding bases,
and not rounding bases, and rounding bases having
nothing at all to do with baseball, and sometimes wishing
you could just play baseball instead.
In came. Rebellion. Cliches. Are you kidding? Drinking.
Do-overs. Cheer-leading Uniforms. Regret. Pure Bliss.
Uncovering. Feeling not good enough. Cockiness. Joy.
In came wild cards. Short skirts. Cocktails. 15. Funnels.
Mid-riff baring. Belly-button rings. Challenges. Being
challenging. The ultimate change. The ultimate fast-forward.
In came growing up.
I also found this poem from last years old AP test:
By: Li-Young Lee
Sad is the man who asked for a story
and can’t come up with one.
His five-year old son waits on his lap.
Not the same story, Baba. A new one.
The man rubs his chin, scratches his ear.
In the room full of books in the world
of stories, he can recall
not one, and soon, he thinks, the boy
will give up on his father.
Already the man lives far ahead, he sees
the day this boy will go. Don’t go!
Hear the alligator story! The angel story once more!
You love the spider story. You laugh at the spider.
Let me tell it!
But the boy is packing his shirts.
He is looking for his keys. Are you a god.
the man screams, that I sit mute before you!
Am I a god that I should never disappoint!
But the boy is here. Please, Baba, a story?
It is an emotional rather than logical equation,
an earthly rather than heavenly one,
which posits that a boy’s supplications
and a father’s love add up to silence.