Central Standard
12:00 pm
Wed May 18, 2011

The Troubadours Poetry Club

Kansas City’s own Turner High School is carrying on the tradition of the Troubadours of old.  Teachers Marlee Stempleman and Jessica Kendall have fashioned a poetry project called the Troubadours Poetry Club where students express themselves by writing and reading their own works.  This morning on Central Standard, Marlee Stempleman and two club members stop in to share their craft.

Here are a few poems written by young Turner Troubadours:

I Remember
By Anna Stark

I remember when my day-to-day existence was nothing but a body taking up space. Another child born into a split family, just another life in this world, a story waiting to be written. Why had pen not touched paper?

My life was stuck in pause. Life is moving around me, but I am not. I was looking at my life from someone else’s perspective.

All I wanted was to be happy. Myself again. I wanted someone to tell me what changed; I wanted someone to tell me why I could not answer my own questions anymore.

Then it hit me. A gear shifted, it had changed. I was me again. I had regained my sight to see, see the beauty in even the smallest of things.

Each day was new again. Slowly, ever so slowly, I regained control. Sleep came once again, dreams came, they were not so bitter.

My smile was not forced. The clouds parted, the sun radiated and felt good, it felt warm; it was welcomed.

But what had changed?

I finally let you go.

The Storm
By Brooklyn Anderson

My house, it was full.

The storm took that away

As the sun rose each day.

The storm would come.

It would stay.

A cloud, a rain, thunder,

then a hurricane.

My house, it is destroyed.

The storm took it all away.

My house stands still

on a rocky hill.

Each morning the sun will rise,

But the storm it will come.

My house, not a home,

just some bricks, destroyed.

The storm took it all away.

The Beginning
By Luis Marguia

We started as nothing,

as enemies. We didn’t have anything that connected us.

No single relationship. We were snotty

brats, immature. No hopes or

dreams. The shattered dreams.

It took a strong person

To bring us together with her cleverness.

We came together.

We are the Troubadours.

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