Jeremy Houle

United States

There is no better way to improve yourself than braving your storms.
Hi, my name is Jeremy, an aspiring hero of your heart.

World traveler.

Message to Readers

Any and all feedback is appreciated. Thank you!

Here is the reasoning behind this piece:
I wrote this *because* of the poetry competition,
but I wrote it *for* Felicitay.


August 16, 2015

To be you it is true,
I can never be.
But to imagine I'm you, 

    It's ten in the morning,
    I'm typing a warning,
    And at ninety words per minute,
    I'm delving right in it.

    "A warning?" you say,
    "Are you sure, Felicitay?"
    Yes, I reply,
    Though my smile is sly.
    My friend's feeling remorse,
    Ov'r lettting run the course,
    Her mom signing her up for debat team.

    I fill with glee, 
    As I grab a tee,
    To give to my friend for fulfilling a dream.

    I've drempt of the day,
    When my friend would say,
    "Dear Felicitay,
    What do I do before my big day?"

    I start to grin,
    But she starts to sour.
    Perhaps she thinks when I begin,
    I won't be done for an hour.

    But I promise not to bore.
    I teach her how,
    To perfectly bow,
    And how to improve her score.

    Then I taught her how to research;
    She started with the state and the church.
    When I asked what the first four amemdnement are,
    She told me she knew, and I beamed like a star.

    I didn't get home till almost night,
    On account of waiting for the weather to be
    The state of the weather after it rains, you see.

    As I got in bed,
    I saw a star.
    I watched it as
    I ate a granola bar.
    The star got brighter and brighter;
    I had to pull a half nighter.
    We watched the star, I and my bar,
    As it sparkled amidst a twinkling sea.

    And then I saw that it was we,
    You know, my friend and me.
    I watched us get better and better,
    Till we were perfect,
    Down to the letter.

    The star was a dream, I now can see;
    Surely you don't think perfect are we!
    But isn't it great,
    Though nobody's straight,
    That God loves everyone,
    Both you, and me.

    I'm the Best at debate,
    I can juggle and skate.
    But remember my verdict,
    Nobody's perfect.
    Sometimes when I tell a story,
    I forget to give Him the glory.

    And even though the number of debaters who hate me is eighty-one,
    I know it can't be everyone.
    Because a guy,
    Though I don't even know him,
    He made me into a poem.

And so if I became like you,
I think I know just what I'd do.

I'd finish my school one subject one subject at a time,
So I didn't fell nausious,
Like last time.

Be just like you, is what I'd do,
If it's raining,
Or I'm training,
Or looking for something to do.

"I sincerely do pray," I wishfully say,
That some day I could meet you, 


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