The Watermelon Radish

The Watermelon Radish
A Kid's Point of Food

Saturday, November 23, 2013

This I believe....

This I believe....

My name is Kellen, and I am fourteen years old.  Fourteen is a simple number, and it doesn’t account for much time  on this planet.  It might not even be enough time to develop a belief about the world.  But to me it is. I believe in the power of perseverance.  I believe in commitment.  I believe in picking your passion and dedicating yourself to it.  Following through with my actions is extremely important to me, and is a valuable asset in my life. When I began training to play tennis and improve my physical capabilities, I wasn’t as strong mentally or physically as I am now.  I didn’t believe in myself, or my ability to pull my way to the top of my physical wall.  I felt lost in a sea of the remains of hopes, and I had no idea how to pull myself out.  I was drowning beneath my fears, and my subconscious mind was dwelling in a pit of self conscious denial.  And I wanted out. My trainer once told me that I could do anything if I put my mind to it.  It was a tired old cliche, and I’d heard it a thousand times before.  Hearing it from him, under the circumstances that I wanted to be the best that I could be, made me want to persevere.  Now, each time I go to training, I have a new found love for what I do.  Once I knew that I could persevere through the hard times,  nothing seemed so bad. Out on the court, just my coach and I, surrounded by trees and empty benches, was when this belief truly took shape.  I didn’t see deserted white benches, I saw a busy stadium filled with loud noises and boisterous people.  In my mind, I needed to impress them, I wanted them to look at me and remember my name.  Each time I hit the ball I looked around, searching for something, searching for approval in their eyes.  It wasn’t there.  They weren’t there.  The only way to find their cheers and see the admiration and respect in their eyes, was to go find it.  No matter how tired I might be, no matter how much my bones ached, no matter how acutely I felt the burning in my thighs, I needed to persevere to get to those people.   My perseverance allowed me to push through tough times when tutoring children younger than I, extend myself to new heights when training, and exert myself more than I thought possible in tennis.  This belief has been extremely valuable to me, and everything that I stand for. Once I realized what I needed to do, there was only a starting point, not a finish.  My perseverance is one of a kind because it never leaves me.  I have to try as hard as I can, and accomplish the goals I’ve set.  Once I gained perseverance, I started living.  Whenever someone says the word ‘perseverance’, I am brought back to a thriving gym staring into my trainer’s thoughtful eyes, and I know I can go on. 

See you soon, (or write to you soon because I can't see you, or can I?)
-The Watermelon Radish

Sunday, November 3, 2013

The Trail of Tears

Hello everyone!

Right now, at school we are learning about early American history.  Andrew Jackson, supposedly the best president, supposedly the worst.  I'm going to go with worst, because a good president wouldn't make over 8,000 American Indians walk from Georgia to Oklahoma in the middle of winter.
We were assigned to write a poem about somebody on the trail, so here's mine.  I called it 'Tiny Angel' and it is about an eight year old girl named Effie Oaks who was on the trail.

Tiny Angel
Sleep now, tiny angel
in the morning you shall wake
your calloused feet are tired,
your frame will never cease to shake
Dry your eyes now, tiny angel
you’ve carried on so long
this tyrant who does plague you
will be washed away by dawn
Hush now, tiny angel
your family had to leave
but they never wanted too,
you carry your wailing brother, in hopes that he won’t leave you too
Tearful, tiny angel
the crystals gather in your eyes
diamonds cascade down your cheeks,
you used to be so shy
Remember, tiny angel
and rest your fevered head
remember 1928 when the first one was found dead
Blossom, tiny angel
and continue to bloom
your tears water the thirsty soil
and strain to grow
fight him, tiny angel
fight the one revered
he holds you back with gossamer threads to never again break free
It’s almost over, tiny angel
and when you watch the others die
do you feel emotion, or have to seen too many cry
Burning, tiny angel
this fallen snow cuts deep
the thorns of bruises open wide and leave splashes of red against the snow
Avert your eyes, tiny angel
for you do not need to see, the chief collapse of sickness
the elder slumped against the tree
Singing, tiny angel
you raise your voice in song, wail above the howling wind
been singing for so long
Don’t give up, tiny angel
you know you’ll get there soon, or will they have to dig another grave
to lay your weightless form
You couldn’t, tiny angel
you couldn’t stay alive
a porcelain beauty, as human as you
responsible for this child’s death,

A tiny angel, in the snow

See everyone next post!
-The Watermelon Radish