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Kaylin Haught: Poem: God Says Yes To Me

The poem is a dialogue where the speaker asks God questions about what is acceptable, such as being melodramatic, being short, or wearing nail polish, and God reassuringly responds with approval to each question, saying "yes" and terms of endearment.

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Jefford Klein Pilare Gogo
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172 views

Kaylin Haught: Poem: God Says Yes To Me

The poem is a dialogue where the speaker asks God questions about what is acceptable, such as being melodramatic, being short, or wearing nail polish, and God reassuringly responds with approval to each question, saying "yes" and terms of endearment.

Uploaded by

Jefford Klein Pilare Gogo
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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Poem:

God Says Yes To Me


Kaylin Haught
I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

A Boring Story
by Anton Chekhov
["A Boring Story" is also known under the title "A Dreary Story." Due to it's
length I considered it a novella and have it listed under Anton Chekhov's book
titles. Start reading it here, and continue by following the link below.]
From the notebook of an old man

There is in Russia an emeritus Professor Nikolay Stepanovitch, a


chevalier and privy councillor; he has so many Russian and foreign
decorations that when he has occasion to put them on the students
nickname him The Ikonstand. His acquaintances are of the most
aristocratic; for the last twenty-five or thirty years, at any rate, there
has not been one single distinguished man of learning in Russia with
whom he has not been intimately acquainted. There is no one for him
to make friends with nowadays; but if we turn to the past, the long list
of his famous friends winds up with such names as Pirogov, Kavelin,
and the poet Nekrasov, all of whom bestowed upon him a warm and
sincere affection. He is a member of all the Russian and of three
foreign universities. And so on, and so on. All that and a great deal
more that might be said makes up what is called my name.
That is my name as known to the public. In Russia it is known to
every educated man, and abroad it is mentioned in the lecture-room
with the addition honored and distinguished. It is one of those
fortunate names to abuse which or to take which in vain, in public or
in print, is considered a sign of bad taste. And that is as it should be.
You see, my name is closely associated with the conception of a

highly distinguished man of great gifts and unquestionable


usefulness. I have the industry and power of endurance of a camel,
and that is important, and I have talent, which is even more important.
Moreover, while I am on this subject, I am a well-educated, modest,
and honest fellow. I have never poked my nose into literature or
politics; I have never sought popularity in polemics with the ignorant;
I have never made speeches either at public dinners or at the funerals
of my friends. In fact, there is no slur on my learned name, and
there is no complaint one can make against it. It is fortunate.

Declamation:

"AM I TO BE BLAMED?"
They're chasing me, they're chasing, no they must not catch me, I have enough money now,
yes enough for my starving mother and brothers.
Please let me go, let me go home before you imprisoned me. Very well, officers? take me to
your headquarters. Good morning captain! no captain, you are mistaken, I was once a
good girl, just like the rest of you here. Just like any of your daughters. But time was, when
I was reared in slums. But we lived honestly, we lived honestly in life. My, father, mother,
brothers, sisters and I. But then, poverty enters the portals of our home. My father became
jobless, my mother got ill. The small savings that my mother had kept for our expenses
were spent. All for our daily needs and her needed medicine.
One night, my father went out, telling us that he would come back in a few minutes with
plenty of foods and money, but that was the last time I saw him. He went with another
woman. If only I could lay my hands on his neck I would wring it without pain until he
breaths no more. If you were in my place, you'll do it, won't you Captain? What? you
won't still believe in me?. Come and I'll show you a dilapidated shanty by a railroad.
Mother, mother I'm home, mother? mother?!. There Captain, see my dead mother.
Captain? there are tears in your eyes? now pack this stolen money and return it to the
owner. What good would this do to my mother now? she's already gone! Do you hear me?
she's already gone. Am I to be blamed for the things I have done?

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