Life with love

Life with family

Life with trust

Life with no lies

Life with no hatred

Life with no violence

Life with peace

Life with no pain or suffering

I wish life could be like this.

Only some things have come true for me.

I have a life with love, family, trust.

My family doesn’t cause me pain or suffering.

I wish life could be without violence.

Hatred or Pain.

If life was really this way.

Everyone would be happy and live in peace

And harmony.

Then and only then would the world be in paradise.

Why can’t we live in peace?

Should we blame Adam or Eve for the way the world

Is today?

Or should we blame ourselves?

By:Katherine Vasques

NOTICE: This poem was written by one of my classmate at NYU’s Upward Bound Program for annual yearbook back in summer 2002.

I am Me

That is all I will ever be

I will be somebody

A doctor, teacher, or even a negotiator

I am black

With a little Chinese

But nobody could ever tell me who I am

I stand Strong

And hate to be wrong

I am motivated to learn about topics

So I could be a doctor, teacher, even a negotiator

A female that knows where she is going

And no one to stop me

I am Me

By: Stephanie Jones

NOTICE: This poem was written by one of my classmate at NYU’s Upward Bound Program for annual yearbook back in summer 2002.

It was very difficult for me to believe it. How could I get pregnant at such a young age? In those days no one really stressed the point of teenage pregnancy. My health teacher would make a comment, “11 out of the 27 kids in this class will have a baby by the end of their senior year in high school.” I would always think in my head, “That would never be me.”

Eventually, it was me. I was part of the statistics that she mentioned. You can’t change your life experiences that happened in the past. You can just live on day by day, hoping for the best and not letting anything hold you back from your dreams and accomplishments. Well, I delivered my son and he was a cute one.

A lot of responsibility came along with that package on March 6, 1998 at 12:36 p.m. There was diaper changing, bathing, and laundry. It was necessary for me to purchase formula, clothing, a car seat, highchair, bassinet, changing table, and swing. I went from being a child to giving birth to one. I went from a pediatrician to seeing a gynecologist. Yes, I was young. I should have been a little more careful.

By: Jashique Stona.

NOTICE: This short essay was written by one of my classmate at NYU’s Upward Bound Program for annual yearbook back in summer 2002.

Though not about the isolation people will feel – really for the first time in recent decades – if the cost of driving becomes prohibitively expensive.

My point is that this hits Americans in ways the Britons find difficult to imagine.

A postscript though: a friend of mine who is a director of a British private rail company tells me he is looking for similar companies to buy in the US.

In fact, he is toying currently with buying a major suburban system which is up for sale soon, he tells me, with a view to pouncing if Amtrak is broken up.

Some may see this as an encouraging sign – a realisation in the outside world that there is a real market now for high quality public transport in the US. But the British experience has been – is it fair to say ? – patchy in recent years.

Whether British companies are in a position to provide some minor amelioration of America’s transport difficulties, I could not of course possibly comment, since I have not lived in the UK for many years…

And the point remains that if you live in America’s glorious interior, my friend the fat controller (that’s a British thing) will not and cannot help.

By:  Justin Web (BBC).

Your lips are so soft when they touch me.
Whenever they meet the world just shines.
When we’re together nothing goes wrong.
Nothing can express how I’ve felt for so long.
When I’m with you my life is so unreal.
If only you knew how happy and in love I feel.
I wish I could never let go of you
Because you are my only love, so very true.

By:  Jonelle Bradley.

NOTICE: This poem was written by one of my classmate at NYU’s Upward Bound Program for annual yearbook back in summer 2002.