Collections of TOP Declamation Pieces

TOP TEN UNDYING DECLAMATION PIECES

1. "Bad Girl"
Hey! Everybody seems to be staring at me..
You! You! All of you!
How dare you to stare at me?
Why? Is it because I'm a bad girl?
A bad girl I am, A good for nothing teen ager, a problem child?
That's what you call me!
I smoke. I drink. I gamble at my young tender age.
I lie. I cheat, and I could even kill, If I have too.
Yes, I'm a bad girl, but where are my parents?
You! You! You are my good parents?
My good elder brother and sister in this society where I live?
Looklook at meWhat have you done to me?
You have pampered and spoiled me, neglected me when I needed you
most!
Entrusted me to a yaya, whose intelligence was much lower than mine!
While you go about your parties, your meetings and gambling session
Thus I drifted away from you!
Longing for a father's love, yearning for a mother's care!
As I grew up, everything changed!
You too have changed!
You spent more time in your poker, majong tables, bars and night clubs.
You even landed on the headlines of the newspaper as crooks, peddlers
and
racketeers.
Now, you call me names, accuse me of everything I do to myself?
Tell me! How good are you?
If you really wish to ensure my future
Then hurry.hurry back home! Where I await you, because I need you
Protect me from all evil influences that will threaten at my very own
understanding
But if I am bad, really badthen, you've got to help me!
Help me! Oh pleaseHelp me!

2. "Juvenile Delinquent"
Am I a juvenile delinquent? Im a teenager, Im young, young at heart in mind. In
this position, Im carefree, I enjoy doing nothing but to drink the wine of pleasure.
I seldom go to school, nobody cares!. But instead you can see me roaming around.
Standing at the nearby canto (street). Or else standing beside a jukebox stand
playing the nerve tickling bugaloo. Those are the reasons, why people, you
branded me delinquent, a juvenile delinquent.
My parents ignored me, my teachers sneered at me and my friends, they
neglected me. One night I asked my mother to teach me how to appreciate the
values in life. Would you care what she told me? "Stop bothering me! Cant you
see? I had to dress up for my mahjong session, some other time my child". I
turned to my father to console me, but, what a wonderful thing he told me. "Child,
heres 500 bucks, get it and enjoy yourself, go and ask your teachers that
question".
And in school, I heard nothing but the echoes of the voices of my teachers
torturing me with these words. "Why waste your time in studying, you cant even
divide 100 by 5! Go home and plant sweet potatoes".
I may have the looks of Audrey Hepburn, the calmly voice of Nathalie Cole. But
thats not what you can see in me. Heres a young girl who needs counsel to
enlighten her way and guidance to strenghten her life into contentment.
Honorable judge, friends and teachersis this the girl whom you commented a
juvenile delinquent?.
My parents ignored me, my teachers sneered at me and my friends, they
neglected me. One night I asked my mother to teach me how to appreciate the
values in life. Would you care what she told me? "Stop bothering me! Cant you
see? I had to dress up for my mahjong session, some other time my child". I
turned to my father to console me, but, what a wonderful thing he told me. "Child,
heres 500 bucks, get it and enjou yourself, go and ask your teachers that
question".
And in school, I heard nothing but the echoes of the voices of my teachers
torturing me with these words. "Why waste your time in studying, you cant even
divide 100 by 5! Go home and plant sweet potatoes".
I may have the looks of Audrey Hepburn, the calmly voice of Nathalie Cole. But
thats not what you can see in me. Heres a young girl who needs counsel to
enlighten her way and guidance to strenghten her life into contentment.
Honorable judge, friends and teachersis this the girl whom you commented a
juvenile delinquent?.

3.

"The

Unpardonable

Crime"

Only one living creature seemed to take any notice of his existence: this was an
old St. Bernard, who used to come and lay his big head with its mournful eyes on

Christophe's knees when Christophe was sitting on the seat in front of the house.
They would look long at each other. Christophe would not drive him away Unlike
the sick Goethe, the dog's eyes had no uneasiness for him Unlike him, he had no
desire to cry: "Go away! . . . Thou goblin thou shalt not catch me, whatever thou
doest!"
He asked nothing better than to be engrossed by the dog's suppliant sleepy eyes
and to help the beast: he felt that there must be behind them an imprisoned soul
imploring
his
aid.
In those hours when he was weak with suffering, torn alive away from life, devoid
of human egoism, he saw the victims of men, the field of battle in which man
triumphed in the bloody slaughter of all other creatures: and his heart was filled
with pity and horror. Even in the days when he had been happy he had always
loved the beasts: he had never been able to bear cruelty towards them: he had
always had a detestation of sport, which he had never dared to express for fear of
ridicule: but his feeling of repulsion had been the secret cause of the apparently
inexplicable feeling of dislike he had had for certain men: he had never been able
to admit to his friendship a man who could kill an animal for pleasure. It was not
sentimentality: no one knew better than he that life is based on suffering and
infinite cruelty: no man can live without making others suffer. It is no use closing
our eyes and fobbing ourselves off with words. It is no use either coming to the
conclusion that we must renounce life and sniveling like children. No. We must kill
to live, if, at the time, there is no other means of living. But the man who kills for
the sake of killing is a miscreant. An unconscious miscreant, I know. But, all the
same, a miscreant. The continual endeavor of man should be to lessen the sum of
suffering
and
cruelty:
that
is
the
first
duty
of
humanity.
In ordinary life those ideas remained buried in Christophe's inmost heart. He
refused to think of them. What was the good? What could he do? He had to be
Christophe, he had to accomplish his work, live at all costs, live at the cost of the
weak. ... It was not he who had made the universe. . . . Better not think of it,
better
not
think
of
it.
...
But when unhappiness had dragged him down, him, too, to the level of the
vanquished, he had to think of these things. Only a little while ago he had blamed
Olivier for plunging into futile remorse and vain compassion for all the
wretchedness that men suffer and inflict. Now he went even farther: with all the
vehemence of his mighty nature he probed to the depths of the tragedy of the
universe: he suffered all the sufferings of the world, and was left raw and
bleeding. He could not think of the animals without shuddering in anguish. He
looked into the eyes of the beasts and saw there a soul like his own, a soul which
could
not
speak:
but
the
eyes
cried
for
it:
"What have I done to you? Why do you hurt me?" He could not bear to see the
most ordinary sights that he had seen hundreds of times a calf crying in a
wicker pen, with its big, protruding eyes, with their bluish whites and pink lids,
and white lashes, its curly white tufts on its forehead, its purple snout, its knockkneed legs:a lamb being carried by a peasant with its four legs tied together,

hanging head down, trying to hold its head up, moaning like a child, bleating and
lolling its gray tongue:fowls huddled together in a basket:the distant squeals
of a pig being bled to death:a fish being cleaned on the kitchen-table. . . . The
nameless tortures which men inflict on such innocent creatures made his heart
ache. Grant animals a ray of reason, imagine what a frightful nightmare the world
is to them: a dream of cold-blooded men, blind and deaf, cutting their throats,
slitting them open, gutting them, cutting them into pieces, cooking them alive,
sometimes laughing at them and their contortions as they writhe in agony. Is
there anything more atrocious among the cannibals of Africa? To a man whose
mind is free there is something even more intolerable in the sufferings of animals
than in the sufferings of men. For with the latter it is at least admitted that
suffering is evil and that the man who causes it is a criminal. But thousands of
animals are uselessly butchered every day without a shadow of remorse. If any
man were to refer to it, he would be thought ridiculous.And that is the
unpardonable crime. That alone is the justification of all that men may suffer. It
cries vengeance upon God. If there exists a good God, then even the most humble
of living things must be saved. If God is good only to the strong, if there is no
justice for the weak and lowly, for the poor creatures who are offered up as a
sacrifice to humanity, then there is no such thing as goodness, no such thing as
justice.

4.

"No

Pardon

For

Me"

I'm

sentenced.

Sentenced
of
I
it
just
dangling

to
can
out
there

There
no

will
stay

My
for
My
I
broke
have
to

life
crimes

There
no
The
quick

life

in

this

see
hangs
my
a

in
be

the
finger's
mock
of

no

pardon
this

of
has
I

dank

did

penalty
followed

for

convicted
not
meted
every

no
more
society's

chance
jurors

was
for

than

paid
shun
no

me
were

fair
plead

to
sent
to

my
upon

my
from

cell
misery.
keythere,
reach,
freedom.
me,
execution.
me
commit.
out.
rule,
laws,
fines
me.
trial,
case.
hell,
judgement

and
as

showed
they

Life/Death,
Its
all
I
the
while
for

read
what
the

am

does

LET

"The
THIS

victim,
away,
time
me.

hounds
they'd
attemp
and
barbed
painful
to
would
scent
my

release,
escape,
wires
scale
fear.

sit
the

for
seep

this
mere
gotten
the
against

I
for

matter?
prison.

the

the

day
longest
flow
within'

That
lethal
that
will
finally
of a soul so wrongfully convicted to die.

5.

in

has
do
crimes

I
can't
escape
should
I
for
the
walls
are
too
and
the
hounds

mercy
verdict.

it

same

but
criminal
I
fate's

So
waiting...
waiting
that
waiting
to

no
their

Plea

of

PRECIOUS

here,

they

walk

of

me
mile,
poison
veins.

their
my

end

an

injection
misery

this

Aborted
ANGELS

Fetus"
LIVE

"SET ME FREE. LET ME LIVE, I DESERVE TO BE BORN, I WANT TO LIVE. FOR

HEAVENS
SAKE,
HAVE
PITY."
Ladies and Gentlemen, dear fathers and mother, listen to my plea, listen to my
story. I could have been the 17th Lady President of the Philippines Republic, had
you given me the chance to live, had you not deprived me of my life, had you not
taken
away
my
privilege
to
be
born.
Some eleven years ago, a healthy ovum started to generate in the womb of a
woman with six other children. My coming should be a herald of joy, a symbol of
love incarnate but to my mommy it was a burden, a problem, an additional mouth
to feed. To Dad, it was a mistake, an effect of Mom's carelessness for not taking
the
contraceptive
pills.
One gloomy day in June, my unexpected coming was confirmed. It was a painful

decision. I could sense the imminent danger as Mom got inside the abortion room.
I was an unwanted child. No one loved me. No one cared. I was a rejected being, a
tiny lump slowly forming into human being with human soul. I was already alive,
kicking, struggling. My heart was already beating and my thumb had already the
unique mark. As I was holding to my mother's womb a splash of heat came all
over
me.
I
writhed
in
extreme
pain.
-- "Mom, why have you done this to me? Am I not the flesh of your own flesh, the
blood
of
your
own
blood?"
The rubber suction caught my tiny limbs and mercilessly twisted it slowly cutting
it from my body. I struggled for my life. 1,2,3 and the first part of me came out.
-- "Mom, why have you permitted this? Am I not Dad's pledge of love to you?"
Then it was followed by another rubber suction sucking the other part moving it
with
force
until
both
were
fully
amputated.
-- "Mom, why have you done this to me? Am I not God's image you promised to
love
and
protect?"
Then i felt shaken once, twice, several times until I do not know anymore what
has
been
going
around.
I
gushed
forth
my
last
breath...
Then came the final blow, my head - the abortionist termed as No. I was totally
cut
from
my
torso:
total
annihilation.
GONE

IS

MY

CHANCE

TO

LEAD

HEALTHY

NORMAL

LIFE.

GONE IS MY CHANCE TO BEHOLD THE MANY LOVELY THINGS GOD CREATED FOR
US.
GONE IS THE PROMISE OF A BLISSFUL LIFE.

6.

"I

Killed

Her"

I killed her because I do love her. These hands, these hands that gave life to
many,
killed
her
because
of
my
love
for
her.
Ladies and Gentlemen of this honorable court, please listen to me, listen to my
story before you give my verdict. I am Dr. Reyes, a cancer specialist. I was born in
a slum district of Batalon. My father oh! I don't know him for I am a child of faith.
My mother brought me up in such determination and my ambition was to escape
the filthy and horrible place of Batalon. I was nourished with hope that someday I
might live a life different from her. My mother had a burning faith that she turned
the nights into days. All her efforts were not in vain for I pushed through with

flying colors. My mother who had given her whole life to me had tears in her eyes
as
she
pinned
the
gold
medal
on
my
proud
chest.
Later on, I was sent as a scholar of the Philippines to the United States of
America. I embraced my mother tightly as I've reached the plane.."Mother,
mother,.." I whispered. You will always be my best mother in the world.
After four years, I came back with laurels. I became a cancer specialist. I gave my
mother everything but I was too late. I who had used to ease the pain of many,
came too late for the life of my dying mother. I gave the best treatment but the
grasp of death was so tight around her. My God, what is the use of ten years of
study
if
I
couldn't
even
use
it
at
my
mother's
pain.
Then one night, I heard a strange cry. I run to her room. "Do you love me, child?"
she asked, as I embrace her. " Yes, mother.. If only I could get all your pain and
agonies"
"

Then..

"But,

if

mother,

you
I

love

me,

end

promise

to

my

sufferings,

give

life

kill

and

me
not

Let
to

me

die."

end

it."

God. She did not deserve the unhappiness. She deserves to be happy.
I

run

"Mother,

to

my

forgive

room
me.

and
God,

came

back

please

with

syringe.

understand

me."

"Mother, mother, you must not die.. Don't leave, I love you. It was only a
distilled
water..Mother
Mother.
MOTHER"
Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, give me your verdict. Yes, it was only distilled water
which
ended
the
sufferings
of
my
mother.
Judge

me..

Punish

me

GO, punish me.. Thy will be done!!

7.

Conscience

I wept, I cried so hard. But this tears cant bring back my sister to life. My being
brought here by my conscience. I want to ask forgiveness. But can she still hear?
O heart, forgive me for what I have done, please bring peace to mind.
Dry leaves were crushed down below. As if to freshen my memories that her life
perished
because
of
my
selfishness.

She was my only sister. Since our childhood, I always believed that I was the
favorite of our dad. One night, while I was facing all about to the mirror, with my
micro mini, I puffed powder, when I saw Luisas face, reflecting in the mirror. "You
cant get out tonight, Lucille." I heard a threatening tone from her. I turned to her,
but I cant resist at her sharp stare at me. "And who says so, my dear sister?" "We
are to celebrate Mommas death anniversary, you know that dont you?" In a
relaxed and condescending voice, I replied "well I dont care. Im going out to
party
tonight!"
Then I heard a knock on the door. I shouted "Help Papa!" for I knew that it was he.
I pulled my hair, I tore my dress away as I was attacked by a squad of monstrous
creatures. When the door opened the site Papa saw was that Luisa was holding
my neck who was trying to make a rescue. But I cried so hard that made Papa
grew to the height of anger. He threw Luisa to the corner, where the head of my
poor
sister
was
hit
at
the
edge
of
the
chair.
I slowly rejoiced for I have made a successful revenge. But when she lifted, I saw
a different sparkle in her tearful eyes. "Ha ha ha ha ha!" O my, Luisa, she went
out of her mind. I was not able to move, as well as Papa. Both of us were
motionless. And before we returned to our senses, Luisa ran to the door and
proceeded to the open gate of our house. We followed her calling out her name.
"Luisa!" "Sister!" "Luisa" "Sister" "Luisa the Truck!" "Dont cross the road, Luisa,
the
truck
dont
Dont
DONT!"
The next sight I saw was that Luisa was thrown five meters away from the truck. I
ran to her and embraced her. Blood was all over her face. In a low but distinct
voice she murmured, that made my heart break so much. She said, "Lucille,
please be a good girl. I love you. Please be a good girl coz Papa loves you very
much."
"Luisa? Luisa? Sister sister!!!" From that moment I cried so hard for killing my
only sister, who loved and cared for me, even at the last moment of her life.
Now can you blame me, for asking God to forgive me? Forgive me dear God,
Forgive me!

8.

Am

to

be

Blamed?

Theyre chasing me, theyre 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, youll do it,
wont you Captain? What? you wont still believe in me?. Come and Ill show you a
dilapidated
shanty
by
a
railroad.
Mother, mother Im 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? shes already gone! Do
you hear me? shes already gone. Am I to be blamed for the things I have done?

9.

Glass

of

Cold

Water

Everybody calls me young, beautiful, wonderful. Am I? Look at my hair, my lips,

my
red
rosy
cheeks
and
a
pair
of
blinkering
eyes.
I remember, somebody says that I look like my mother that I look like my mother.
But
that
when
she
was
young.
Now, I am much lovelier than she is. Im a mortal Venus. Oops! What time is it? I
must
get
ready
for
the
party!
Beep-beep!A-huh!
"Child,

Here

they

are

are!

Yes,

you

"Hmp!

Im

still

Thats

coming!
there?"

my

mama"

"Child, are you still there? Will you please get me a glass of cold water?"
"Mama,
"Please
"Mama,
"Please
At

the

Im
child,

try

please,
child,
party,

try
I

in
to

get

try

to

to

get

danced

me

a
a

get
me
and

glass
it

glass

danced

hurry!"
of

on
of
the

cold

water."

your

own."

cold

water!"

whole

night.

You see, I cant leave the party at once. I have to danced with everybody who

proposed to me. At last, the party is over. Im very tired. Very, very tired.
So,

went

"Mama, Im home!

home
Its

to

tell

mama

what

happened.

very quiet. "Mama, Im home!" Nobody answers.

Where is she? I look for her in the sala, but shes not there. Where is she? A-huh!
In
the
kitchen!
I saw my mama, lying down on the floor, dead. With a glass on her hand. I
remember,
she
tried
to
get
it.
Oh, God, just for the glass of cold water! Mama! Mama! Oh, Mama!

10. Vengeance Is Not Ours, Its Gods

Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so
young, so thin, and so ragged.Why are you staring at me? With my eyes I cannot
see but I know that you are all staring at me. Why are you whispering to one
another? Why? Do you know my mother? Do you know my father? Did you know
me
five
years
ago?
Yes, five years of bitterness have passed. I can still remember the vast happiness
mother and I shared with each other. We were very happy indeed.
Suddenly, five loud knocks were heard on the door and a deep silence ensued. Did
the cruel Nippons discover our peaceful home? Mother ran to Fathers side
pleading. Please, Luis, hide in the cellar, there in the cellar where they cannot
find you, I pulled my fathers arm but he did not move. It seemed as though his
feet
were
glued
to
the
floor.
The door went bang and before us five ugly beasts came barging in. Are you
Captain Luis Santos? roared the ugliest of them all. Yes, said my father. You
are under arrest, said one of the beasts. They pulled father roughly away from
us.
Father
was
not
given
a
chance
to
bid
us
goodbye.
We followed them mile after mile. We were hungry and thirsty. We saw group of
Japanese eating. Oh, how our mouths watered seeing the delicious fruits they
were
eating,
Then suddenly, we heard a voice call, Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . .
Oscar. . . . Consuelo. . . . Oscar. . . . we ran towards the direction of the voice, but
it was too late. We saw father hanging on a tree. . . . dead. Oh, it was terrible. He
had been badly beaten before he died. . . . and I cried vengeance, vengeance,
vengeance! Everything went black. The next thing I knew I was nursing my poor
invalid
mother.

One day, we heard the church bell ringing ding-dong, ding-dong! It was a sign
for us to find a shelter in our hide-out, but I could not leave my invalid mother, I
tried
to
show
her
the
way
to
the
hide-out.
Suddenly, bombs started falling; airplanes were roaring overhead, canyons were
firing from everywhere. Boom, boom, boom, boom! Mother was hit. Her legs
were shattered into pieces. I took her gently in my arms and cried, Ill have
vengeance, vengeance! No, Oscar. Vengeance, its Gods, said mother.
But I cried out vengeance. I was like a pent-up volcano. Vengeance is mine not
the Lords. No, Oscar. Vengeance is not ours, its Gods these were the words
from
my
mother
before
she
died.
Mother was dead and I was blind. Vengeance is not ours? To forgive is divine but
vengeance is sweeter. That was five years ago, five years. . . .
Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so
young, so thin, and so ragged. Vengeance is not ours, its Gods. . . . Its. . . .
Gods. . Its