Saturday, April 30, 2011

Day 30

Day 30 4/30/11
after leaving here poem

Morning Goodbyes

Waking when you are still slumbering, I
quietly make my way around the silent
house preparing for my departure. I
wish I could take you with me, pack you up
and whisk you away. But, when I leave here
you will still be sound asleep; dreaming. Your
eyelids fluttering, mouth ajar. So, I
will tuck your image into my brain pocket
and hope our separate paths cross again.



Silence Follows

After I leave here
silence will follow.
At least that's what
my husband says.



Leaving This Place Behind

She was a volcano and
when she erupted
lava oozed over and formed
metamorphic rocks.
Rocks made up of too many
harsh, slurred words.
I was forced to
pack them around.
When she left
I began slowly tossing
those rocks away.
Skipping them across
the serene lake.
A few each day, until
my pack was so light
I was able to leave
that place behind.


Departing Disneyland

Tired faces
a little sad
to see this
magical place
fade.
But even
before we're
a mile away,
they're planning
our next
trip to
this magical
land.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Friday, April 29, 2011

Day 29

Day 29 4/29/11
write an ode

Ode to Middle School

Chatter erupts and the halls swell with
nine hundred and seventy students
bumping and maneuvering around the
flocks who gather to discuss
nothing in particular but enjoy
the sounds of each others' voices.
Studious pupils rush off to class
while social butterflies peruse
the campus and converse with others.
Some refuse to obey the rules,
trickle in a little tardy,
capture attention with outbursts,
compete for the title of class clown.
Only a few tempt you to slap them
around for their sharp tongue and
quick wit, which you would never do,
but the vision is enticing.
Aah, the teenager.
Teachers complain about these unruly
beasts who are preoccupied
with Spring; the flood of emotions
accompanying the new found scent
of a girl or a boy. Other teachers,
always upbeat, discuss the amazing feat
of inspiring “that” student to rise to
the potential hovering slightly out of reach.
I could soak up every nook of this place.
The trials and triumphs I gladly embrace.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Day 28

Day 28 4/28/11
"the world without something else" poems


Without Temptation

I hear the sweet, succulent way it whispers my name
and though I know I shouldn’t partake of such indulgence
it dances enticingly through my brain; we tango
until I can’t resist, succumbing to the temptation.
Oh, if only it did not exist; did not persist in its seduction
I wouldn’t have such regret. It wouldn’t beget such guilt
when I submit to its compelling solicitation.



Without a Television

Productivity would abound
If no television could be found
My couch couldn't have a dent
And my dress wouldn't be a tent
For my rear would be a whole lot smaller
And I could stop lying about being taller




Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Day 27

Day 27 4/27/11
In the (blank) of (blank)

In the Back of My Mind

In the back of my mind there's a lingering thought
Waiting to expose me for who I am not
A whisper, a yell, an alarm that keeps beeping
I try to suppress this secret I've been keeping

If they knew the true me I stash deep inside
The scar that's so old I can easily hide
I wouldn't be the authentic me anymore
So, I'm not quite ready to open that door



In the Middle of the Thought

I knew exactly what I wanted to say
until you decided to jabber on that way.
It seemed to take forever; almost a day.
And, now I'm stuck without a thought to display,
But that's never impeded my ability to say
anything.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad


Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Day 26

Day 26 4/26/11
my attempt at two shadorma poems

First-Year Teacher

Wringing hands,
pacing the empty
classroom, she
waits for the
children to file in, take their
seats and follow.

Experienced Teacher

Steady hands,
admiring her
classroom, she
waits for the
children to file in, take their
seats and lead.


Learning to Lead

Tiny hand wrapped around your index finger
Peering up through the blaze of the sun at your face
Waiting for you to begin, so he can match your pace

Small hands tucked inside dirty overalls
Eyes scanning the road for a safe chance to pass
Not needing your lead, he followed so well; learned fast

Strong hand tucked snugly under your elbow
Misty eyes stare at his handsome, grown-up face
He leads you slowly; a perfect harmonized pace



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Monday, April 25, 2011

Day 25

Day 25 4/25/11
a poem about falling

Falling Out of Love

Years have weathered away the mountain of
love we built; turning our vows, our bond to
silt. A sigh no longer shows content, but
contempt. Lips which once whispered like a spring
breeze floating through the trees, now pelt me with
hail each time we speak. Our spark washed away
by the eroding tide, or acid rain,
only to reveal the pain. Once we fell
into love with abandon, but now we
fall out; our dreams and future forsaken.


First Falls

Crossing the room, she wobbles. Unsteady
limbs cause triumph or disaster to bloom
with each step. Confidence builds, she’s ready
to venture farther, until she falls. Boom!

Undeterred she gets up to try again,
dusts herself off and straightens her shoulders,
her new adventures about to begin.
Until she falls, tripping on life’s boulders.

She finds him and nestles into his arms
Floating on new love after one sweet kiss
She falls harder than ever. He warms
her. Each tender touch is unequaled bliss.

Until she falls. At first drowning in tears,
but she persists; too brave to fall in fear.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Day 24

Day 24 4/24/11
a prayer poem

Prayer to the Baseball Gods
By Larry Lockard

I bow my head, close my eyes, and whisper
"Please stretch that single into a double, a double into a triple.
Please don't let our bullpen blow this tenuous lead.
Please just one extra flare - just one gorp, a groundball with eyes, a dying quail.
Please lift that long flyball, let it soar.
Please shine your light down on your cathedrals.
Let your boys of summer play on into fall."

(some phrases borrowed from the movie Bull Durham)



Prayer of a Poet

Please fill me with words
which transcend the page,
touch the heart,
massage the brain,
are more than just a soulless phrase.



Funeral Prayer

Tired hands clutch the pew,
the casket is open.
Gathering around you,
loved ones whisper their love,
their regret, their goodbyes.
Too young to have left us.
We weep.
Each praying.
We grieve.



Parents' Prayer

Please, we're not
ready for our little boy to
ascend. If
You take him, you take
every
reason we have to live.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Day 23

I read about a girl who conducted a social experiment as her senior project. She faked her pregnancy to see what it was like to be be pregnant in high school. I also have a close friend who really was pregnant in high school. This poem was inspired by them.

Day 23 4/23/11
quit doing what you're doing poem

Pregnant at Sixteen

Quit condemning me with your silent stares.
Pregnant at sixteen wasn't my plan.
I walk down the hall belly leading the way
I know things have changed.
Your voices hushed as I waddle by.
Notes passed behind my back.
Pregnant at sixteen wasn't my plan; I know where I stand.
So, quit condemning me with your silent stares.
My baby is too important for me to leave from here.



Quit Searching

Quit searching for something that's just not there.
Like the other gray sock that won't reappear,
or the earring I misplaced last year,
it left without saying goodbye, I fear.



Words for My Children

Quit crying
Quit talking
Quit whining
Quit asking
Quit pushing
Quit hitting
Quit tattling
Quit yelling
Quit complaining
Quit stomping
Quit running
Quit playing
Quit ...
We're leaving.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Friday, April 22, 2011

Day 22

Day 22 4/22/11
only one in the world

One Lie

Starting as a minuscule thought
Revised and rehearsed
Effortlessly delivered
Attaching to my brain, a parasite
Devouring what was left of us.


My Child

Many words could fill the space
But not just any word will do
Quirky, honest, empathetic
artistic and dynamic, it's true.
But no, those words just don't quite
Capture the magic that is you.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Day 21

Day 21 4/21/11
a second thoughts poem


Second Thoughts

Taunted by the clock
Tick tock, tick tock.



Decisions

I have no regrets
No second thoughts
Only poor decisons
Riddling my past
Obstructing my path

I have no regrets
No second thoughts
Only precious decisions
Constructing my past
Defining my path



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Day 20

Day 20
A message in a bottle poem

Message in a Bottle

I should have placed a message in every
bottle you brought to your lips. Explaining
how space widened between us with each sip.
I would have written, “I love you. You are
worth more than a bottle of Schnapp’s. I need
you. Please stop before it’s too late!” I do
think of you from time to time. Wonder how
life is treating you and whether you think
of me, too. But, I’ve learned to live without
you. The bottle forever sealed our fate.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Day 19

Day 19 4/19/11
a love poem or an anti-love poem

Love Shouldn't Hurt Like That

Weeping, she replays the dreadful event
violence unchecked, unleashed, unasked for.
As she describes the way he struck her, each
blow more severe but felt less. Glimpsing her
child in the corner, slight frame cowering
with eyes wide and nose red from crying, his
spell is broken. The memory of her
scared, scarred child etched into her heart, her mind,
her soul. She packs bags to leave, departing
hand in tiny hand. She don't need that man.


Love Poem

Encapsulated in your rhythm
Cradled in your rhyme or not
It doesn't matter as long as we're together
You and I, entwined in words and syllables.
Touching me in the way only you can
Stroking my heart, pulsing through my mind
A spark lit with words placed precisely
Where they should be. Chosen specifically
For me. I love you, poem.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Monday, April 18, 2011

Day 18

Day 18 4/18/11
Like (blank)

Like New Love

Entangled, not knowing where one ends
and the other begins
desperate to touch and be touched.
On the phone for hours
not talking, but allowing the line
to hold us together.
Whispering your name to feel
the way it caresses my tongue
and fills me with warmth.
Now, only a memory.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Day 17

Day 17 4/17/11
a big picture poem

Motherhood

A mother beams with pride as
She watches her infant metamorphose.
From wobbling to walking to driving
From kinder to middle school to college
From friendships to dating to marriage
A mother cries with her child
Laughs with her child
Learns from her child
All the while unknowing
That her child beams with pride
Watching her mother metamorphose, too.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Day 16


Day 16 4/16/11
a snapshot poem


Subway

The humidity envelops us
Causing hair to frizz
Or hang limp.
Sweat beads, shirts cling
To moist skin.
A street performer's guitar
Begs for spare change.
Dank and foul, the
Stench stings our noses.
But our smiles eclipse the
Scene as we wait
For our train
And our adventure
To begin.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Friday, April 15, 2011

Day 15

Day 15 4/15/11
A profile poem


Too Young and Too Old

Too young and too old to truly do anything well.
She desires to curl up, like a turtle in her shell
And read a book, or write words,
Hoping for poetry or interesting prose, but
Mostly emitting emotions and thoughts.
Portraying her fears, self-reflection, and desires.

But, she is a mother first. Devotion unfading.
Watching and waiting as four
Babies begin to grow and change
Into magical people, with beauty and grace.
Individual artists blooming at break-neck pace.

There is a lot to this woman.
A wife and a mother, an educator and friend,
A writer at heart, yearning for paper and pen.
Just too young and too old to truly do anything well.
So she retreats like a turtle in a comfortable shell.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Day 14

Day 14 4/14/11
An ain't none of my business poem


What's Wrong?

Can't you tell by the fifth or sixth time
That asking me only perturbs me,
I don't want to share about
My day, or the way I feel
Even if it has to to with what you said
Or what you did.
I want to ignore it and pout just a bit,
But tomorrow I will be fine.
Please just give me a little time.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad


Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Day 13

Day 13 4/13/11
About a relationship


My Best Friend

You always knew just what to say
Where to go and where to play
You lifted me up when in misery
When I would cry and not want to be.

As time went on, I always knew
That you'd be there the whole way through.
And though time has made us drift apart
By your side I will never depart.


Other poems I wrote during our training yesterday:


The C Word (4/12/11)

How it hurts and bewilders
Anxiety growing
Like a newborn baby
Crying for help
Assistance
Growth
All needed
But how?
Scarier than most
Harder than all
But change is
Inevitable for tall
And for small.



Training Woes

I'm drowning in the verbiage
Eclipsed by the sound
Ringing and ringing loud.
Causing a covering cloud
To hover over my brain
Trapping my thoughts.
Causing my brain matter
To wither and rot.



My Pen is Broken

I am not sure what happened
It worked yesterday
Recording all the important things
I wanted to say
I wrote and I wrote until my
Hand cramped and went numb
But now my pen is lame
I guess my work is all done.



Statistics, Statistics

Oh the numbers, they are overwhelming
I see them all the time
Some are complimentary
And others fall behind
I've even seen the very same numbers
Try to persuade in a debate
It's crazy when the numbers
Are divided in their fate
So what shall we infer
From these tricky number games?
Human interpretation is the problem
I've attained.



Consistency, Consistency

The other C word
It seemed so simple in my
Undergraduate work
If you want your students to behave
Be firm and clear and concise
And remember each and every time
To do the same thing twice
Unfortunately my children have never been
The kind to do or think or be
Identically twinned



Ode to My iPad

It used to be
I was twiddling my thumbs
Or doodling in the margins
Of my note taking pad
Or even the sole of my shoe
To try to keep my mind
Focused for learning
When boredom crept up
Like a deadline
Lurking in the swamp
Waiting to chomp and
Pull me under
But now I have you
And my boredom is through.
I can search on the web
Catch up with the tweets
Talk to my friends
Check emails galore
But most important
For keeping boredom at bay
I can write 17 poems a day.



Maybe I Should Have Stayed Home

One nod of the head
A smile, obliging
A trip for the brain
Professional development
A chance to get revived
Renewed, and
Open up a new understanding
And improve learning.
But obviously it was
Not for my benefit
I haven't learned a new thing yet.
Maybe I should have stayed home.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Day 12

Day 12 4/12/11
A form poem
An Anti-form Poem


Thirty (a lune poem)

Same as yesterday
My dismay
I'm exactly the same.



Lune You Ruin

You strap me down
Box me in
I wasn't quite sure
Of where to begin
How do you capture
The most intimate things
When there are only
13 syllables for me to bring.


Form is a Snore

Never before
Has it been such a bore
To compose a poem
With wit, poise, and flow.
Oh wait that just didn't work
I thought rhyming would
be such a perk.
Irk!
This poem I must shirk.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Monday, April 11, 2011

Day 11

Day 11 4/11/11


Maybe I Shouldn't Have Finished College

Envious of mothers at home,
Sweeping the floors,
Ironing clothes
Baking cookies and pies.
I trudge to work,
A career I love,
But maybe I am too ambitious.
Maybe had I dropped out of school
I too would be in domesticated heaven.
Cuddling my babes and watching
Bad daytime TV.
Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much
Each time I leave.
Holding back tears,
As I think of the years my time
Away adds up to.
Instead each outing would feel
Deserved for my undivided
Attention and endless affection.
Maybe...



Maybe I'll Write

I need to do the laundry
Maybe I'll write
I need to wash the dishes
Maybe I'll write
The grass needs mowing
Maybe I'll write
It's time to go to work
Maybe I'll write
Dinner needs fixing
Maybe I'll write
The floor needs vacuuming
Maybe I'll write
It's time to get writing
Maybe I'll read



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Day 10

Day 10 4/10/11

Never Again

"Never again!" She hollers,
The door slamming behind her.
Tears flowing, anger growing.
She leaves forever knowing
That no one will hurt her
Deceive her, betray her
Never again...until he
Bends down on his knee
Professing all his love and desire,
"Please forgive me," he inquires.
Her mind recommends she doesn't
But her heart says, "Wasn't
This the man you swore to love
Forever and ever, above
All else, 'till death to you part."
So she offers up a fresh start
With only one caveat,
Never again, she thought.


Never Again

"Never again",
such an empty
promise
When has
anyone
ever kept it?



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Day 9

Day 9 4/9/11
A time of day poem


10:52 p.m.

Staring at the keys
Waiting for inspiration
Hoping a great poem, or at least a poem,
Will come flowing through my fingers.
But I write this instead
My poetry for today is dead.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Friday, April 8, 2011

Day 8

Day 8 4/8/11
A ready to celebrate poem


Waiting Rewards

Hours and hours of waiting.
Tormenting pain rhythmically
Driving me toward insane.
Poking and prodding
Beeping and dripping.
Until... It's time.

Sweat beading,
Panting,
Grunting,
Pushing,
Pushing,
Breathing,
Pushing,
Until...you're here.

Tears falling,
Hands grasping,
Touching your pink skin.
Pain washed from my memory
With your fist tender cry.
Marking the moment
My memories of you begin.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Day 7

Day 7 4/7/11
What If...


What If?

What if you put yourself
Out there
And no one
Responds?


Email Snooper

Why did I read your emails?
Love letters to her.
Stripping me of the shallow hope
Remaining for us.
What if I hadn't?



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Day 6

Day 6 4/6/11
Don't (blank), (blank)


Don't Just Sit There, Do Something

Bags packed by the door
Silence suffocating
His fingers hesitate a moment
Stealing a glimpse at the empty living room
She sits upstairs
Awaiting his departure
Eyes swollen but dry
He listens
Suffocating silence
Turning the knob
Grabbing his bags
Closing the door on
Them.


Don't Eat, Eat

The mirror torments me,
The scale whispers gossip about me
To my face,
I stare at my tummy
And wonder,
What got me to this place?
I make a pact with myself
Don't eat, I say.
You will be beautiful someday.
But the sauce is dripping from the barbecue
Chicken wings.
The bread is rising and filling the house
With that yeasty-come-hither smell.
I stare at my tummy,
It gurgles back at me and says,
Eat, damn it!


Don't Yell, Breathe

I return home from work to find
Dishes clinging to the sides of the sink
Trying hard not to tumble over,
Neglected for an entire day
While my husband hung out
With our son,
And I tell myself
Don't yell, breathe.

I spend the day entertaining the kids.
Pushing swings in the kid-filled park,
Buying ice cream for a treat,
Watching them run on care-free feet.
But then they ask for
A new toy
To rent a video game
And I say to myself
Don't yell, breathe.

Don't yell, breath.

Dn't yell, breathe.



Don't Watch, Participate

Withered hands steepled
Perched on a tired old bench
Face pinched and sunken
Myopic cars pass
Not noticing this lone, waiting man
Who wished he had taken
Just one chance.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Day 5

Day 5 4/5/11
1. Write a goofy poem.
Or
2. Write a serious poem.


Potty Training

For two years
You happily sat in
Squishy diapers
Filled with your own urine
And poop
You never seemed to mind at all

We had to entice
And cajole you
Into the bathroom
Where you studied your
Potty book, complete with
Noisy flushing action

The fact that it took
So much to teach you to do
Something so simple, confirms one thing
You are your father's son


Disappointment

As a five year old,
My father was my knight in shining armor
My lighthouse guiding me to safe waters
The hero of all my make-believe dreams.

At twelve,
The mysteriousness wore off and I began
To see that my father was fallible.
He was no longer the cure for all sicknesses
Or the mender of all which is broken.

By twenty,
My disappointment in my father's weaknesses
Was replaced by the realization that we are all flawed
And respect swelled for his sacrifices and selflessness
He was my mentor and friend,

Then it happened...

At twenty-eight,
His generous, caring heart stopped.
And I was disappointed
Not in my father
But in the loss of the
relationships we were yet to have.

I love you Dad.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Day 4

Day 4 4/4/11
Write a poem about a type of person


Middle School Teacher

At the end of each day she goes home with
Marker smeared on her forearms,
Disheveled hair,
A frazzled look from wrangling
150 tweens into learning,
Hoping she's inspired at least one
To pick up a book, or look
At the world in a new way,
A headache from all the self restraint
It took to hold in all the things she
Really wanted to say.

She lugs in three bags filled with
Papers to grade,
Books to read,
And lessons to plan,
But as she opens the door
Four adoring faces gather around,
Begging for her attention.
She drops the bags by the front door,
Embraces each sweet-faced child,
And heads to the kitchen.

Hours later, after homework,
Dinner, meltdowns, and tantrums,
Smiles, laughter, and learning.
Kids are tucked snugly in bed.
She curls up next to her husband
Preparing to spend some alone time.
She rifles through her almost forgotten bags,
Taking out a stack to grade,
Her husband's disappointed eyes
Shift to the television.
And they sit in silence.
Her marking up essay after essay,
Him flipping through all the ESPN channels.

She drifts to sleep
Drool about to spill onto the essays.
He gently nudges her awake
And drags her downstairs
And tucks her into bed,
So tomorrow she can wake up
And do it over all again.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Day 3

Day 3 4/3/11
Imagine the world without you


Glad I Couldn't Do It

Laughter echoes through the house
Reverberating off the walls.
Leaving the sense of excitement
Bulging like an overstuffed belly.

And I am grateful
That I was never brave enough to take my
Life; which I contemplated many times.
As my parents' fights raged,
As my mother stumbled drunkenly
Cursing and swearing,
I hated my existence.
But, I couldn't end it.

Now my four children complain
About boring, lounge-around-the-house-kind-of-days,
And bliss overwhelms me.
For I have provided the gift I always coveted,
Normalcy.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad



Day 2

Day 2 4/2/11
Postcard poem


The Tri-Cities

Sun shimmers across the wide river
Hints of green begin to sprout
The beauty of Spring makes me quiver.
Sun shimmers across the wide river
wind whispering, causing me to shiver
A wondrous time to go out
Sun shimmers across the wide river
Hints of green begin to sprout.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Day 1

Day 1 4/1/2011 "what got you here"


She Liked My Poem

Just me,
I wrote for my poetry project in 6th grade.
A poem made up of few lines,
But all the guts and inerds from my soul.
I pored over ever word and syllable,
Scared to reveal the fears and resignations I had
About me, I was afraid to let anyone see.
But I turned in that poem,
Yearning for approval and acceptance,
And maybe for my teacher to tell me
What I had written was wrong.
Maybe I wasn't just me,
Maybe there was greatness somewhere
A greatness I could not see because I was eleven.
She didn't.
She confirmed my own fears
But, she did like my poem.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Poetry Month

April is poetry month and for each day I will write to a prompt provided by Robert Lee Brewer on his "Poetic Asides" on the Writer's Digest website.


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