Some Poems to Share

So, I fell off the Slice of Life Train, and thought I would get back into gear with National Poetry Month.  Last year, I completed the Slice of Life Challenge in March AND NaPoWriMo in April.  Consistency has not been my strength, in terms of writing, this year.  But sincerity has.  I am worrying less about response and more about speaking my truth.  So, even though I have not written a poem every day this month, I do have a few to share.

List
It would take a list
to tell you what I love
a list of names
of landmarks
of lost and found
It would take a list
to tell you what i love about
moments that melted time
like when your hand and mine
rested on a common countertop
and we laughed at an inside joke
and just for that half-second I saw
your eyes stop and and soften
and i knew that you
had a list, too.

Annotation
Sometimes I want to mark you
like a book,
drag my hot pink highlighter
right across your mouth
and in your margins,
scrawl a world like
"remember" or ask
"why?"
I would underline your eyes,
comment on your fingers
and before I was done,
I would certainly circle
your heart over and over
until my pen wore away
your skin (just a bit)
and the scar might make
you remember me.

My Faults

It's all my fault

The leaves falling fast

The moon's final phase

The way the days

Never seem to last

It's all my fault

Because I believed you

Thought I had to

If you were mine

If you and I

Were tied like twine

Knotted into one mess

That would always hold

But you never were

Mine or even yours

Earthquakes have no warning

Fault lines are pretend

Until they part ways

So I blame myself

Name myself the creator

Of the day’s end

The fall into forever

Crack in the earth

Birth of our demise

Before we were we

I am the red line

Thin on the map

Miles wide across landscape

I swallowed your lies

The fault is mine. 

When I Am Supposed to be Listening to You Speak

I think about your hands,

what they hold :

the remote control,

cold bottle of beer,

the doorknob for a moment too long,

the steering wheel when all you want to do

is drive,

the ballpoint pen when all you want to do

is write. 

I think about your hands,

what they hold:

a family together

you back

up your promises

down a job

everything in your fist

but not too tight

you let it breathe until it lights 

from your palm

free, but without 

the home of you, I think.

About your hands, 

They hold. 

Word Lover

I love the language

like you

the language you lean on

to let me know something I

shouldn't, the language you

let me lick from the space between us

I love the language you leave

inside your mouth

for as long as you can

until it becomes too much

for your tongue

and the only relief is writing it down

whispering it into text, tiny letters

that tell me tell me tell me,

"I love the language. Like you."

OLW 2011

Last year was my first participating in One Little Word. I chose "discover" and while I haven't done much in a physical way (artwork, scrap booking, etc) with my word, I have definitely been coming back to it all year. Essentially, I wanted 2011 to be a year when I discovered more about myself, more about others and more about the world we live in together. As I look back on the last few months, I see discovery was all around me. I learned more about my sons -- what they need (we did love language surveys!) and what motivates them to grow. I have discovered new approaches in my classroom that have transformed not only my grading practices, but the way I view my students, my work and my craft. I have discovered even more to love about my husband, a man who makes me see things in ways I never would on my own. I have discovered that people all around me need kindness and compassion in the most profound way and I am beginning to discover how I can meet some of those needs. I have recently re-discovered my love of reading. It never left, but I was making no time to nurture it. With each book
I have read, I have discovered new questions to ask myself and new lives to carry in my heart and memory.

With "discover" as my one little word, I think I have approached this year with an increased openness which I hope will continue to grow.

Now, to choose a word for 2012... And maybe you, too?

What My Son Said

Wednesday evenings have become my most peaceful of the week. The rest of the family goes to church while I take Nicholas to football practice. For an hour and a half, I don't have to speak to anyone, keep an eye on anyone, feed anyone or take anyone to the potty. I love my job and love my family, and goodness knows I love talking, but that brief respite each week has been a blessing.

And then, I get some time with Nicholas. My middle son, he tends to be the quietest of the three, the least aggressive, the most compliant. On Wednesdays, we get time together uninterrupted by his more demanding brothers (who I love like crazy, too, of course!).

After a dinner at Subway (a shared footlong and a chocolate chip cookie) --which earned me a "You're the best mom in the world!"--we had this conversation as we drove home:
(Passing the pumpkin patch)
Nicholas: Look at all the lights. They are so pretty.
Me: They are! Maybe someday when you get married, you can have a reception with lots of white lights like those.
Nicholas: Yes, and maybe after I get married my wife and I can go to the pumpkin patch.
Me: Then you will have to get married in October.
Nicholas: On Halloween!
Me: Well, whenever you get married, the girl you choose will be so lucky.
Nicholas: I want to marry a pretty girl.
Me: Pretty is fine, but it us more important that you find a girl who is kind.
Nicholas: Boys like pretty girls, not ugly ones.
Me(starting to get a little testy): But kind is the best thing for a girl to be; pretty isn't that important.
Nicholas: Well, you are pretty and Dad married you, so I think I will find a pretty girl, too.
Me (a little less testy): Aww, you are sweet!
Nicholas: Yep, Mom, boys like pretty girls, not ugly ones and girls don't like nerdy boys. Sometimes they like boys who are popular if they only do a few nerdy things.
Me: Like what?
Nicholas: You know, like play the banjo.

I love Wednesday night.

Saying Goodbye

Summer vacation was nothing like I thought it would be and exactly what I needed it to be. At the start, I told my husband all about these great plans I had made, the daily schedule I had devised, and all I wanted to accomplish. I even had a little acronym I wanted to use as a "title" for our summer adventures. And then, I didn't do any of it. No schedule, no accomplishment, no acronym. I have to say, it was lovely. The boys and I spent hour upon hour at the pool -- beginning most of our days there and not getting properly dressed until lunchtime. We didn't rush anywhere, we didn't pack anything, and the only schedule came from the fact that the pool opened at 8, so we knew we had to wait until then to arrive. I learned amazing things about my sons, about how their minds and hearts work. Without the demands of the school year, we were free to talk, listen, and wonder together. I watched them play together, fight together and grow even closer to each other. Of course, they had their daily hourly skirmishes and there were a number of days when I thought the top of my head might actually combust in an outward display of my frustration, but those times were worth it for the moments of magic. Diving into the deep end, sprinting through the sprinklers, pizza picnics in the park and the last hours of the evening cuddled together reading books that made us cry -- we spent those long unplanned, unnamed days in love.

Now it is time for backpacks and notebooks. Lesson plans and lunchbags. I'm glad. Too much time away makes me antsy; relaxation begins to feel like laziness. I like thinking and planning and doing. But. We are two weeks into our school year, the boys and me both, and while we are adjusting well, I think we are all having a more difficult time time saying goodbye to summer this year. Or maybe, we are having a hard time saying goodbye to each other.

What Days This Summer Taste Like

Do you ever have those moments when you wish you could snap your fingers and instantly record exactly what was happening?  I had two of those this week and I have to write them down before they become part of the blur that characterizes my child-rearing years.

The first moment involved Nicholas, my middle son.  I wrote last summer about his reluctance to swim and the breakthrough he had when he finally learned to dunk his head under the water and swim with a flotation device.  Due to a relatively cool June, our pool time hasn't been very consistent, but the last couple of weeks have given us the chance to get into our morning pool ritual.  After a few days, Nicholas asked me, "Why can't I swim yet?" I reminded him that he had refused for the last two summers to allow me to teach him.  "Are you ready to learn now?" I asked.  He definitely was.  After a few minutes practicing kicks at the side of the pool and reminding him to make his arms like big spaghetti spoons, he was ready to try.  He pushed off from the pool's steps, and with that, he was swimming!  Just a few feet at first, but by the end of the hour, he was really getting the hang of it.  Only three days later, he is jumping into the deep end and swimming to the sides all on his own. He still needs to keep practicing and improving, but he is now a swimmer.  On that first day, he looked at me with his wet, shaggy hair falling across his eyes and a smile that could not get any wider and said, "I am so proud of myself!"  My heart must have tripled in size. After years of watching him wrestle with the desire to dive in and the fear that held him back, I couldn't help but have a few tears fall as he reveled in his success.

The second moment this week happened just a couple of hours ago.  I was reading to the boys from Because of Winn-Dixie by Katie DiCamillo, a book none of us has read before.  We haven't even seen the movie, so each night's reading is a fresh experience for all of us.  After a few chapters, particularly sorrow-filled chapters, I finished up and went to kiss my oldest son good night.  He said, "Mom, I think I might be too sad to fall asleep."  It isn't out of character for Michael to be strongly impacted by the situations in a book or movie; in fact, it happens regularly, but tonight, I asked him, "Do you know why it is good for us to read stories even though they make us sad?"  He shook his head and I continued, "Because when we read what other people go through, even thought it is hard and might make us sad, it makes us better able to love people in real life because we understand them better.  Reading stories that make us feel helps us be better people.  Does that make sense?" He understood and we chatted in whispers a bit more about how books do this.  Michael is a challenging boy, but his heart is about as tender as it could be.  I told him that if we keep reading books together, the things he struggles with will become easier to control.  That boy's sleepy eyes and soft smile made me want to lay down right next to him so we could fall into dreams together.  Alas, laundry beckoned and so I sang him a requested lullaby, turned out the lights and left the room where my three boys lay fast asleep.

Funny how the chapters we read in Because of Winn-Dixie tonight were the ones about the candy made with sweetness and sorrow.  Root beer, strawberry and melancholy all swirled together-- I know exactly what that tastes like.

PS: I didn't mean to ignore Lucas in this post; I'm sure I will share a story about his antics/poignant moments this summer soon!

Discover, Drive and Living the Dream

In January I chose "discover" as my OLW (One Little Word) for the year and over the last six months I have constantly had the word on my mind.  I anticipated a year filled with physical discoveries -- new places to visit or new activities to engage in -- but the reality has been discovery of a different sort.  I have found myself discovering an emotional strength I didn't know I had.  I have discovered that some of the qualities I thought were my weaknesses are actually the ones that make me most effective, and in turn, the qualities I thought were my best, might actually be the ones that lead me to my struggles. I think the most important discovery I have made is that I am not the only one. ever.  In any way.  No matter what challenges I face, there are others in the world facing the same ones.  And there are others who have survived these challenges and emerged better because of them.  No matter what success I may have, there are others who have had it, too.  So, I'm not so special.  Or at least, no more or less special than anyone else.  That has been a humbling, comforting discovery for me.

As I have sought to understand myself and my place in the world better, I have been doing some reading. One book I am currently about halfway through is Daniel Pink's Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us.  I have always claimed that teaching is my calling and I have often wondered why it brings me such a deep sense of satisfaction.  I know part of this comes from the relationships with students and seeing them grow and learn, but now I believe part of the joy I get from teaching comes from the autonomy and opportunity to pursue mastery that teaching affords.  Pink says, "Greatness and nearsightedness are incompatible. Meaningful achievement depends on lifting one's sights and pushing toward the horizon." Teaching gives me the chance every day to do that, to push toward the horizon. 


A number of my former students are making this discovery for themselves and beginning to pursue careers which will allow them the autonomy, mastery and purpose that Pink describes as essential for our motivation. I think what they are doing is so wonderful that I had to share.  I have two young ladies I would like to highlight today.



MoDa Specialty Cakes 

The first is Vickie Ramirez who has co-founded MoDa Specialty Cakes with her mother, Lorna.  Vickie recently graduated with her Masters of Business degree from Azusa Pacific University and she and her mother run the bakery out of their home. This  is a very special family and I know the kind of love these women have in their hearts and you can see it in the work that they do. You can check out the MoDa Specialty Cakes Facebook page to see even more pictures of their delicious work.


Marissa K. Fine Art Photography 

 

 Another talented young woman I would like to tell you about is Marissa Andronicos who runs her own photography business, Marissa K. Fine Art Photography.  Marissa is a student at Point Loma Nazarene University, but her business has really grown out of a passion only recently discovered.  The work Marissa does is absolutely stunning.  She has experience with weddings, engagement shoots, senior pictures and family portraits.  I love seeing how she experiments with a variety of locations, props, and poses.  No two shoots look the same because Marissa challenges herself to grow as a photographer with each shoot she completes. One of my favorites was her Huck Finn-inspired shoot.  Marissa is a very smart, gifted young lady.  You can check out her portfolio and follow her blog to see more of her fantastic work.

I hope I can feature more of my former students in the future as they begin discovering what drives them and as the dreams they have for themselves are revealed and then realized.  Thanks to Vickie and Marissa for being willing to share their work!

As the year goes on, I cannot imagine that "discover" will not be a part of my experiences.  I am eager to see how that one little word guides me, impacts me and colors my vision of myself, and the life I live in this wonderful world.

Anybody else seeing their OLW make a difference in their lives?

PS: Is that little jellybean in the pics above not the sweetest??  She is such a doll!

Summer Success

Summer vacation is terrific -- let's start with that.  No alarm clock in the morning, time with my family, sunshine and poolside and spur-of-the-moment picnics all make summer wonderful.  But, it has some pressure associated with it, too.  Everyone wants summer vacation to be all we have hoped for, to meet all the expectations we place on it as we plow through October and March.  Super busy during the school year, I look to summer as a needed escape, but also a time to catch up on everything I have let slide.  So,I struggle with balancing a healthy dose of relaxation with taking advantage of the extra time summer allows me.  I have so many projects, activities, chores I would like to do, but I also know that I need to enjoy a bit of summer's slower pace and simpler fare.  On days when I spend all my time busy and productive, I feel accomplished, but then I fear the first day of school will arrive and I will not have renewed myself in a way that will allow me to begin teaching from my best place.

To help me with this, I thought a list might work wonders (Doesn't a list almost always make things better?).  If I can look at my growing list of summer successes maybe those feelings of slovenly guilt will subside.  Maybe. Plus, just making the list makes me feel a bit less lazy and a bit more accomplished.  I am curious to see what the list will include once August 9th arrives.  Hopefully, it will make me smile.  And then I will know the summer was perfect.

Last Day of School

On my last day of teaching this school year (remarkably it has been almost two weeks since then!) I received a number of kind, sincere letters from my students.  As I read them, I cried.  And then I wrote:


I'm supposed to be grading papers.  I am supposed to be finalizing grades.  I am supposed to be cleaning my classroom and packing things away for the summer.  Instead, I had to sit down and write.  I had to sit down and share with somebody, anybody, everybody, how incredibly powerful the teaching experience is. 


My classroom is quiet, for what feels like the first time this year, and I have been sitting and reading thank you letters from students.  And when the tears started falling, I knew I had to capture this feeling.


The work I do is the good work. It is work that sometimes feels like not working at all because it is so natural.  It is simply one person guiding another person for a short time as they journey through life.  It is beckoning the child over, holding the hand, sharing anecdotes and wisdom and warnings and praise.And then it is listening.  To what they say, to what they don't. To the music they don't always know their words produce.


And other days it is the work of mules and oxen. It is the harvest.  It is pushing from behind, pulling from the front, leading by example and digging in my heels.  I try on those days not to let the strain show.  I try to still hold the hands, listen and encourage.  Not only for them, but for me.




I would be lying if I said I do it all for them.  I want such wonderful lives for them; I want them to be reflective and kind, thoughtful and giving, bright and resourceful.  But, I also do it for me.  I do it because it brings me unspeakable joy.


 So, today, as I read the most poignant words from the special students I have been blessed to call mine, I feel undeserving.  How could they be so sweet and so appreciative and so affected by someone who is just doing what brings her joy?

I will definitely enjoy my summer, a little more sleep and lots more time with my boys and my husband.  But I also love summer because it gives me more time for thinking and reflecting and filling my head and heart back up so I have even more to give when school begins again in August.   Can't wait!

I'm Sneaky!

If you'd like to check out my surprise blog post for my husband's birthday, click here and join in the celebration!

#Poemaday 30: Be Careful

Wow, I am so excited that I have made it to the end of the month! It has been a delightful challenge and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

So here is today's offering in response to such a stirring photo.  Thanks to Bud Hunt for all of the inspiration this month.

Be Careful
Be careful, young man, of the footprints you make.
They leave a path for others to follow
and a map of where you have been.

Be careful, young man, of the shadows you cast.
They stretch and shrink with the sun
but they are always shaped by you.

Be careful, young man, of the water's edge you walk.
Some waves can inspire you toward the horizon;
others will tempt you, then tug you under.

Be careful, young man, of words like these.
They are the truth of a life foolishly, wonderfully lived,
and nothing could be better.

#Poemaday 29: Proximity

 Prompt #29's picture was beautiful, and it made me think about community.


Proximity

We can put our hands through our neigbors' windows,
no glass or distance to keep us out.
So, when the words start,
they paper our walls, too.

Sometimes they fly in short hard bursts,
no crescendo only banging like cymbals.
We flinch, then look at each other,
embarrassed that we heard.

Sometimes the words are low and soft.
Those are harder to hear, but we crave them.
We stretch our necks a bit
to catch something of the heavy sweetness.

Always we hear,
but when we speak,
we forget
there are walls to paper in other homes, too.

#Poemaday 25: More Than Nothing

More Than Nothing 

(response to @budtheteacher's prompt #26 )

Yesterday's future holds

me back, holds me

in a weighty embrace

the spirit is love

but the truth is nothing

more than nothing.

Yesterday's future stares

back at me, holds me

in a fragile game of 

do not blink

because if you do 

the game is over

and the eyes close

under the pressure.

Yesterday's future speaks

such kind and hopeful words

like we can, yet we never do

more than nothing

and the truth is nothing

holds me back

but you and me

and yesterday

and the future.

#Poemaday 25: Dance

I can't believe April is already coming to an end!  What will I do without @budtheteacher's nudge each day? Sigh.

Here is my Poemaday #25:

Dance
Dance toward your fear
make it your partner
and feel it against you.
The scent of your neck
warm honeysuckle serenading
you both into peace.
Dance toward your fear
make beauty where there is
only a thread of light
Spin white circles
til heavy breathing and love's
the only conversation you hear.

#Poemaday 24: Parachutes

A day behind, but catching up!  Here is my response to @budtheteacher's prompt #24:

Parachutes

Dandelions freckle the grass,
hundreds of wishes waiting for flight.
Small hands grab, snap them from their roots,

Blow, sprinkling the fuzz with saliva.
Seed-bearing parachutes float to a place where hope lives.

Yet, I hold the one in my hand as if it is the last.
 I question each dream that rises to my lips.
                 Whatwouldtheythink?DoIdeserveit?Whatharmmightawait?
What    harm    might    await?
And the real question is,

When did I become afraid to wish?

#Poemaday 23: The Truth

Like #22, my response to prompt #23 is pretty short, but it lives up to the title.

The Truth

When it comes to writing rituals,
for me there are only two:

Revising each line too many times,
erasing all but a few;

Pretending to think of other things,
really just thinking of you.

#Poemaday 22: Newspaper and Stares

On Friday, @budtheteacher asked: Just a place to sit and something to read.  Just that.  That’s enough? My poem as response:

Newspaper and Stares

All I need is something to read
and somewhere to sit.

In other words,

all I need is a way to escape
and somewhere to return.

#Poemaday 21: Spilled Honey

Spilled Honey
 (in response to Prompt 21)

There are days when it is my turn
not to show my face,
when it is my turn
to turn my toes toward each other,
to cover my ears with my arms,
to hide and protect
shame or fear or guilt or blame

or desire.

Head low, only empty chairs at my side
Maybe no one will know.
Maybe no one will care

and wouldn't that be the worst of it?

To carry a secret that gnaws
on your insides, leaving
the outside beautifully flawed 
and the whole world fooled?

Desire spreads like spilled honey --
indulgent liquid, slow sweet trap
drawing flies.

#Poemaday 20: For the Young

@budtheteacher continues to keep me moving forward with his engaging prompts!

For the Young
I used to think indulgence
was for the young.

Food and drink consumed
from both fists,
lanky body
sprawled across hard linoleum,
refrigerated air
massaging shoulders
bared in tank top--
No worries about
electric bills or grocery shopping,

calories or loose skin.

Now I know
(after years of  holding back)
that losing one's self in something
is a feeding of the senses.

Even losing myself to you,
indulging in your presence
begins my resurrection.

#Poemaday 18 and 19, Lesson Learned and Warning to Poets Who Write at Night

I sat at the computer last night to work on my poem, but sleep proved to be a stronger adversary than I had imagined.  Sadly, I had to go to bed before I could write.  So, the goal tonight -- double the poem fun!

#18

Lesson Learned
what do we have against empty?
the glass half so, equals pessimism
undeveloped land, bare walls, prolonged silence
each begs for filling
 --condos, knick-knacks, an awkward joke --
sacrificing quality for company.

perhaps too quickly we let empty go
when instead we should revel in the room,
the unlabeled map, the peace of no words.
instead of filling up, maybe we should be clearing out
that's what you taught me
when you left me

(intentionally blank)

(but ironically not blank at all)

you taught me
empty promises are all I have to hold.


#19
Warning for Poets Who Write at Night
Beware the words coming at you,
flinging themselves like lemmings from a cliff.
They seem too small to say anything worthy;
they dart like shooting stars burnt out before they touch the earth.
Your eyes begin to close,
even so, between eyelids and darkness
words find way to paper.
Netted fish, they squirm and jump,
trying to leap back into the night sky.
Nonsense and philosophy all at once, the words and lines are
mute planets finding their own revolution.

And just as your chin hits chest, your fingers
slide across the keyboard -- sleep seems the victor --
yet, these words proclaim:

Listen!

and then the truth comes out --
what was hidden in the sunlight
glows on midnight's stage.

Put down your weapons, let the prisoner go.
Another poem is free.

#Poemaday 17: Playthings or Poetry

Thanks to @budtheteacher for another prompt that took me in a very different direction than what I had imagined.


Playthings (or Poetry)
You are my companion on wild backyard adventures,
my solace on rainy indoor days
and in those troubled times,
my last goodnight before dreams take me into sleep.
I build with you, color with you,
pretend and pretend and pretend
with you until I am  not sure
where pretend ends and real begins.
I bounce you around
and make you tell stories,
toss you into the air
and leave you sprawled on the floor,
evidence that we are not idle,
evidence that we are working, thinking.

Picking up the loose thread of any of a thousand tales,              
each day we see the world through my wise child eyes.