Home Sweet Home

The Day with Verbs

Up with the throbbing  head again

No wine to blame

stumbled out the door

into the world

locking myself out

meandered my way back in

set to work

putting things here and there

walked the dog

recycling to the bin

errands ran

dishes to the sink

clothes to the hamper

litter to the bin

walked the dog again

finished the dishes

three pills

then off to bed

little moments building a day

a life

The Good with the Bad

The day began with insomnia

drifted into lateness

and fell into despair

One found dead, the news feed reads

the reaper’s  prize

at last

sorrows grips friends

still other silent cheer the end of the road

two kids in a doctor’s office sick with the flu

 

two strangers cling to life

victims of happenstance

attended by the best

No news is good news or so the fellows say

No news is bad news worries the friends

beloved ones

Victory arrives late

lesson learned, acceptance obtained

a child born

new shoes,  credit extended ,

then end of an abusive relationship

 

No clever words need

or cliques expressed

Just another day

the good with the bad

the bad with good

perspective the only means of definition

 

 

Writing Exercise – I am Poem #1

Every nine weeks, my students write a new I-Am poem to help build  their writing portfolio and so they can see how they changed over the course of the year.  It is interesting to read them because often times even though they know that their poems will be read by me they confess little truths about themselves.  The format is simple and can be altered easily to let them express themselves more freely.  Tonight, I decided to write my own to get my creative thoughts flowing. 

I am tired and burnt out

I wonder if I will ever cease being living in a state of permanent exhaustion

I hear the not so quiet sounds of students working

I see myself getting older and wondering where all the time went

I want to do so much more than I am

I am constantly working to find a way out

I pretend that I have it handle, but I’ve never really been good at this game

I believe there has to be a way, a better way than the one I am living

I touch the brace on my leg and count the days until it is off

I feel the pain between my shoulder blades taunting me

I worry that there will never be another book and the thing my body has become will be permanent

I cry too often

I understand the cycle and know that tomorrow or tonight I will find my fight again.

I am myself and this is only temporary

A poem without a name

Stop the madness

the relentless drive to

be comfortable

there is no comfort

no lasting bit of piece

no moment that will take away

all the time spent being abused

by myself or others

so many of the scars

inflicted upon our souls

are self-inflicted

Stop the madness

do more with less

and give up access

to the world of want

Want leads to desire and

desire to suffering

Currently, this poem has no name.  I would love suggesting from readers.  Submit yours below. Please and thank you. 

Blinded

blinded by smoke

scored by the heat

nothing but the most bitter fruit

left to eat

nothing left but to fight

to fight

to die

and maybe then be heard

or be seen on CNN

and misunderstood

still better than

do nothin’

being the big man’s punk

and doing my time

in the oligarch’s machine

better to go out

with a stone in my hand

than dying in an attempt to live

the promised life

 

Testing Cycle

Stuff knowledge into their heads

cramp it in there until their eyes

beg you to stop

plead with you to let them up for air

then review, review and review

some more

because they have to know it

they have to know it all

and then stuff some more into their head

Make sure they know their subjunctive clauses

from their subordinate clauses

how and when to use a semicolon

what a colonoscopy

and how an author’s background shaped

his choice of dessert or

the fifth word in the second stanza

they want to learn

need to know how to think

so the next command is to

challenge

but not too much

or too little

Shove them into rooms filled

computer screens

and cardboard blinders

put headphones on their minds

and figurative corks in their mouths

pray that they will rise to be wizards

and sorcerers of knowledge

let the scent of vapor cream

pry their sleep exhausted anxiety riddled minds away

for a ninety minute knowledge dump

because everything is riding on

an assessment

when they finish

prep them for the next one

rinsing and repeating until the end of school.

The end of the line, no more changes

chances or extra turns

no more thoughts of redemption

last minute saves

you used all the rope that you have been given

used it up tying knots to keep yourself from falling

but you keep slipping further and further behind

you need to save face and do what you got to do

things just pile up and weigh you down

you never get a head and everything ounce of dust

that lands on you is the one that breaks

more than camel’s back

better get going

cause the good has already got gone