A Mother's Garden of Verses

All the personality of a bar code

2011-07-05T14:38:00.000-07:00

Bars and spaces parallel

Unique, yet unnamed, and carries

Not even as much individuality as a number.

Tired of repeating the same answers,

I try to go off script.

No luck.

To this operator/ scheduler/ untitled worker I am just another account.

Anonymous.

Unimportant.

Routine.

One of many, all alike.

I am a bar code.

A featureless set of lines, unreadable by the human eye.

Scan me, I may contain information.

Data.

Feelings? Symptoms? Pain? Forget it.

Follow the script, the whole script, and only the script.

Is this any way to provide health care?

If I can get past the operator/ scheduler/ untitled worker I might be a person. Maybe.

Then again, maybe not.

Retreat

2011-06-29T14:04:00.000-07:00

In the garden

I can be me.

I can relax.

I don't have to pretend to be normal

Or fake happiness.

No plastic smiles stick on my face.

Social skills optional; the tomatoes want water, not conversation.

In the garden

I have no deadlines.

I can slowly pour the water onto the plants

Letting the moisture sink into the soil

Nourishing the plant roots below

and

Encouraging growth above ground.

In the garden

I can hold entire conversations in my head

No one need know what I'm thinking

Indeed, the talk is quite dull to most.

In the garden, my thoughts are my own

Until I decide to share them, if I share them at all.

A small plot of ground,

My garden is my retreat.

When I need a break.

The Stockpile: Ten Years Later

2011-05-02T09:09:00.000-07:00

-based on a poem written in 2002 and "inspired" by Homeland Security

Remember after the Twin Towers crashed?

Remember the panic, the advice

from government leaders

to prepare for anything, everything

by buying

Bottled water, analgesics, thermometers,
Batteries for the flashlights and radios,
And emergency rations, enough to last six weeks or more.

Remember,
Nuclear Power Plants are nearby,

Viruses are everywhere, and
Quarantine is inevitable.

But now --

Osama bin Laden is dead and his organization

weakened.

Our economy is in recession, and cash flow is very tight.

Think about it.
Closets packed with canned food,
Over-the-counter meds,
And cases of bottled water?

No.
Shop, yes. And replenish the woodpile, too.
But I’ll buy a bottle of wine
A good book,
Cheese and crackers.
Seeds and seedlings for my garden,

Not stockpiles of panic.
We’ll cozy up by the fireplace,
In our favorite blankets and quilts,
To enjoy each other,
And take care of our family.

We’ll continue living our lives.
Common sense, love and caring,
and family
Make survival after any disaster
Worthwhile.

A Very Special Author

2011-03-02T05:25:00.000-08:00

originally posted in March 2007; originally published in WSRA Journal in 1997

When we were young
And could pick up a book,
A man with a gift
Made us all take a look

At a cat with a mission,
A feline with style,
Dressed up in a hat
With a hint of beguile.

The cat made us smile,
The Grinch brought a tear.
While the Whos down in Whoville
Inspired a cheer.

Those red fish and blue fish
Or green eggs and ham
The Star Bellied Sneetches
And that Sam-I-Am

The poor little boy
Wearing five hundred hats
Got caught in the oobleck
That fell and went splat.

His stories had morals,
Were strong with conviction,
Even though written
As young readers' fiction.

A clear point of view,
The compassion he saw,
Like"...a person's a person,
No matter how small."

The elephant Horton
Who said what he meant,
That he could be faithful,
One hundred percent.

And think of the Lorax,
The one who said, "Please,
Oh, Please stop destroying
The Truffula Trees!"

His creatures were special,
Both comic and tragic,
Some small and some large,
With an aura of magic.

Think of the characters,
Ageless and timeless,
And how he could make
Something rhyme that seemed rhymeless!

The point of my story,
I'm sure you have reckoned,
Someone quite special
Was born on March second.

Creator of Yertle,
And Thidwick the Moose,
A talent unequaled:
The dear Dr. Seuss.

Recipe for a rough morning

2011-01-08T08:56:00.001-08:00

Take one dark and dreary day,

with the preceding poor night's sleep full of

Dreams that upset and confuse.

Sore eyes wanting to close,

Shoulders tense with unease.

Pick up a soft and sweet rabbit asking for a hug. Snuggle and pet.

Find lumbar pillow. Insert behind lower back in recliner.

Reach for a flavored coffee: half caffeinated, so as not to over stimulate.

Add a layer of cozy blanket throws.

Take a deep breath.

Close eyes.

Empty mind of confusion and worries.

Take another deep breath.

Rest.

2010-12-05T12:19:00.000-08:00

Happy first birthday!

It's time to open your gifts.

Then: play with the box!

Shy Violet

2010-07-08T11:20:00.000-07:00

Shy Violet was quiet,

more thoughtful than active.

Pale in appearance, her colorful side hidden to most,

The morning sun would show her loveliness

To those privileged to be allowed near.

Shy Violet had

Rainbows on the walls of her small room.

Only those who woke early enough

could enjoy an acquaintance with the inner beauty of

Shy Violet.

When I moved into my final dorm room my senior year in college, I found a small handwritten note in the desk that said "This room painted in Shy Violet." The walls appeared white except in the day time sun, when the violet shade would deepen. This was strongest around noon in winter when the sun would shine through the leafless branches of the trees on the riverbank outside my window. Midday was the only time that my hanging crystal would get enough sun to make rainbows on the light purple walls.

Beauty in simplicity

2010-04-12T06:09:00.000-07:00

My garden isn't lovely
in the conventional sense.
It is home to vegetables, not flowers.

Shades of green
With an occasional spot of color:
Golden squash blossom, yellow bean, orange and red tomatoes

But the real beauty
Among the deep green of the spinach or the deep rich brown of the composted soil
Is hearing my kids call out, with complete honesty,

"Mom's playing in the dirt again!"

Spring poems and photography

2010-03-10T17:38:00.000-08:00

Please visit Spring, a creation of a fellow gardener and poet.

2010-02-12T16:56:00.001-08:00

Blooming Field Drive has neither
Fields
nor blooms.

Foxglove Lane is a lane,
maybe
If a lane leads to a strip of condominiums
where the closest thing to a foxglove
is the digitalis in a medicine cabinet.

Who had the brilliant idea
to replace a Blooming Field,
a thriving prairie
of diverse and beautiful grasses and flowers
with large boxy houses painted gray
and name it after the previous tenant -
the Field,
with its lovely, now deceased,
Blooms.

Thanksgiving in Haiku

2009-11-27T06:05:00.000-08:00

Turkey, stuffing, rice
Wine and coffee to wash it down
Then it's time for pie.

Preparation means
Several days of cooking
Cleaning and and the rest.

When we're done eating,
The leftovers in the fridge,
The coffee beckons.

Stinky HTML.

2009-04-10T07:58:00.000-07:00

That HTML

Keeps on running my Haiku

Series together.

I put paragraph

Breaks in between each stanza

But they still stay stuck!

So, HTML,

When will you let me do this

Right without cursing?

Spring Break R & R

2009-04-03T12:20:00.000-07:00

Relaxation is

The true meaning of spring break

Sit down and relax.

Renewal can be

The other part of this time

So get to work now!

I cleared the garden soil,

Moved the cages and trellis'

Enough for today.

Back to relaxing.

Reading blogs, Plurk, and Twitter;

Laptop is my friend.

Battle

2009-03-28T16:38:00.000-07:00

The invader is armed with
Viral strength
Gripping power
Knowledge of my vulnerabilities and
my stress-weakened immune system.

My defenses are limited.
Waterbottle mixed with Airborne.
Neti pot.
Extra vitamin C.
A nap.
Determination.

Heating pad for my aches,
Anti-inflammatories to lessen the fever and soreness
Apple cider with cinnamon stick for comfort and hope --
Hope for a good night's rest to re-energize and fight the invader again tomorrow.

Spring Fever

2009-03-13T18:18:00.000-07:00

When will spring break come?

My students are ready now.

So, also, am I.

Where I'm From

2009-03-05T05:18:00.000-08:00

(inspired by a post at The Little Egg Farm)

I'm from city sidewalks, the kind that need shoveling in winter and grow hot enough to blister bare feet in summer.

I'm from four distinct seasons. I'm from vehicles with heat and air-conditioning, in a climate where both need to be in working order.

I'm from trees of all sizes, giving shade in summer, giving leaves in autumn and if we're lucky, maple sap for sugar and syrup in spring. I'm from climbing thick branches, seeing old behemoths fall in storms to become fuel for the fireplace around which we gather.

I'm from snowmen, snow angels, and dangling icicles, spreading rock salt and litter and sand when walking becomes precarious. I'm from mittens and boots, gloves and scarves, lined jackets thick enough to withstand any wind.

I'm from earth such rich, dark brown it's almost black, grass so very green when it rains, and flowers of every hue; fresh vegetables in August, rhubarb from the freezer in January, and homegrown basil and thyme in pots on the piano all year round.

I'm from chalkboards, pencils, and multi-colored pens. I'm from reusing papers and copying half sheets on the back of old pages. I'm from books to read, stories to write, experiments to explore.

I'm from the arts, music, drama, storytelling, and the multitudes of venues for self-expression.

I'm from song and dance, stage and scenery, prose and poetry. I'm from rhythm and rhyme, andante to allegro, opera to jazz, vocal to orchestral to symphonic brass.

I'm from the land of Green and Gold, a home with at least one headpiece made of "cheese," and Sunday afternoons spent with the big screen TV tuned to Lambeau Leaps at the not-so Frozen Tundra.

I'm from a homeland where hearing, seeing, and neurotypical development are never taken for granted.

I'm from a land where all the women are strong, the men are good-looking, and the children are above average. Wait - strike that, it's one state to the west of mine.

But I am from a changing and evolving local culture, a place where family counts, a neighborhood where neighbors share their cookies and coffee. It's a great place to visit, and I wouldn't want to live anywhere else.

Friday before Valentine's Day

2009-02-13T15:03:00.000-08:00

Valentine parties

In classes should be outlawed

Elementary.

Chocolate, sugar,

Lifesavers and nerds and those

Conversation hearts

Make fourth grade students

Resemble bouncing, flouncing

Rubber super balls.

2009-02-06T07:06:00.000-08:00

Pink sunglasses on

My outlook becomes sunnier

So I keep them on.

I Eat Pizza (the dreaded IEP)

2009-01-30T14:14:00.000-08:00

IEP Season
Fighting for what's right
In education.

Asperger's Syndrome
Doesn't doesn't make
Anything come easily.

Blindness means Braille books
And talking calculators
But Asperger's - What?

Here we go again
On the roller coaster ride
Of an IEP.

Generosity

2009-01-24T08:50:00.000-08:00

Loving husband and son

Not wanting to leave me out

Shared their germs; a-choo!

Recipe for an Historic Inauguration

2009-01-20T06:38:00.000-08:00

Take one republic, preheated by
War
Poverty and
Health care crises.
Blend worries, industry failures, job losses
Top with slashed budgets and crashing morale.
Mix dedicated candidates with
Intelligence
Experience
Passion.
Nurture from deep grass roots
Seek hope, change, and motivation.
Beat at high speeds until competition peaks.
Organize. Volunteer. Vote.

Set aside to cool.
Season with Knowledge
Insight
Plans and ideas
Fold in global perspective,
Authentic world view.
Ship by train to nation’s capital.
Set atop quality cabinet.

Serve with courage and inspiration.

photo by La Petite at a rally last June

Haiku Friday: weather

2009-01-16T11:20:00.001-08:00

Temperatures rising

Might actually reach zero

Unbelievable.

Deceptive sunshine.

Makes the world shine so brightly

Yet warms not a thing.

Grateful to be home
Not worried about car's ills
Just keeping heat on.

Abundance isn't

Always in the pantry stocks

Sometimes it's blankets.

Word Acrostic: Happy New Year

2009-01-01T16:06:00.000-08:00

Happy is a relative term. Old or

New, calendars still read one month at a time, all

Year long.

Experiments in Pensieve form

2008-12-13T19:19:00.000-08:00

Stranded

I squint through driving snow

Stale engine air provides welcome heat

While we listen to the updated road report.

Cold wind cuts through my thick parka as we take shelter

A styrofoam cup of hot decaf provides welcome relief.

Bells

Silver, gold, or red and green

Bring joy to the voices raised in song

On the smooth leather harnesses or long, rough belfry ropes

Jingling and clanging and ringing out the good news

For unto us a child is born!

Nightfall

2008-11-08T17:08:00.000-08:00

At once
With little warning
The sun leaves us, taking with her the light.
Without stopping at Navy blue,
The moon pulls the lavender blanket from the sky,
Cloaking the Earth in black.

school days blues

2008-09-09T18:15:00.001-07:00

Got a sniffle, a trickle down the back of my throat
Got a little sniffle, a dry itch in the back of my throat
It's just school starting, on a tired and run-down note.

Pushing all day, feeling like I'm all worn out
Moving and shaking all day, all my energy's drained out.
It's the start of school, and my getupandgo's got up and got out.

I've got the blues
(insert guitar lick here, if I played guitar)
The reach for a vitamin C and a cup of Airborne blues.
I've got the blues (more guitar, maybe a little piano bass)
The rundown immune system blues
I've got lesson plans to write and papers to grade --
And I've got the run-down school starting immune system blues.

The Ensemble

2008-05-24T17:00:00.000-07:00

Click- click- click- click- click
Heels.
Shuffle, shuffle, slip, pad, pad,
Tiptoe, tiptoe, bounce and flounce
Ballet flats. Mary Janes.
Flip, flip, flip, flip, flip, flip
Flip flops.
Woooooooosh!
Cross trainers!

Pumps, slingbacks, high heels and low.
Walkers unused to the elevation wobble and lean,
Give in and walk through halls in their stockings or bare feet,
Donning the dressy shoes for the actual moments of their performances.
Ballet flats in more than black
Keep time with updated Mary Janes in shiny patent leather
Or plain but perfect matte finish.
Dresses, skirts, and at times casual but pretty capris
Accompanied by their footwear
as their wearers are accompanied by the piano
Create an ensemble of like -- or unlike -- fashion.

This post was created and inspired by Scribbit's Write Away Contest for May on the topic of (you guessed it) Shoes. It is cross-posted at Compost Happens.

Dreams of a Mother

2008-05-13T14:34:00.000-07:00

I dream that differences will be valued, not disdained.
Eye color, hair color, body shapes, and skin shades will be appreciated for their beauty and variety.
Cultural traditions will not disappear, but will thrive and grow together into a rich and fascinating sharing of knowledge and beliefs.
I dream that blindness will be merely a different way of seeing, and deafness impair only the quantity, not the quality of the language 'heard'.
Children will matter because they own the future. Their education, academic and social, will become and remain of utmost importance.
Mediators and the peacemakers will be recognized as the strongest leaders.
Questions will come from curiosity, not ignorance, and the answers will breed respect.
Knowing each other, knowing ourselves, will lead to knowing that fights and conflicts, wars of all kinds, will cease to be of value.

April flowers bring...Wait. Strike that, reverse it.

2008-04-04T17:31:00.001-07:00

Spring has sprung

The grass has riz

I wonder where

The flowers is?

But if I know

Just where to seek

A little greeny

Might just peek

'Cause spring has sprung

Despite deep snow

And hardy crocus

Still will grow!!

Heck, we can't all be Naomi Nye or Billy Collins. :)

Haiku with apologies to Weird Al

2008-03-26T19:34:00.000-07:00

I slaved by the stove
Creating a balanced meal
Eat it, just eat it.

Lean meat and veggies
Put a salad on the side
Don't want Leftovers.

New recipes stink.
If you don't like it today
Eat it tomorrow.

Amazing what happens when I demo for the class

2008-03-11T18:31:00.000-07:00

These are partial ABC poems. Choose a letter from the alphabet and the four letters that follow. Write an acrostic using those letters. Here are a couple of examples.

Winter in Wisconsin
Extreme weather
Frost
Great sledding
Hills of snow
Icicles

Recess
Leaping
Making
Noise
Outside
Playing

Teachers can do and teach, too.

2008-03-08T07:05:00.000-08:00

I wrote this to demonstrate/model the Acrostic Poem form for my class. They had brainstormed words pertaining to the citizenship theme of "compassion" and were preparing to write acrostic poems on the theme.
For a piece created spontaneously in front of an audience, it's not bad.

Across each line
Contains words or phrases
Rarely (really, almost never) rhymes
Only use words that make
Sense.
To write an acrostic,
It helps to think about
Compassion.
Poetry has many forms.
Others are Haiku, verse, and Cinquain.
Enjoy these examples.
Maybe you'll like this one!

Music soothes

2008-03-01T17:31:00.000-08:00

Music soothes.
Breathing slows.
Shoulders relax.
Mind is open, yet restful.
The rise and fall of a phrase shapes a melody and a memory.

Music calms.
Blood pressure settles.
Pulse steadies.
Listening continues.
Listeners smile, relax.
Rhythm draws in the body.
Lyrics reach the soul in symphony and sympathy.

Music inspires.
A voice becomes an instrument
Produces more than sound
Reaches
Touches
Connects.

And finds
Peace.

Things to neglect while ill

2008-02-15T13:09:00.000-08:00

Cleaning house -- as long as no one visits.
Laundry -- at least until someone runs out of underwear.
Redoing the fireplace mantle. It's not green and gold any more, it's hard to care.
Schedules -- it's 3:00, I suppose I'd better eat lunch before I think about supper, eh?
Cooking. That's what Lean Cuisine is for, isn't it?
Changing litter in bunny cage -- until I can't stand it any more
Opening mail -- if the pile isn't so high it falls over.
Socializing -- I don't feel social, no one wants my germs, we're even.
Quality time with teenager -- he'd rather surf YouTube anyway.
Discuss politics -- thought takes energy, one thing that really lacking in me right now.
Whining -- who wants to hear this anyway?

Chill. Just drink water, take a nap, and all will be well with the world. Eventually.

No more, please. No more.

2008-02-08T16:49:00.000-08:00

One by one
Or five by five, they fall.
Another shooting.
Real people. Real people dying, real people killing.
It's not pretend.
It's not a video game.
It's not a reality show.
It's real. They are real.
Real people with real problems
Who chose an unreal way of dealing with them.
Solve? Not.
Writers didn't create these characters.
Society did.
And society can stop them.

But how? And when?
Until then, we mourn.
Weston, Wisconsin.
Virginia Tech.
Crandon, Wisconsin.
Omaha, Nebraska.
Kirkwood, Missouri.
And more.
Until the madness stops.

Six Word Stories

2008-01-19T14:16:00.001-08:00

Six words. I found the idea through a link at Autismvox. Kristina shared the Smith site with its Six Word Stories and created one of her own. These Six Word Stories remind me of Haiku or Lune poems in their clarity and directness, although they're even shorter. Sometimes, a picture is worth exactly six words.

Small bunny, big love, our Peanut.

Shy bunny, but sweet, our Sadie.

Big bunny, spotted cowlike, that's Buttercup!

Winter Storm

2007-12-28T14:10:00.000-08:00

Snow layers on the trees
The proverbial blanket of white
Too pretty to feel cold
Takes the shape of all it covers.

Stillness, early sunset comes
All muffled by the still-falling snowflakes
Not too windy, instead,
The kind of falling snow that
Holiday parade officials wish would fall as Santa arrives.

But not Christmas, now, despite the colorful lights
Still visible in families’ windows and yards
Just a lovely steady snowfall
Coating the houses, the porches, the trees,
And sending small animals into
Shelter.

Friday haiku

2007-09-14T07:37:00.000-07:00

Sweet bunny still young
Died under anesthesia
Earlier today.

La Petite brought home a new little one a little while after Tiny died. She named him Darwin, and introduced him to Sadie and Peanut. They got along famously. She brought him in to be neutered today, and his heart stopped during the surgery. I'll share some happy Darwin pictures later on. He was a sweetie, a very loving little furry friend.

Here's a link to one of La Petite's photo albums. There are several pix of Darwin.

Recipe for Another Successful School Year

2007-06-08T12:49:00.000-07:00

a co-op poem created by sixth grade students during their first week of school

Start with one gingerbread school with a chocolate bar roof.
Add gingerbread teachers.
Put in desks, chairs, and sugar cookie books.
Spray with sticky notes, cinnamon rolls, and caramel lunch money.
Slice and dice with scissors.
Mix the books with folders and cooks.
Drop in a couple of gym shoes.
Sprinkle with school supplies.
Deep fry all ingredients.

Spread some eagerness.

Place gingerbread kiddos in desks.
Fill the backpacks with goodies.
Frost with glue and chocolate chip cookies.

Serve with friends.

Recipe for a Successful School Year

2007-06-08T12:47:00.001-07:00

a co-op poem created by sixth grade students during their first week of school

First, place nice teachers in a bowl.
Add well-behaved students.
Fill desks with pencils, markers, scissors, colored pencils, paper, and folders.
Add a couple brains and a Tablespoon of friendship. Add some kindness.
Combine with math facts.
Stir into full desk.
Bake for a year. Take out of oven.
Cut into 30 pieces. Sprinkle with focus.
Serve to 30 people and
Enjoy!

A Very Special Author

2007-03-01T14:38:00.000-08:00

When we were young
And could pick up a book,
A man with a gift
Made us all take a look

At a cat with a mission,
A feline with style,
Dressed up in a hat
With a hint of beguile.

The cat made us smile,
The Grinch brought a tear.
While the Whos down in Whoville
Inspired a cheer.

Those red fish and blue fish
Or green eggs and ham
The Star Bellied Sneetches
And that Sam-I-Am

The poor little boy

Wearing five hundred hats

Got caught in the oobleck

That fell and went splat.

His stories had morals,
Were strong with conviction,
Even though written
As young readers' fiction.

A clear point of view,
The compassion he saw,
Like"...a person's a person,
No matter how small."

The elephant Horton
Who said what he meant,
That he could be faithful,
One hundred percent.

And think of the Lorax,
The one who said, "Please,
Oh, Please stop destroying
Tha Truffula Trees!"

His creatures were special,
Both comic and tragic,
Some small and some large,
With an aura of magic.

Think of the characters,
Ageless and timeless,
And how he could make
Something rhyme that seemed rhymeless!

The point of my story,
I'm sure you have reckoned,
Someone quite special
Was born on March second.

Creator of Yertle,
And Thidwick the Moose,
A talent unequaled:
The dear Dr. Seuss.

Free Fall

2007-02-07T17:23:00.000-08:00

A ribbon in the wind
The lace curtains blow
Serene in their motion
The waves softly flow.

Dancing so slightly
The cool ocean breeze
Gently caresses
The leaves on the trees.

Pale purple dreams
With shades of cool blue
I'm drifting, free falling
But safely -- with you.

Happy Valentine's Day, dear.

Countdown - or - Drink a Toast to Life

2006-12-30T16:41:00.000-08:00

Contemplation of a New Year
Fill in the blanks.

Five Significant Memories: Look back
1
2
3
4
5

Four predictable events to come: Look forward
1
2
3
4
5

Three Highlights of the Year that's Ending: Reminisce
1
2
3

Two Good Habits to Continue and Enjoy: Look ahead while looking back.
1
2

One -- just one!
One Goal for the year to come

Think it over.
Declare the goal real. Relevant. Possible.
Now drink a toast,
Whether champagne or grape juice
Promise yourself it'll happen.
Then make it so.

The New Alert System

2006-11-09T17:09:00.000-08:00

Dear, please replenish the woodpile
For the fireplace
While I shop for
Bottled water, analgesics, thermometers,
Batteries for the flashlights and radios,
And emergency rations, enough to last six weeks or more.

Remember,
Viruses are everywhere, and
Quarantine is inevitable.

Wait. Stop.
What’s this knee-jerk reaction?
Tuition money spent on freeze-dried whatnots?
Closets packed with canned food,
Over-the-counter meds,
And cases of bottled water?

No.
Shop, yes. And replenish the woodpile, too.
But I’ll buy a bottle of wine
A sweet CD
Cheese and crackers.
Not stockpiles of panic.
We’ll cozy up by the fireplace,
In our favorite blankets and quilts,
To enjoy each other,
And take care of our family.

We’ll continue living our lives,
Resisting the propaganda.
Common sense, love and caring,
And family
Make survival
Worthwhile.

Homecoming Haiku

2006-10-06T19:22:00.000-07:00

After the football game
Hot cocoa feels so cozy
And tastes so good, too.

Stealing Headlines

2006-09-30T07:36:00.000-07:00

In attempt to make sense out of the recent shocking news, I "borrowed" headlines from articles covering the two school shootings this week. The two events are interspersed in pantoume form so that some headlines could apply to either one.
I'm not satisfied with this poem at all; maybe these incidents aren't supposed to make sense.

Principal targeted
In second school shooting this week
Innocence lost
Small town unaccustomed to tragedy.

In second school shooting this week
Details of attack emerge
Small town unaccustomed to tragedy
Mourns victim killed in siege.

Details of attack emerge
Another campus shooting
Mourns victim killed in siege
Teen charged in school shooting.

Another campus shooting
Hostage sent love to her family
Teen charged in school shooting
Hero prevented more deaths.

Hostage sent love to her family
Vigil held to mourn
Hero prevented more deaths
Died after shooting.

Vigil held to mourn
A victim used as a shield
Died after shooting
Critical condition.

A victim used as a shield
Principal targeted
Critical condition
Innocence lost.

A Teacher's Lament in Haiku

2006-09-03T18:12:00.000-07:00

Labor Day has passed.

Back to school we go again.

Where did summer go?

Patience

2006-08-28T20:18:00.000-07:00

Patience is
Waiting
Breathing slowly
Or Holding my breath
Biting my tongue
Thinking before I speak.
Meanwhile
Hyperventilating,
Tongue bleeding,
The words simmering inside
Slowly come to a boil.
Pressure rises
Steam escapes
And the lid
flies
off!!

How I Write

2006-08-19T11:13:00.000-07:00

Personal reflection on writing poetry

I write what I think.
I write what I feel.
I write with a pen on loose leaf paper
or in the tiny spiral notebook pulled from my purse.
I write on my laptop computer
-outside on the deck
-on the couch in the den
-at the kitchen table
-in the backseat of the family van on the highway
I write to organize and clarify my thoughts
I write down the bones, the beginnings
then I revise with Xs and arrows and notes
written vertically in the margins
I write best with a structure
or goal in mind.
Random doesn’t work for me.
Leaving rhyme behind was hard; its structure was comforting, familiar
So I challenged myself with other structures
that let me grow
My angle is more literal than metaphoric -- often more prosaic than poetic.
Reality checks in more often than fantasy.
I write from my heart, but not too much,
Because if I write about those closest to me
It can hurt,
So I don’t look inward as often as I could.
I write for me.
Though others might enjoy the pieces on occasion.
I don’t write for the masses.
I write what I think.
I write what I feel.
I write for me.

Why we were late after lunch

2006-08-15T15:58:00.000-07:00

--A poetic apology for arriving in class late after an interminable wait for our food to arrive

What did we order that they had to kill?
Are they plucking the chicken for my soup?
Milking the cow to make the cheese for Donna’s burger?
Growing the lettuce for the salad?
Heading south of the border for the tortillas in Julia’s soup?
How long does it take for Jim Beam to cure?
Never mind……
Check please! I’ll take mine to go.

-Oh, the memories! My lunchmates and I wrote this on our way back to a graduate class to apologize for our lateness. The stress of the long wait rather diminished our enjoyment of the food, but the poem convinced the professor that it was out of our control. The Jim Beam, by the way, was in a sauce, not a glass. :)

Snow White's Response

2006-08-13T11:38:00.000-07:00

Really, stepmother, I understand.
In this youth-centered culture,
Just like Hollywood, younger is better
Regardless of talent.

I'll get the same reaction
In twenty years
When a new, lovelier princess
Emerges from puberty
and charms the masses with her
innocence and fresh beauty.

Let's leave together.
There must be a society
That values women more than this one.
Leave that apple -- and that blasted mirror! -- behind.

In my pocket

2006-08-04T08:46:00.000-07:00

One nickel, two pennies.
Seven cents.
Nearly worthless
Not enough to buy anything in these days when penny candy costs a quarter.
They jingle in my pocket
Spread their unique metallic taste to my fingers.
How did they get there?
What did I buy that netted me exactly seven cents in change?
I must have been in a terrible hurry to drop these coppery coins into my pocket instead of my wallet.
In a life so rushed, paced so fast, this seven cents
Reminds me to slow down.
Open my purse, take time.
When viewed from this perspective,
Even this meager seven cents
Has value.

Attack of the clones

2006-08-02T10:06:00.000-07:00

They didn't come silently.
Bulldozers, cranes, cement trucks, and other big machinery
Brought them in and put them up.
And now they stand
Looming over the landscape once crowded with cornstalks.

Exactly three stories tall.
Light gray with darker gray trim.
Identical porches.
Identical attached garages.
Identical satellite dishes, mounted at the exact same angle.

Blocks and blocks -- no,
Mile upon miles
of brand new cloned condominiums
On shining new asphalt roads
with bright new yellow stripes painted down their centers.
Within minutes of the new strip malls!
Buy now! They're new! Good terms available!

But don't expect any character,
Individual style,
Color, variety,
Or even trees.
This is not a neighborhood; it is a barracks.

These buildings are exactly,
Precisely,
Completely,
Frighteningly,
Alike.

And more are on the way....

Straight Talk from Kids

2006-07-25T19:31:00.000-07:00

...actual statements and questions from children, ages 11 through 16, in the days immediately preceding and immediately after the start of Operation Iraqi Freedom. The poem is a few years old: the feelings expressed are not.

What if war breaks out

While we're at school?

Kids should know

What's going on.

While we're in school

Watch the TV in the commons

What's going on?

Try CNN.

Watch TV in the commons

You'll stay informed.

Try CNN

Every channel's exactly the same.

You'll stay informed.

Did you hear about the war?

Every channel's exactly the same

What's the latest?

Did you hear about the war?

Kids should know

What's the latest.

What if war breaks out?

Garden Earth

2006-07-22T17:58:00.000-07:00

Deep, rich hues in so many shades of brown
Awaiting my shovel and hoe.
I dig into it and find
All kind of living things.
Long pale worms, small black beetles.
Things with lots of legs skittering away from the sudden exposure to the sunlight.

Compost, made naturally from last summer's waste in the big black bin that housed and protected it all winter
Mixes yet another shade into the layers
And enriches the growing ability
By returning to the soil that which came from it in the beginning.

Its fertile ground lies dormant, waiting,
Ready to nurture the seeds placed there by design
Along with the strays that fly in on the wind
Or get dropped by visiting birds and bees.

How simple, yet how vital, in its ordinary brown clothing
Soil. Ground. Dirt. Sand. Clay. Mud.
Earth provides the place for our food to grow.
It cleanses our groundwater, filtering it naturally as rainfall soaks in and travels on its way to the aquifer.

Our society treats earth so cavalierly.
Planting non-native grasses for lawns, then over fertilizing these unnatural breeds, sending chemicals into the earth that do not belong there.
Building subdivisions on farmland: huge streets and huge houses for the new owners of the land
While the rich brown soil languishes underneath the finished basements.
Waiting to nurture, provide, grow, produce.

And so I keep digging into my garden, in my small backyard, near the old downtown in the middle of our little city.
And grow a few tomatoes, some zucchini, a few herbs
Then recycle the plants in the fall as compost
To add again to the cycle
That re-uses and regenerates my little parcel of this lovely brown earth.

--written summer 2003

Naming the Daughter

2006-07-17T09:02:00.000-07:00

Naming the daughter
In the Ugandan tradition, children are named not just at birth, but throughout their lives according to their characteristics and significant events. This poem was written four years ago, and very little has changed.

My firstborn
She of deep, thoughtful eyes and a full head of thick dark hair.
She of the contagious giggle.
The one who climbed before she could walk.
The toddler who cried when she fell, but remained calm for the stitches, and
She who years later handled a fractured wrist without tears.
Ruffle socks and buckle shoes daughter
Wear a dress no matter what the weather daughter.
The child who listened to Beethoven and Raffi.
The child who learned to ride a bike in the Lambeau Field parking lot.
The young genius with crayons, markers, scissors, and glue.
So painfully shy at 6 she rarely spoke --
So social at 16 she rarely stopped.

The eldest. The big sister.
She of expressive eyes and long, thick hair.
The master of irony and sardonic humor.
She who doesn't do morning.
A rainbow of Converse tennis shoes daughter.
Blue jeans, capris, and tank-tops daughter.
The teen who listens to Pachelbel, Frank Sinatra, and Queen.
The one who left the bike behind in favor of Dad's silver Saturn.
The young genius with pencil and charcoal.
The young genius with a camera and Adobe Photo Shop.
Creator of a multitude of unique and colorful scrapbooks.

The one whose presence can brighten a room
Truly the joy of my life.

Where am I?

2006-07-11T09:09:00.000-07:00

This poem was written a few years ago. I'm bringing it back because of an inspirational phone call from my vagabond husband and traveler son. They called me from a large airport during a layover, and one of the sites they saw was 6 -- count'em, SIX -- Starbucks during the 20 minutes (!) since their first plane landed. I love coffee, and Starbucks makes it very well. But come on, folks, there are limits. The poem is written in a modified pantoume form, which utilizes repetition and order.

Where am I?

McDonald's
Starbucks
Chinese take-out chain
Krispy Kreme Doughnuts

Starbucks
Barnes and Noble
Krispy Kreme doughnuts
Another Starbucks.

Barnes and Noble
Or is it Borders Books?
Yet another Starbucks
Menard's or Home Depot?

Borders Bookstore (I think)
Dry Cleaning Chain
Home Depot (or is it Lowe's)
Opening soon -- Starbucks!

Dry Cleaning and Shoe Repair
Grocery superstore
Starbucks -- grand opening!
Walgreens Pharmacy

Superstore with grocery
Baskin Robbins ice cream
Walgreens Pharmacy and Gifts
Is anything locally owned?

Baskin robbins and Dunkin' Doughnuts?
Chinese take-out chain
Locally owned? I think not.
At last -- McDonald's.

What does Green Really Mean?

2006-07-08T11:55:00.000-07:00

Green is alive.

new shoots in springtime
leaves emerging from their buds
light growth over a freshly dug grave
a view of the forest from a nearby hillside

Green is relaxing.

a hike in the forest
time to watch birds in the park
rabbits nibbling on the backyard clover
dabbling your feet in the lake waters

Green is aesthetically pleasing.

trees that shade an urban street
a country drive in autumn
the endless expanse of a cornfield
flocks of whooping cranes migrating once again

Green is active, not passive.

Write a letter to support green legislation.
Put up a gypsy moth trap.
Weed that garden!
Turn the compost -- again.

Green means dollars.

Buy a fishing pole!
Come to the new mega-sports supply store!
Purchase your hiking supplies here!
You need a new tent this year! Really!

Green is a state of mind.

Reduce, re-use, recycle.
Save the manatee!
Don't touch that rainforest!
I speak for the truffula trees!

Green is beautiful, bright and fancy.

Green is deep, rich, and glowing.

Green is ever present

In all living things.

Home (land) Security

2006-07-07T08:07:00.000-07:00

Survival
(written in spring, 2003)

Dear, please replenish the woodpile
for the fireplace
while I shop for
water
batteries
canned food
duct tape
and sheets of plastic.

Wait.
Stop.
Who am I kidding?
Survival at what cost?
Heart-stopping anxiety?
Paralyzing fear?
Floating in a dark sea of isolation?

No.
We'll live our lives
The best weapons we have
Against hatred and fear
Are love, laughter, and caring
Not plastic and Duct tape.

So replenish the woodpile
for the fireplace, dear
While I shop instead for
Wine and cheese,
Popcorn and lemonade.

We'll snuggle up by the fireplace
In the quilt grandma made
and enjoy being a family.
Love and caring, not plastic and duct tape,
Reduce the anxiety
Lessen the fear
Make survival
Worthwhile.

I like to read

2006-07-06T15:57:00.000-07:00

I like to read –
Short books and long,
Books full of stories,
And poems, and songs
They’re big and they’re small
And I love them all
Yes, I like to read every day.

I like to read –
About children like me,
Who play in a sandbox
And climb up a tree.
We play and we run
We have lots of fun;
Yes, I like to read every day.

I like to read –
Books about bugs
Books about holidays,
Books about hugs.
About queens and kings
About most anything
Yes, I like to read every day.

I like to read –
About fantasy, too,
Books of adventures
For me and for you;
From people who’ve told
Stories brave, stories bold
Oh, I like to read every day.

I like to read –
Special books I can touch
With words made in Braille
I like them so much:
To touch and to feel
The pictures so read;
Yes, I like to read every day.

I like to read –
With my teachers at school
Books from the library,
Awesome and cool,
Or books of my own
That I keep right at home
Yes, I like to read every day.