Concepts of Time

Today my fingers fumbled over cupcake liners
Just yesterday it was diapers.
Today I turned in your kindergarten registration
Just yesterday you were discharged from the hospital.
Today I combed your hair
Just yesterday I stroked your bare head.
Today I said, "one more day bugga boo!"
Just yesterday I said, "hello my sweet."
Tomorrow you will turn five,
and someday it will seem like just yesterday.

Waiting and Anticipating

One on either side sconced in lights.
One behind openly revealing a different reality.
The opposite reflecting the light of those dreams, fears, anticipated horrors.
Those walls see it . The resulting tears, gasps, gaffaws, nauseum.
Our vulnerability seeping as the screened wall tells the story.
The adjacent absorbing the splattering and scattering from our surprise.
Seeing the disappointment, disgust and delight.
Movies.
They bring this out in all of us.


I wrote this while waiting to see The Hunger Games this weekend. We got to the theater about forty minutes early so I had some time to kill. The theater slowly filled. There were gasps, tears, relief, it was good. Almost as good as my imagination had made it when I read the story.

Wordless

So, I am just beginning to type. I have things in here, ideas, poems, stories, lists. It is endless. Like talking, I always have a conversation, I am never short on words. I have so many words, it can be frustrating at times. I don't stop, listen, take in other people's words, I miss out...words are my weakness as much as they are my strength.

This is where I go when I just begin to type...
reflect
revise
refine
refuse
revive
relive

This is what I think when I just begin to type...

Ideals
Ideas
Identify
Identity

This is what I wonder when I just begin to type...
Define
Design
Decide
Divine
Deny

This is what I hear when I just begin to type...
Ways
Delays
Okays

words are my nemesis...outright...they are my life...they are...me...defined...

Child's Play Haiku

A Slice of Life Post Hosted by Two Writing Teachers

and 

Poetry Friday Hosted by A Year of Reading

A child's play haiku for today! :)

My Evening in Pictures

I took my camera outside tonight to take a moment and notice everything around me. There was quite a lot to take in; this deer was my first subject. It held my gaze, never moving as I moved in closer snapping photo after photo. Then I began to notice the other peaceful subjects in my backyard.

 A deer resting peacefully just outside our woods.

 A sun setting to the right.

 An apple tree bud opening to the left.

 

Blue spring flowers at my feet.

A blooming quince bush saying goodnight.

A Poem Inspired by The Thin Prison, Leslie Norris

Poetry Friday is hosted today by Greg at Gotta Book.

Slice of Life Story Challenge hosted by

Stacey and Ruth Two Writing Teachers

About three years ago I read the book, Dancing With the Pen: The Learner As a Writer,  by New Zealand Staff Ministry Of Education. It was a book I picked up and read a little here and a little there. It is a great book to read if you are beginning to question your own process as a writer or a teacher of writing. It helped pull things into focus for me at a time when I was ready to reflect on these aspects of my teaching. However, the part that remains fresh for me, even after three years, is the poem that opens chapter three of the book, The Thin Prison, by Leslie Norris. It is the poem that lead me to write Steps and helped me realize if I am going to understand writers, I have to be one. I think each day I get closer to convincing myself that I am a writer too; still on my journey like everyone else.

STEPS

Steps are what I take
every time I pick up my pen.
Words take me somewhere. A medium

to expression, an art that too many never try.
 
We all have words,
an audience, a pen, yet,
words do not escape among the
doodles, smudges and ink stained fingers.

Let your words out.  

Inspired by

The Thin Prison,

by Leslie Norris       

The Thin Prison

 Hold the pen close to your ear.
Listen—can you hear them?
Words burning as a flame,
Words glittering like a tear,

Locked, all locked in the slim pen.
They are crying out for freedom.
And you can release them,
Set them running from prison.

Himalayas, balloons, Captain Cook,
Kites, red bricks, London Town,
Sequins, cricket bats, large brown
Boots, lions and lemonade—look,

I’ve just let them out!
Pick up your pen, and start,
Think of the things you know—then
Let the words dance from your pen.

Leslie Norris

The Chapters in Life Shape Our Story

Slice of Life Story Challenge Hosted by   Two Writing Teachers!

 Poetry Friday roundup hosted by Gathering Books!

The Chapter Beyond Pain

I have known pain 

and

I will know it again.

A crime against pain I would commit

With no shame.

It distracts me, attacks me.

In its scope it will track me.

Pain is blinding and binding

Debilitating without discriminating.

Pain can prickle or trickle

Throw me down without thought.

When faced in its arena

It counts me as weak

It stands confident before me

Intimidating, me bleak.

But I choose what I see

In those moments of pain. 

Though distant, I see it,

My weapon to slay.

I reach out for it

Grabbing that place beyond pain

My defense from the wounds

From worries and shame.

I have known pain 

and 

I will know it again.