In a "New Year" Moment

Today  I started a new poetry book by Rafael Campo. This is inspired by his poem "On New Years Day."  The first and last lines are his.

If hopefulness resides in what we can
teach, then let's teach about
human frailty and social injustice.
Let's dive into the Transcendentalists
and the Modernists and the Beat Poets
and take something for ourselves.
Let's see if the First Amendment is
working and if we can emulate
Longfellow or Collins or Herrera.
If we can hope for a better life for
everyone, let's think about who
"Everyone" includes--and not just
make it about Someone. Let us be
honest about the Vietnam War and
Martin Luther King and the 1980's.

Because if today is anything it's
the beginning of a fierce reckoning;
it is opening to something new;
it is beginning to be free.

Are we Afraid?

The title is a question asked in David Whyte's poem "The Geese Go South."  He answers it quickly:

We are not afraid
though there is much to fear
and we know
there is winter beyond this day...

The images he paints in this poem and the theme took me back to a specific day in my life. Here is my response to David.

Never Afraid

This.
This takes me back to that November day
when I watched the geese
and my life purpose was soon to become clear.

I can still hear those geese
feel the cold in the air
feel my 42-year-old body sitting on
a picnic table in Longwood park
that gray day,
winter coming.

It set the stage for all that would
happen afterward
All these years now.

I recommit to that purpose every day.
Every time there is frustration.
Every time another teacher quits.
Every time someone wants to make me
Afraid.

The geese are resilient and strong.
And so am I.
The geese know their formation
and plan.
And so do I.
The geese don't quit.
And neither will I.
The geese are not afraid.
And neither am I.


Photo credit: Ewa Lundgren

Short week, two poems

Found some inspiration this week.

Early Friday morning I was inspired when I read Peuo Tuy's poem "Rouge Rage 1975-1979" about how the U.S. and other countries supported Cambodia in killing their own people.

Then I wrote this nonet:

Fin

Today I thought about the words to

Bob Dylan's "Blowing in the Wind"

Peuo's poem is a reminder

these things go on and on.

How many times can 

we keep making

the same cruel 

mistakes.

Fin! 

This morning I read Twyla M. Hansen's poem called "The Hand of God," and loved the ending:

                   Paying attention

is a form of prayer, the answers

to which are waiting all around you

and close to home

Then I wrote this:

Paying Attention

Today I will be in nature

with a chance to pay attention

as I did yesterday when I watched

the osprey in their nest

heard their babies calling. Looked

at the sky when my eyes were

tired, the blue sky and contrasting

puffs of clouds before the next

class arrived. Paying attention.

Everything. The only thing.

Keys to the Kingdom

Yesterday was rough.  I admit it.  Came home angry and frustrated about a whole host of things: condescending presenters, bullying colleagues, another rushed lunch on a day I had hoped I could actually enjoy my food, rumors of schedule changes I don't agree with...too much all at once. It took a while, but I was able to calm down and pretty much forget a lot of it.

Mornings seem a little weird to me now that I'm no longer writing poems for my kids. I feel some other avenues are opening up.  For example, today I was reading a poem looking for inspiration, but at the same time listening to Ashley Monroe. Her song "Keys to the Kingdom" caught my ear, and that is what I used to get started.

I was given the keys to the kingdom
when I became a teacher. So easy
to forget at times that this is exactly

where I want and need to be. It is
easy to start hearing the negatives,
witness the bullying and the lack of

hope that anything can change. Where
do the striking teachers find their
belief? It is bereft here where young

teachers are getting ready to bolt and
long time teachers are making plans
and I guess the biggest question is

Is anything ever the way we want it to be?
Is the grass greener somewhere
else? Isn't it all trade-offs?

I hold the key to my kingdom.
It is my responsibility to make it a
place worthy of me -- worthy of my
young people -- worthy of building
                                                       the future.

Freedom

I am almost done with Barbara Hamby's poetry collection, and I'll be sorry when its over.  I suppose it is because she is about the same age as I am, and we have many reference points, that she never fails to inspire.  This poured out today.  So much on my mind!

It's about the music, always,

and today I look ahead and

find my way back to all those

things I've learned and all

the things I know can work and

music is involved, of course, it

has to be. Folkies to Hip Hop

eventually, without a doubt,

we can pump up the critical

thinking, we can see history come

alive, we can know its happening

now and quit kidding ourselves.

Those fairy tales were nice & we

can come back to them, but in 

the meantime, it's GO time, and 

we won't pussyfoot around. Earlier

this year I brought out the Town 

Project and now I'm looking at

the Writing Poetry unit and & seeing it

work and all that material

from before, all the things I've

done will connect together  into

a beautiful whole over the next

3 months -- maybe less. Either way,

we have it, we will dig in, we

will learn, we will see how all

things are connected and freedom

is the result.

Dear Amy

Today I completed the scrapbook I have been creating for Amy to celebrate the trip we took together to Chicago. It has been so much fun, and has called back so many things I love doing. This was a combination of photography, writing, and collaging.  For me, that is the perfect trifecta!

I wrote in many structures to add variety:

2 Nonet
7 Haiku
1 Diamante
1 Pyramid Mirror (made up!)
1 Tanka
1 Monostich ("Grant Park" -- the one that started it all, inspired by SIWC)
1 Acrostic
4 Six-word memoirs
1 Letter poem

The letter poem was the last one I wrote, and the one I thought about the most.  When it came time to write, it just flowed. I hand wrote it in the scrapbook, so I am typing it here for my keeping.

Laura Ingalls Wilder Exhibit at American Writers Museum

Dear Amy,

I will long remember our visit

to the American Writers Museum,

from the opening video, the waterfall

of words, the many exhibits,

the games to play, some fun shopping,

and being there with you.

From Mark Twain to Flannery O'Connor,

John Steinbeck to Gwendolyn Brooks,

the virtuosos of language, American

perspectives, the voice of a character

on a printed page, historical moments

and understanding grace, literature

of America gifts the world with

portraits of the human condition,

all felt and on display with energy

and immediacy on the second floor

of that building on South Michigan Avenue.

So glad we shared it together, sister

American writer.  Love, Helen

Clarity

Inner Voice poem inspired by the Nelly Sachs line:

How slowly we flash up in clarity.

How the tiny steps we take
slowly move us to the places
we need to be. Things are static, then
flash! the shift is recognized,
up from what we know, where we stand
in the present, the now, with increasing
clarity of what surrounds us,
 
                             the actions we must take.