All posts by onathought

Tulips for Mary

Family, poetry

Tulips for Mary

They filled the vases with tulips, red, orange, yellow, bright
Her favorite flowers, of course they bloomed in spring
The bouquets now brought a sort of comfort to the night

There were candles, too, flickering a calming light
Pictures laid on tables, memories of everything
They filled the vases with tulips, red, orange, yellow, bright

Tall candlesticks she painted, colorful with height
People in a line, hoping company could lessen the sting
The bouquets now brought a sort of comfort to the night

Her favorite orange, in tulips signify a zest for life
And she would want us to wear joy, not a mourning ring
They filled the vases with tulips, red, orange, yellow, bright

Tulips are for those you love with all your might
For husbands, wives, siblings and offspring
The bouquets now brought a sort of comfort to the night

Tulips lined the funeral home, to remind all to delight
Grieving loved ones swirled out the door, her life celebrating
They filled the vases with tulips, red, orange, yellow, bright
The bouquets now brought a sort of comfort to the night

It’s April, so I’m writing. Today from an EthicalELA prompt from a few days ago: Villanelle on the Vine It’s not perfect, but it’s my first Villanelle. And since I grew up with Mary as my second mom, mom of my best friend, and I can remember her telling me my drawings didn’t need to be perfect, I think she would be okay with me just giving this a solid try.

Oops

poetry

Oh Shit.
I forgot how to write poetry.
There used to be a way I could
string
words
down
the
page
so they said
exactly what I wanted them to say

What a
time
to forget
how to write poetry —
It’s poetry
MONTH

Damn
that’s bad timing
especially because I have big things to say
writing them though?
that feels whiny
annoying
trite
stupid
because
what kind of
string
of
words
could
possibly articulate
what I
want
to
say?

Teenagers

poetry

I wonder if the teenage me would laugh
(or cringe, I guess)
at how often I am standing in my kitchen
making tea, pouring seltzer, doing dishes
in my pajamas
always in my pajamas
when a gaggle of teenage boys walks through
chats for just a polite minute
before going to hang out
upstairs or downstairs

Look Closely

poetry

A snapshot
of a happy time
I remember smiles and laughter
But this snapshot?
Oh my God
my face
why am I making that face?
my arms
why am I slouching?
I don’t remember slouching
One time I read that others
see us in movement
love us in movement
we see ourselves in still pictures
where we focus too much
on each part
where it’s easy to criticize
each part
We would love ourselves
if we saw ourselves
in movement
like the rest of the world
like we love others
So that is what I tell myself
as I close the picture
and decide to either
hide from cameras
always
or just never look at any
snapshots
of myself
ever
again

It’s April so I am writing poetry. Today’s poem is inspired by Look Closely on EthicalELA

Depending on When You Met Me

Family, poetry, Reflections on teaching

Depending on when you met me
I’ve been
a daughter, a sister, a friend
a girlfriend, a wife –
until that came to an end
I’ve been a mother, now I’ll always be one

Depending on when you met me
I might have been a new mom, a mom of 1 or 2 or 3
A mom of young kids, home on family rearing leave,
or teaching, somehow teaching with babies at home.
If you didn’t meet me then, you wouldn’t have known –
My kids used to love to hang out with me, before they were grown

Depending on when you met me?
I mean, wow. Me?
I’ve been a babysitter, a daycare worker, a teacher, of course
a coach.
until that came to an end
then a teacher again
somewhere in there my kids grew up and my husband betrayed me

Depending on when you met me
I might have been crying a lot
or laughing a lot
writing a lot
I bet you want more details
Depending on when you met me

It’s April, so I’m writing poetry. Inspiration today from Depending When You Met Me on EthicalELA

From the Bottom of my Cart

poetry, Slice of Life
It’s Tuesday! Time for Slice of Life over at Two Writing Teachers! Plus, it’s April! So I’m writing poetry!

Dear Grocery Clerk,
I didn’t want to be a jerk
So I watched in silence
didn’t threaten violence
when you slowly bagged
what didn’t need to be bagged
and stuffed the bag
into the bottom of my cart

I didn’t have my reusables
and this was inexcusable
so you bagged with hate
I’m not here to debate
but could you not consolidate?
Did you have to bag while so irate?
It’s fine, 4 bags for 20 cents was my fate
The extra two in the bottom of my cart

It was so windy outside
I swear I almost cried
As the cart started to roll
It was so hard to control
I pulled, and I pulled the stuffed bag
The 5-cent brown bag
The I didn’t need a fourth one bag
from the bottom of my cart


Where I’m From – Teacher Edition

poetry, Reflections on teaching

Where are you from, Ms. Gabriel?

I am from right after purple dittos
I am from transparencies, overhead projectors,
vis-a-vis markers
I am from a TV wheeled in,
vhs tapes, filmstrips even
I am from a desktop computer,
taking students to the computer lab
I am from clip art, ClarisWorks, AppleWorks, Intaglio
until none of it worked
I am from quickmail, email, make sure you check all the mail
I am from colored cards of standards
bookshelves full of resources
chart stands full of seasonal songs
written with Mr. Sketch on manilla tagboard
I am from interdisciplinary units
Land of Make Believe
Voyage of the Mimi
Lesson plans copied by hand into a steno pad
I am from painting, coloring, cutting and gluing
I am from Stinky Cheese Man and the Math Curse
The birth of Harry Potter, and later
Hunger Games and Twilight
I am from workshop and choice and
students should have a voice
Do I even have to mention
I am from, of course, differentiation
I am from having time for real learning
I am from childhood is a journey not a race
I am from Y2K and even decades later,
I am from the songs from my childhood
like the one Whitney Houston sang the year I was born
I am from I believe Children are our future

It’s April, I’m writing poetry. Today inspired by the prompt on Ethical ELA: Where I’m From Again

Write from Scars not Wounds

poetry

We watched Fiddler on the Roof tonight
I knew all the songs because you used to sing them
a long time ago

Memories are fine
a scar not a wound

When Golde and Tevye were singing
Do you love me
I wondered
Is it better to love then not
or to not then love?

Wondering is fine
a scar not a wound

It was a High School production
their closing night
the seniors cried at curtain call
I probably cried at my senior curtain call

Crying is fine
a scar not a wound

***

It’s April! I’m writing poetry! Today’s inspiration comes from Ethical ELA Scars

My Van

Uncategorized

My van has taken us across the country,
west and also south.
It’s climbed the million dollar highway, driven through the Mojave dessert and of course, back to our house.
It helped me take my daughter away to school.
In the fall it will carry my son to college too.
With all it’s done for me, all the places we have gone…
You’d think I’d clean it more.

It’s April, so I’m writing poetry. Today, inspiration from EthicalELA – Oh – the Places You’ll Go!