Category Archives: poetry

#FindTheJoy

pandemic, poetry, Reflections on coaching, Reflections on teaching, Slice of Life, Uncategorized

Slice of LIfePart of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers

 

I’m not saying that it’s quite as easy to find the joy each day, remotely.

Even before pandemic times
Before The Quarantine,
There were days.

Days when
meetings overtook
people were mean
things got canceled
I didn’t see a child,
(other than my own and they were grumpy that day, for sure)

There’s a reason I have a wine glass that says
#coachingainteasy

On those days,
Before pandemic times
Before Quarantine
I sometimes had to look for joy

And maybe I learned that looking for joy
is how you find it

Now it’s pandemic times
The Quarantine

Now I have to look for joy
It doesn’t pop up on its own and wave its hands in the air as often as normal
(“normal?”)

But it’s still important.
Because I’ve learned that looking for joy
is how you find it

Even if you are looking into your computer screen at little boxes
reading emails instead of faces
walking down your steps instead of around a school

Some people have reminded me that I don’t have to keep finding joy
posting videos, sharing every day
“It’s a pandemic!”
“Cut yourself some slack!”
“You don’t owe videos to anyone!”

But I do.
I owe it to myself
I owe it to myself to keep looking for joy

#findthejoy

(Check out my #findthejoy videos on Twitter and Facebook @OnaFeinberg … and join in! See what happens when you look for joy!)

#sol20 March 31 A Slice, The Last Slice

pandemic, poetry, Slice of Life

Slice of LIfePart of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by.

 

I don’t know what to write about.
Which means I should probably try a 6-word slice:

Writing brought happiness, and also frustration 

My mind is maybe too tired to write today.
Which means I should probably try a haiku:

zoom zoom zoom zoom zoom
butt, ears, eyes, and elbows hurt
zoom zoom zoom zoom zoom

Slicing is hard.
Which means I should probably try a little rhyme:

Writerly life
during pandemic strife
means my first-hand account
is paramount 

Pandemic life
as coach, mother, wife
means busy days full of stress
my brain – full of a mess

Sit every day to write
before sinking into bed at night
means choosing my chair again
staring at the screen with disdain

But living the slicer life
during the pandemic strife
means a writing and sharing opportunity
a connection, a community

It’s the last Slice of Life this March.
Which means I should probably make this short and sweet:

See you next Tuesday, I hope! 

 

 

#sol20 March 29 slices, before you grew up

poetry, Slice of Life

Slice of LIfePart of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by.

slices, before you grew up

someone recently asked me who I am
“who were you as a child, before you grew up?”
my answer is a disappointment, my memory is terrible

I think maybe the details are locked in a fireproof safe
or that’s wishful thinking
and they are gone

all I have are slices
of memories
little unfocused slices

laughter
we would laugh until we fell down, tears streaming down our face
it didn’t matter if the grown-ups didn’t understand our jokes

dance
we would dance in the living room, or outside on the grass until we fell down
in dance class, Mrs. Dittmar separated us often for too much laughing

song
mostly those Disney sing-a-long records with the square lyric book but later Madonna
I’d put in True Blue and listen and read the insert until I had the songs memorized

pretend
imagination was the most important thing, I promised I’d always have it
we played barbies, & school, made robber stew, and I even had an imaginary friend

someone recently asked me who I am
“who were you as a child, before you grew up?”
laugher, dance, song, pretend… my memory is terrible

#sol20 March 24 A Slice of Wordplay about Today. . .

Family, poetry, Slice of Life

Slice of LIfePart of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by.

 

About today.
How many zooms can one non-boomer zoom, if zoom is the only way to be in the room?

By the way.
I just looked it up and I’m maybe an echo-boomer, which makes me an echo-boomer-zoomer.

And so you know.
This is how I write when it’s already night, and I’ve witnessed one too many sibling fight, and I just want everything to be alright.

Before I go.
Help me. Why am I tired, when there’s only sitting required… but for my kids, these days leave them wired?

 

#sol20 March 21 A slice of Silver Lining Haiku

pandemic, poetry, Slice of Life

Slice of LIfePart of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge! I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by.

 

The other day I read a haiku slice… I thought I wrote down which slicer’s it was… but I can’t find that! If you know, please tell me! The haiku ended with “A silver lining” and I thought I’d try lifting that line, for some uplifting haiku of my own. Get it? Lifting to uplift! 

zooming all work now
made me clean my desk at home
a silver lining

kids don’t go to school
means time for chores and reading
a silver lining

new distance learning
includes a mute button tool
a silver lining

far friends at home too
now say we work together
a silver lining

dolphins, swans are back
earth is breathing cleaner now
a silver lining

I’d love for you to add your own “A Silver Lining” haiku in the comments, friends. 

 

#sol20 March 4 A Slice of a Poem, I Guess?

poetry, Reflections on coaching, Reflections on teaching, Slice of Life

Slice of LIfePart of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers March Slice a Day Challenge!
I’m slicing every day this month. Thanks for stopping by. 🙂

 

I don’t usually hear owls in the morning.

Do I?

This is what I am thinking as I arrive at school, balancing my coffee and bags and a water bottle, and my phone so I can speech-to-text a note to myself to remember later. Only, my phone thinks I’ve said, “I don’t usually hear about it in the morning.”

So I have to rebalance my bags so I can correct that in the note– because it feels like a slice. If I go home hours later and see a note that says “I don’t usually hear about it in the morning,” I’ll never know what I was talking about.

I breathe in the cool morning air, that feels both like it’s spring now, and also like it could snow any day.

Maybe this will be the kind of day where there are slices all around me, I think. Maybe I’ll fill my note on my phone with amazing inspiration for a poem that starts with

I don’t usually hear owls in the morning. 

I can add something about the cool morning air.

I don’t usually hear owls in the morning
Cool morning
Spring air
Snow soon

What a poet I am! I write a little in my mind while I walk to my room.

It will be a day full of slice inspiration. Slice-piration! 

Only I’m pretty busy, and the only other note I write is scrawled on a post-it on a page of the 5th-grade literary essay book. It’s a comment a student makes during the connection of our mini-lesson, and I have to write it down because I need it for my #finthejoy video.

I had reminded the class I was there for writing yesterday, and that today we were going to continue growing ideas about our stories to help us with interpretations for our literary essays.

“Wait. You were here yesterday?” A boy asked. “Morning or afternoon?”

“Afternoon.”

“You’re like a ninja!” he said.

IMG_7827

So, that’s my poem for the day, I guess. It must mean something, right?

 

I don’t usually hear owls in the morning

Cool morning
Spring air
Snow soon

Like a ninja

 

28 years

Family, poetry

28 years ago

28 years ago
we met on a Thursday
on the third floor
in theatre

Back then
you had big glasses
big hair…you were
a bit of a dork

Back then
I had flippy hair
(scrunchy on my wrist)
not as cool as I imagined

We did
acting exercises
first word – last word– subject
oh – and monologues

We laughed
the way everyone
laughs together
in theatre

(Everyone
should be so lucky
to make friends 
backstage)

We flirted
the way teenagers 
flirt together – 
a crush

By May
we were in love
a first kiss
in the greenroom

28 years ago
we met on a Thursday
on the third floor 
in theatre

The Skin of Our Teeth
Our first play, I’m in front with the flippy hair. Mr. Thought is in the back with the suit and tie.

 

From my chair, at my desk at 6:00 a.m. (A Slice of Life)

poetry, Slice of Life

Slice of LIfePart of Slice of Life by Two Writing Teachers

 

From my chair, at my desk at 6:00 a.m.

From my chair, at my desk at 6:00 a.m., I see
coffee, almost done
water bottle, waiting
a stack of books
a stack of bills
so many post-it notes
flair pens in
and out of their organizer
paper clips
a new pack of Sharpies
a mini typewriter pencil sharpener
a glasses cleaner cloth
notes my 9-year old left himself with
lego and pokemon passwords
notes I left myself:
“Reflect”
“Pen on the page”
“Stop Googling”

From my chair, at my desk at 6:00 a.m., I see
my floor,
(even though I try not to look)
bags packed for school
the dog’s tiger toy
the tiger’s stuffing in bits all over
the dog’s giant rope, frayed
a bin of printer paper
a stack of books
an extra bag

From my chair, at my desk at 6:00 a.m., I see
the dark hallway
the vacuum around the corner
the lit kitchen
where I know the empty lunchboxes wait
and maybe another drop of coffee