That is you.
I know it.
You thought it was a secret,
clung to it,
revelled in the glory of it.
Joy to the world.
Right?
Trust it’s not the only thing.
Naturally.
Oh, baby blues sparkle.
You see the darkness,
and turn your back.
No slackers here.
No secrets sneaking from those cracks.
Oh, I know.
That’s you.
Here’s another pantoum poem, written as a demo with a class on Poetry Friday. This was last block of the day, and one of the students wanted to go get a muffin… Another laugh filled class as we created this poem together!
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Muffin Pantoum (C block)
Josie and Ally want a muffin;
They can’t work on empty stomachs.
Without food, they won’t do nothin’.
How about crackers and hummus?
They can’t work on empty stomachs
How can we ask them to?
How about crackers and hummus?
As we watched, their hunger grew.
How can we ask them to?
A muffin’s not too much to ask!
As we watched, their hunger grew.
They couldn’t do their tasks.
A muffin’s not too much to ask!
A morsel would be fine!
They couldn’t do their tasks
Oh, please! Please, let them dine!
A morsel would be fine!
They only need a bit of food;
Oh, please! Please, let them dine!
Josie gives us attitude.
They only need a bit of food
Without food, they won’t do nothing
Josie gives us attitude:
Josie and Ally want a muffin!
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(This is quite literal. When we were done, they went off and got ONE muffin that they shared). 🙂
In our school, the chef’s training kids make ‘eggers’ in the morning. These are buns with fried egg, cheese, and a sausage patty. They are a popular fast-food breakfast fare, but I hate them. Fried eggs are nauseating to me, runny yolks make me want to vomit, the smell makes me nauseous. So, to avoid calamity, I do not allow them in my class room. Kids have to eat them outside the room. There are huge windows between room and hall, so the class can watch the egger eater outside, like a sad puppy at the glass, waiting to come in.
Today we learned about pantoum poems, and before they wrote their own, I guided a class written one. This was what A block English 11 came up with, as one student was barred and then didn’t realise the door was unlocked, so he could just walk back in when he was done eating his egger. There was lots of laughter, as we wrote it! 🙂 I love Poetry Fridays!
Egger Pantoum (A block’s)
I wanted into English class.
I wasn’t allowed in.
They laughed at me, en masse.
Eating eggers is a sin
I wasn’t allowed in;
I walked away.
Eating eggers is a sin.
What a great start to the day.
I walked away.
I wandered through the halls.
What a great start to the day,
Trapped within these walls.
I wandered through the halls.
I’m chewing very slowly
Trapped within these walls
Eating eggers, I’m unholy
I’m chewing very slowly;
Tears are streaming down my cheeks.
Eating eggers, I’m unholy,
The door won’t open for a week.
Tears are streaming down my cheeks.
They laughed at me, en masse!
The door won’t open for a week.
I wanted into English class!
A poem, found in the comments of NUDGE. By Shawn and Chris
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Your mind, has to be much better.
You ‘re not getting shock treatment too?
Are you?
Not electro-shock, at least
They’re trying to make me look crazy.
Every time i go to the hospital
Strapped to a bed…
You may be fine, but
perhaps the drugs are crazy?
Drugs are how i am…
Where does one end and the other begin?
Is a place ahead
separate from that identity?
desired?
willed?
(Is this a poem?)
No,
drugs are part of the poem
Life is the poem;
drugs are just your ink.
Of course.
I will.
I say it.
I mean it.
But.
Squirrel!
Remind me,
I say.
I mean it.
Of course,
I will.
I mean it.
I will.
Oh, right,
I forgot.
.
.
.
Sometimes, our good intentions get lost in our busyness! How many times have I told people to remind me what I’ve agreed to do for them, because I will likely forget, despite my willingness? I’ve got a memory like a sieve, despite my best intentions. Does this happen to you, too? How awkward is it to make the nudging calls or send the nudging message? Will you nudge, or do you presume the person really doesn’t want to do it? I worry people think I don’t mean it when I ask them to remind me.
I didn’t know
I didn’t know
I didn’t know
I didn’t want to know
I couldn’t know
I shouldn’t know
I wouldn’t know
I know
Know
I…
No.
Sculpting honey?
Pointless.
Shapes dissolve in moments,
dissappear in the gleaming
sweetness of now–
much like
memories
of you.
Falling from the sky
in perfect crystals,
dusting trees, fields, and me
with peace of the season.
.
Falling through the screen,
pixilated dots
dusting poetry
with peace of the season.
.
(Every year on Dec 1, it begins to snow on my blog. It makes me ridiculously happy every time! If you would like snow to fall in your blog, add it in your settings.)
She’s earnest
in all the best ways.
Plasters on that quivering smile
faces the crowd
does her best,
but her best
is not good enough.
Earnestness is not enough.
But I tried!
is not enough.
She needs to be committed
to earnest effort
toward excellence,
maybe for years,
and maybe even then
her earnest desire will not
be enough.
Desire must lead to skill
mingle with effort
sprinkle with luck
and maybe then
earnest will be
enough.
The elderly loved one
has a house, and
that house has a mouse
and another mouse
and another mouse.
A mouse family,
A mouse neighbourhood,
A mouse community,
A mouse town,
A mouse city.
It might be a welcome diversion–
Adorable fluffballs,
with round pink ears,
dangling tails, would be
delightful entertainment,
were their planners better
sanitary engineers.
Their dereliction
leads to mass eviction!
Bleach and scrubbing!
Now there’s interdiction,
sweet mousies who survive,
to you a benediction:
for happy life,
in another jurisdiction!
Shawn L. Bird 