Category: poetry

Back It Up

Published on January 23, 2024

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

Dear Lower Back,

I write this standing at the counter
since you refuse to let me sit down 
in my cozy chair
I am sorry that I ignored you
all this long time
I admit, I didn’t think about you
at all during these many good months
and that was so wrong of me
I know you are always there for me
supporting me, helping me, bearing with me
and I should have included you 
in all my other pursuits 

The last time things were dark and dirty 
between us
I recognized 
there is work I need to do on a regular basis
to focus on you, build you up, support you
we are together forever in this journey called life
takes two to tango

How long will it take me to learn this fully?
Not just when you get upset?

I know enough about apologies 
to recognize defensiveness and excuses
I want to be humbly apologetic, but . . .
couldn’t you give me a heads up that
I have abandoned you again?
(Just reading this, I see my ego, my self-absorption;
I apologize for this, too)
but . . .when I am in the throes of other ills
this is when you unleash your anger at me?
hurting me at my lowest
feels very calculated and controlling
from my view at the counter here

deep cleansing breath

let’s build on our relationship
I promise to do better by you
one step at a time
today forward
we are one

Love, me

I wrote this letter/poem of apology to my back just a few days ago, when things were falling apart. I have had a tough week, healthwise. After hoping to the contrary, I contracted Covid-19 after all, falling ill the day after last week’s SOL. I thought I had escaped the virus. Not to be.

This was my first time contracting the disease and I gotta say – I am not a fan. I have some low grade back issues, and I have been able to keep these in check through regular exercise. This past week, it was as if the virus settled right inside my lower back and held it in some sort of clench. I could not bend without excruciating pain. I moved with caution and trepidation. Shifting my body to get out of bed involved minutes of motor planning, thinking through my best approach. Sitting felt terrible.

Although my body was exhausted from the virus, I kept standing and walking around – ever so slowly. Vertical was the least painful position. Nothing was automatic anymore. Basic movements, such as putting on my socks or lifting my feet onto a footstool, were beyond my ability. Any surprise or unforeseen movement resulted in searing sensations that simply locked me up, immobilized. Here’s a challenge – try to sneeze or cough without moving unexpectedly. Here’s a second challenge – try to get through Covid-19 without sneezing or coughing.

I was a mess.

The pain was particularly acute during the first day or two, as I struggled with a fever. Then, the fever lifted, and the dagger-like pain in my back subsided substantially.

I reached out to my son who is, unfortunately, very informed about lower back pain, having lived with it since high school due to an injury. My text: What are the top five things you do for a lower back flare up? He wrote –

#1 Avoid the seated position. Sitting is the devil. Lie down on your back or stand whenever possible. (Of course, I was sitting when I read his response - only to stand back up, with a chuckle.)
#2 Walking is the best exercise. It loosens up the back.
#3 Assume the supine position with your knees up and feet on the floor. Tighten your core with your back braced against the ground. 
#4 Heed your Transverse Abdominal Muscles (TAs). Look up where those are and practice tightening them. Keep these tight.
#5 When all else fails, heat and ice!

I thanked my son for his helpful response, and he texted back – Of course! Happy to share about one of my few true areas of expertise. Lol.

I am living that expression “new lease on life.” Covid-19 is on its way out of my body; I feel better each day. I am back to my self-care basics – simple back exercises completed upon waking, before I leave my bed. The yoga mat is unfurled for daily conditioning. I am recommitted to my fitness and health goals – and I will move towards these with care. To a healthier back!

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A Poem A Day

Published on January 9, 2024

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

Last week, I shared that my one little word for 2024 is ‘hold.’ Nine days into this new year, I am having fun writing one ‘summative’ poem a day, some aspect of the day that I want to hold onto – or that I am so preoccupied by, it has a hold on me. (I’d prefer all my ‘holds’ to be uplifting, but let’s be real – life isn’t that way.)

Basically, this is poetry as daily reflection. My poetry is weak/easy, mostly ‘free’ writing with no specific forms being used…I am not feeling especially proud of the writing itself. However, I am excited by how the writing settles me, allowing me to pause for a bit and review my day. It has been a nice intention for the new year – to stop and think about what I want to remember about each day.

I have lots of questions for myself, beyond whether I’ll be able to write a poem a day. I’m wondering if there will be patterns to what I’m writing about, if I’ll revisit the same topics over and over again. I wonder if my poetry writing will improve, especially if I try to write into new and different forms of poetry. I wonder if I’ll feel ‘called’ to edit, rewrite, or rethink certain poems.

For now, I’m just exploring. Here’s today’s poem – from babysitting three-year-old Bird, my granddaughter.

she tucks herself in now

she never wants me to tarry
at naptime
insists I leave
and she unwinds
readies for bed
all by herself

she is growing up too quickly

later
I slip in
to witness
her stir from her nap

she is snuggling
under a blanket 

and laying right next to her
its small head poking out
is a plush small giraffe
nestled under its own little blanket

so dear

did she sing
did she coo
did she hold
the giraffe
before its nap?

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Life is Fleeting

Published on January 2, 2024

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

We just returned from a holiday week in Georgia – visiting my “in-laws,” the family and friends that I gained through marriage. Each day was filled with many wonderful connections with others, sharing meals and conversation. As always, we did lots of driving, meeting loved ones in sundry locations. I enjoyed looking out the car window as we drove about, taking in the sights. I took a few photos.

On the long drive home, I reviewed my phone photos and amused myself with tinkering with the lighting, zoom, and other editing tools. I was fascinated by several ‘nature’ snapshots – a pretty sunset, passing clouds, the trees on one of our walks. I’ve included a few here – little moments of awe that I happened to capture, and now I am able to hold onto, longer.

It was challenging to write while we drove; I am glad I had the camera to help me collect memories. When we got home, I wrote and wrote, trying to record the highs and lows of our adventure. As with those nature photos I took, this is the purpose of my daily writing practice: to hold onto, longer. Writing helps me hold precious moments, whether with loved ones, or in nature, or simply in my imagination.

I hope to do lots more writing in this new year.

When we pulled into the driveway after our long trip, the shrubs were noisy with happy birds, and so I played with a haiku –

bevy of chatter
starlings frolic in the bush
welcoming us home

In this new year, I seek again to create poetry and prose that builds on the good things in my life and allows me to hold these close, to be present, and to savor.

Life is fleeting. 
How might I hold it?

Hold onto
Hold up
Hold fast
Hold strong
Holding

My one little word for 2024 is hold.

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Feeling Stumped

Published on October 17, 2023

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

Gardening. This time of year, it can be soft and gentle, with such tasks as the dainty trimming of spent blossoms or a little light weeding between plants. I love to rake leaves into the gardening beds, to decompose over the winter. There’s joy, too, in digging an easy hole for a new plant; fall is a great time to introduce a new perennial.

This is what I was imagining when Tony suggested we head to our son’s for the day, to see his new front steps and to plant a few perennials from our yard into the adjacent garden bed. Sure! Let’s go plant these and then go for a walk down to that small lake near his house…that’ll be fun!

Not to be.

Yesterday, we were in the full muck of it, trying to dig up the wily roots and underground stump of a wisteria. Wisteria is an invasive plant here in the MidAtlantic, known for scaling tall trees and smothering them in gorgeous purple blossoms, basically strangling them to death. They also do great damage to walls and pathways located nearby, with their deep and widespread root system. This wisteria is a big reason why the stairs needed to be redone in the first place.

A ‘new’ shoot of wisteria caught my eye as soon as I stepped out of the car, growing up through the soil, so innocent and sweet – right alongside the new steps. Supposedly, the contractors “removed the wisteria” – but I had a feeling that ‘removed’ meant simply chopping down, not the necessary ‘digging up and out.’

There we were, the three of us, working for nearly four hours – digging, slogging, beating, shattering, lifting, cutting, sweating out this invasive. At least we had good weather! And, good company – it was fun to work together, however unexpectedly.

Funny, the main roots look so innocent, once they are out of the ground!

So much for popping in a few plants. Maybe we’ll go for a walk next time.

I’ll close with a little poetry fun –

feeling stumped

dirt mud slivers fly
                                             shatter split erupt
                  what a beast this is!
right here right here see
saw cut ax 
dig 
     
     deeper

can we lift it?
break it off?
where does this lead to?

what if we dance, pogo style
jump up and down 
oh no there’s another shoot
                                                                   way over here
get! 
            out! 
                          of! 
                                       here!

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What’s My Subject

Published on October 3, 2023

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

Years back, when I was part of a ‘new minister search committee’ for my church, someone opined –

“All ministers have basically five great sermons - 
everything they preach falls into those five themes.”

This thinking stuck with me, leaving me wondering – is that true for my writing, as well? Do I just go round and round, talking over and over about the same thing?

I have enjoyed Two Writing Teachers’ Slice of Life for many years, where I hone in on some experience from the previous week. As an early childhood teacher, there have been many slices about young children, and now that I am retired, my focus is often my grandchildren. I frequently write about my family, especially time spent with my husband and our travels. I enjoy writing about nature.

I strive to write about something unexpected that has happened, perhaps something as simple as an interaction with a stranger. Overall, I think these personal narratives do fall into five basic themes –

capturing a moment in the present
how things change over time
looking at things from a different perspective
how to be in community with others
how grief works

and I suppose there is sometimes a 6th, which is a big messy conglomeration of all of the above.

What is the catalyst for this rumination of mine? 
My oldest grandchild is turning 5 this month. 
How in the world have five years gone by?

Now, I am looking through the past five years of my writing and trying to create a memory book – the poems and essays that I have written about this dear child. I’m not sure if this memory book is for her or me, lol.

I am just amazed at the passage of time.

What are your top five topics or themes of writing?

I’ll close with a short poem of this week’s surprise – an unexpected day with our soon-to-be- five-year-old granddaughter, because she was sick.

unwell

tiny feet are wedged against my hip
pinning me to this corner of the couch
she sleeps in a folded z 
holding my hand tightly

the inconsistent rap of her breath
an intermittent low moan 
dark shadowed eyes and sweaty locks of hair
poor sweet miserable one

how many hours of my life have been
intertwined with a sick child
watching the chest move up down
wondering if their symptoms are 
worsening

time 
stands

absolutely

s t i l l

until they are up and running again

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Unsettled

Published on September 5, 2023

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

Expect the Unexpected

My friend shared how 
a week after her parent’s burial
they left the door unlocked and
this stranger
walked into their home
without knocking
an elderly woman
dressed in fleece despite the heat advisory
she walked in circles in their living room
passionately sharing a rambling story
a best friend 
a locked car
a game of hide and seek

My friend recognized her
as a neighbor from several blocks away
and they walked the confused soul 
back to her own home

I thought to myself - of course this happened, 
of course, of course, of course
It is the first days 
surrounding the death of a loved one
‘the season’ 

When my own father died 
three years ago
I experienced a heightened awareness of life
noticing a preponderance of 
unexpected sights and situations
The world opened in new ways
everything askew
fractures, all around 
mystery, awe, surprise, confusion, wonder

It’s as if you are living within
wild, unsettled lyrics of a Bob Dylan song
replete with unforeseen doorways, 
mirrors, silver canes, false eyelashes
you’re starin’ at butterflies
(the italicized are fragments of
Lily, Rosemary, and the Jack of Hearts)

these are first days of a ‘newdeath’
a transcendent time
a way of being, much like first days of a ‘newborn’

this tender while 
when the world becomes very different

the thin veil of curtain 
of the great unknown
is pulled aside 

yes, you feel

beginning with 
the hush when you enter the home
the whispered voices and loving caresses
dear ones gathering 
bringing food and flowers
moving softly, with great care

tears flow as you live
this raw edgy beauty

witnessing great loss 

       you pause and sob at wet mangled treasures from a stray cat
a death shrine amongst the flowers 
and then again
at a young child’s scraped knee 
needing
to wipe away pain

       you see the hummingbird float across the yard 
sense its sweet tremor

       you feel familiar foreboding 
throughout your body
when a friend tells how her loved one
broken and disoriented by dementia
undressed in front of a grandchild

	you urgently call for help
when you turn the corner downtown
and find the stranger 
slumped over
passed out
knowing
we are all connected

       you follow the wisps of clouds across the blue moon
believing in more

       you lay in bed and hear again
each stroke of the fumbling shovel
knowing love pours from dirt not held

       and when you sit alone
you cradle a cup of hot tea 
and listen 

how soft the ordinary 
how all is fragile
how every moment in time
tingles

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Woven Art

Published on August 22, 2023

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

I have this large white wall space above the family room ‘bump out,’ a real focal point of the room, that has been bugging me for months as it sat empty, post-remodeling. What should I hang there?

I have a beautiful, unique basket that I picked up many years ago – hand-made, local folk art. This flat weaving is created with four inch metal rings, covered with fabric remnants. I’ve never known quite what to do with it – but I loved it, all the same. My gut said – yes, hang this up in the new space! However, it was too small – it would be dwarfed by the wall itself. I loved the look of the basket, but I needed to find two more small pieces of handmade art, and hang these on either side, to balance the display.

Well, my passive hunt for this wall art ended this past week! At a local crafts fair, I found two 20- inch square rugs that I loved – hand-dyed from sheep’s wool, created in Afghanistan by a women’s cooperative, and sold here by Afghan refugees.

As soon as I saw these small rugs, I knew it – they’d be perfect for the wall. I sewed a small sleeve for a dowel, creating a way to hang these squares, all the while thinking about the women who made the rugs themselves.

My sewing reflections led to a poem, which I’ll share at the end of this post. The wall looks terrific, I think! The rugs are the perfect complement to the basket – let me show you:

woven

with my pinking shears
I cut fabric 
cotton sleeve for a dowel hanger

two small square rugs 
woven by women 
hand-dyed from sheep’s wool
in Afghanistan

women denied the right to work
their survival intertwined with
threads in all the colors of the earth

what do they think about as they weave?

in my sewing box
I find a pack of heavy-duty needles - upholstery rugs coats gloves canvas
a frayed memory unfolds
purchasing these at the corner store in Dupont Circle
years and years and years ago
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              
living on my own 
sewing curtains repairing my futon creating a larger rug 
from my grandmother’s carpet samples
I remember trying to affix fabric to my bookshelves
all by myself giddy with excitement 
corner apartment overlooking Rock Creek Park

this conviction
I can do that!
I am free to do what I like

the carpet needle in hand
I connect the fabric to the rugs
I sew love I sew tears I sew understanding
so grateful for my independence
my life

hand-made rugs holding women’s prayers
art in my home

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How Community Works

Published on August 8, 2023

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

I’ve been thinking wistfully about the preschool classroom, remembering how children learned to listen to one another.

Why is my mind on preschool?

My heart is heavy from an acrimonious meeting with adults. Those who spoke first essentially determined the agenda. The most emphatic discussion was about whether Robert’s Rules were being followed. People were silenced in the interest of rule-following. So much good community feeling was whittled away, as folks tripped over small procedural details. A few people spoke up over and over and over again; the quiet folks stayed mute; everyone was exhausted by the meeting’s end.

Dare I say, this was a church meeting?

Just ugly.

Now, our congregation is working on healing.

Add my voice to the chorus of voices who say that Robert’s Rules are not very equitable. (Here’s one, if you’re interested.)

Preschoolers learn ‘coming together’ means listening to varied perspectives. We need to participate with open minds…and extend grace to one another.

deciding together

preschool circle time
all of us together

teacher as mediator
traffic light
safety patrol
guide

alongside

tears laughter 
squeals shrieks
wiggles jumps
ups 
d
o
w
n
s 
nonstop 	unpredictable 	
movement

someone
can’t sit still
another squirrels away
there’s a twosome chatting
 rolling playing with each other
oh, and you!
so frustrated you weren’t called first
oops! someone needs to go to the bathroom
worst,
they already did

oh my
how am I to introduce
the ‘big idea’ of the day?

how will we
make decisions
together?

this is how the year begins 
this is the teaching

three year olds
learning how 

to be together

and always
at some imprecise point 
after circling up several times in a day
every single school day
this learning 
suddenly

falls 
into 
place

there is magic 
our community working together

(hopefully, the calendar says October, not June)
 
why do the children know
why do the children show
why do the children sow
community

better than adults?

they
greet one another
look at one another
give space to one another
take turns talking
wait their turn
moderate one’s voice 
listen to and consider ideas of others
build on a friend’s ideas
make decisions together 

they trust community

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Acadia Travels

Published on July 18, 2023

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

I’ve just returned from a wonderful family vacation in Acadia, Maine. I missed the ‘Slice of Life’ last week for the first time in months, due to spotty wifi and unending fun. How to describe the many sweet moments and gorgeous scenery? Let me share a few photos and tales.

We explored from sandy beaches to rocky cliffs. Throughout the park, there were wild blueberries on the rocky edges of paths. Most were still a bit green for picking, but we snacked on a ripe few. There were historic cairns as guides along the trails. We had lots of animal sightings – frogs, turtles, deer, crabs, sea urchins, and more. On our first walk, just as my son and I were passing by a marshy area, a barred owl took flight not ten feet from us – magnificent!

Deep in the woods, I stopped from time to time to listen to the delightful chatter of new-to-me birds (thank you, Merlin app, for helping me identify these precious sounds!) – red-eyed vireo, dark-eyed junco, black-capped chickadee, golden-crown kinglet, and a variety of warblers with adorable names – black-throated green warbler, yellow-rumped warbler, magnolia warbler. I heard these birds so frequently, I began to recognize their calls.

Early morning at Cadillac Mountain, our views were obscured by mist and fog. It was exquisite, all the same – and made for somewhat cooler hiking. We hiked along Dorr Mountain trail and enjoyed more visibility as the morning progressed.

Look closely, and you can see my granddaughter Frog standing on an outcropping. I remain awed by her prowess on the challenging rock scrambles of this and other hikes – she is only four and half years old, and moves with courage, flexibility, and desire. She was amazing! I, on the other hand, have returned home with new fitness goals for myself, in hopes of being stronger for next summer’s family hiking trip. I became so fatigued on this hike, I could only climb up higher on rocks by using my two hands to lift my leg up. Oh my!

Tony loved the hikes where you reach the summit and partake in these extraordinary panoramas. I was thrilled by these, too, but the Acadia tidal pools nourished my soul. We had planned our visits with low tide, allowing us to see the beautiful diversity of these fragile regions. The beaches filled with rounded rocks in brown, orange, red, yellow – these were absolutely exquisite.

I am filled with many special memories from this beautiful national park. Let me close with a poem I wrote yesterday, for Ethical ELA’s OpenWrite…a ‘venn diagram’ poem about the different parts of Acadia that Tony & I loved, and the overlap between the two.

Acadia

he treasured the vistas
panoramic views from mountaintops
sweaty exertion of climbing
weaving paths negotiating roots scrambling rocks  
our hiking chatter grunts laughter

tide pools mesmerized me
close intimate looking and tiny finds
slow steady careful stepping
so many lives both strong and fragile 
waves rippling rocks

invigorating
all our senses, tingling
immersed in precious wonder
being in nature
together

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Georgia On My Mind

Published on June 27, 2023

It is Tuesday and time to write a 'Slice of Life." 
Thank you  Two Writing Teachers for creating this supportive community
of teacher-writers!

We’ve been in Georgia for the past week, for the annual reunion of my husband’s family. He is one of 13 children, with only four still living, and this leads to quite the crowd. There are spouses, children, grandchildren, and even a few great grandchildren for the oldest siblings. The reunion was on Saturday, but we made a week of it, visiting with different family members and friends for longer meet ups. It is a wonderful tradition to start our summer.

Driving back today, I looked through photos and reflected on conversations…it led to a bit of a poem. I need to work on this still, but here’s my slice of life…

Georgia On My Mind

the June reunion takes us back
over many miles and memories

a steady rain as we drive
seems to echo the mind’s machinations
whispering yet insisting,
saturating

all the cooking from the heart
butter peas, crowder peas, green beans
cornbread, mac-n-cheese
okra and dressing
(made just like Mimi always did)
pies, pound cake, chocolate delight
so many family favorites 
be sure to have a bite of everything

thirty-five years of showing up
has worn down 
the suspicion of me, 
the one raised ‘east coast, Catholic,’
yet it lingers askance
like framing on old weathered barns 

maybe I’m one of those little stone houses
staying put
strong and steady 

in their midst yet on the periphery
I love it here

dear ones open up to me
sharing confidences
the buttered biscuit on the side
taking all the juices in

now I’m remembering all the kudzu 
creating funny monsters against the Georgian blue
or is it simply keeping secrets
saying, no, not now, no light on this
keep quiet about that

let me think on this
maybe I’ll share more later

simply remember
the chortle of the littles
as they ran and laughed
together

family is precious

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