In the meantime, enjoy the responses I have made to other prompts.

Monday, September 4, 2017

Thoughts a few days into my 15th year as a 7th grade math teacher


Observations from the Classroom

Students these days
are pressured in ways
never pressured before.
With input they're flooded,
their confidence, gutted, 
truths we cannot ignore.



Saturday, September 2, 2017

My Tweet

#POTUS

When your primary characteristic
is perceived to be narcissistic,
just how are we to be optimistic?




Sunday, August 27, 2017

A Pond Poetry image prompt of hands tied together. It had to be the Kyrielle form.

We are Women

Although still bound, to some extent,
ropes have loosened for our daughters.
A growing force that won't relent,
we are testing deeper waters.

True we've yet to balance the scale,
but we see, at least, it totters.
In time parity will prevail.
We are testing deeper waters.

I wish Ms. Anthony could see -
the life we live now is not hers.
but close to one she dreamed could be.
We are testing deeper waters.

Although still bound, to some extent,
we are testing deeper waters. 



A Kyrielle - a 14 line poem with 8 syllables per line. The rhyme scheme is AbaB cbcB dbdB AB, which means the last line repeats and the first and last lines of the first stanza are the last two lines of the poem.

Another Writer's Cramp prompt - a 24-hour prompt-based contest - which was the title.

He was a Friend of Mine

Once upon a time,
that boy,
he was a friend of mine.
Our backyards, borderless.
His house was mine,
mine his,
as if we were brothers.

Once upon a time,
that boy,
he was a friend of mine.
Same classes, same sports, same teams.
He, a little better at baseball,
me, at soccer.
Neither of us showed any promise in football.
He struggled with school.
I did what I could to help him out.

Once upon a time,
that boy,
he was a friend of mine
until high school happened
and we no longer shared any classes.
Until my own studying, baseball and piano practices and participation on the math competition team left me little free time to help him out.
Until academic performance kept him off the baseball team.
Until the fence went up around our backyard and entrance into each other's house required knocking.
Until his dad left.

Once upon a time,
that boy,
he was a friend of mine,
but then he was put in the Alternate Program because he missed too many days of school and failed several classes,
so I heard.
But then he found new brothers and together they discovered ways to cope with the pressures of high school,
of life,
so I heard.

Yes,
once upon a time,
that boy, -
that boy who died of "unexpected causes,"
(so I read) -
he was a friend of mine. 




A response to a Writer's Cramp prompt relating to Christmas in August.

Bah Humbug!

There's something wrong
when early Fall
I travel to
a shopping mall
and in the stores
what first I see
are garland and
a Christmas tree!

You merchants think
with this, somehow,
I'll start to shop
for Christmas now
and never stop,
I do believe,
until the night
of Christmas Eve.

But I'm afraid,
for me I'd say,
although I love
the holiday,
I cannot shop;
I have to wait
'til turkey's done
to celebrate!

It's not about
your corporate worth;
it is about
a savior's birth,
but this event
on you is lost.
You're focused on
an object's cost.

Your profit line,
I understand,
but your supply 's
not my demand.
To take a stance,
I must be gone
to shop at home
from this day on.

Friday, August 18, 2017

To the Alt-Right

How hard the heart you've filled with hate. 
How troublesome your mental state. 
Your stance with mine, I can't equate. 
But I'd be glad to educate.



Monday, August 14, 2017

#charlottesville

Rhetorical Questions
What shallow minds consider birth
to be the measure of their worth?
If skin and looks are all you see, 
what narrow vision must there be?
How can we make this country great
when those within are filled with hate?