I wonder, would my poem have been celebrated in the classroom or would it have been set aside because I failed to follow directions explicitly?read more
There are times when I must go to the sea. This past week was one of those times.read more
Three very loud blasts, like a blaring horn, shattered the quiet with a suddenness that makes you panic. I felt a strange tension run through me for a moment.read more
Sacredness surrounds me
in the wonder of creation
my heart praises God.
I marvel that they sing such songs in this their darkest night. Such joy, peace, love — they give to all of us in their songs.read more
This post, inspired by primary teachers who joined me during the workshops, is a recap one of the activities we did, an activity to build background knowledge, introduce rich vocabulary, and provide descriptive models during our discussion about prewriting … using poetry.read more
Words were swelling out of my spirit like a mighty sword . . .read more
You must accept
or reject the story.
I was a child on that day / sitting on the shoulders of my uncle / part of a great multituderead more
Sometimes the petals float down in a soft shower, drifting on a spring breeze. It is such a lovely sight.
Under the falling darkness
as day fades and night engulfs
I think of light and warmth.
The campfire pulls me in . . .
Not all appreciation is expressed with a “thank you.”
#SOLC19 No. 31.
As she blended a smoothie, Grandma
cautioned “Pays to pay attention,
or caged birds eatin’
seeds is what you’uns’ll be.”
#SOLC19 No. 30
He looked at his glass with sadness.
#SOLC19 No. 29 and #PoetryFriday
“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” -Elie Wiesel
#SOLC19 No. 28
I was sitting tall on my bike trying to catch the full effect of the air moving over my body, hoping it would offer some relief to the heat. I rode deliberately under the low branches of oaks, mulberries, and pecans that lined our streets.
#SOLC19 No. 27
During the last days of summer, the days that are dry and hot without a breath of a breeze, a sweet fruity aroma hovers over our yard. It is the smell of autumn. Of pears ripening.
#SOLC19 No. 26
She waltzed by me, stopped, and asked what I was reading. I said, “Poetry. I will read you a poem.”
#SOLC19 No. 25
With the airport behind and a huge traffic snarl ahead, I gasp, “THAT WAS OUR EXIT!”
#SOLC19 No. 24
It was late afternoon, and the sun was casting long shadows on the road where Amelia and a group of village children walked. Just at the edge of the village they came to a bridge that crossed a small stream with wide, flat banks.