#SOL

You only fail if you stop writing. ~ Ray Bradbury

I sat at the computer but could not write.
The blank page was staring at me
teasing,
taunting,
mocking me.
So cruel.

I know there must be thoughts inside.
The words are there but they are
failing,
deserting,
betraying me.
So unkind.

I am in a writing funk.
My mood is like the weather
damp,
gloomy,
Chilling me.
So disheartening.

I will not let this overtake me.
The sun will shine again
inspiring,
encouraging,
motivating me.
So hopeful.

 #SOL

Everyone has a story. ~ Neil Labute

Every day during the month of April, my ELA class begins with a poem prompt – a mentor poem. After we read the poem aloud a few times, the students take turns “noticing” things about the poem – its form, rhyming or not, topic, word choice etc. As the month goes on the “noticing” really induces great discussion about author’s craft.

The students then try their hands at writing in the form of that poem. Sometimes they work in pairs, sometimes alone. They usually have a choice. I always write with them and sometimes share my “best” lines with the class.

This poem was inspired by “Every Cat Has a Story” by Shihab Nye.

Every Pen Has a Story.

The blue one from Beneficial Bank
was her favorite.
It wrote in blue ink
She always used it
to write in her writer’s notebook.

The green one from Lansdale Catholic
was only used at faculty meetings.
It wrote in black ink and had a syllus tip too.
It seemed important.

One pen sat
at the bottom of her schoolbag.

One pen sat on her desk
waiting to get the chance
to correct papers.

One pen wrote
in gel ink.

One pen was all dried up.

#SOL16 Day 24

Spring is nature’s way of saying ‘Let’s Party.’ ~ Robin Williams

Sunroof open wide
Radio turned up full blast
Spring break is heaven!

Local team leading
Squeeking sneakers balls bouncing
March Madness is here!

Fun to be Nona
Filling baskets for grandkids
Need to stop shopping!

#SOL16 Day 21

When you know yourself you are empowered. When you accept yourself you are invincible. ~ Tina Lifford.

Autumn Lover
Baseball fan
Creature of Habit
DiCarne
Educator
Friend
Grateful
High School Sweethearts
In-law
Jazz Lover
Kindred spirits
Level-headed
Musician
Nona
Obliging
Pennsylvanian
Quiet
Rita
Sister
Tolerant
Uncertain
Vulnerable
Writer
Xoxo
Yielding
Zaftig

 

#SOL16 Day 12

There’s nothing half so pleasant as coming home again. ~Margaret Elizabeth Sangster

A candle flickers; it lights the way
to the place we rest at the end of day.
Here we can lay our burdens down
and feel the love that is all around.
It is where we can laugh, and cry, and shout,
where family understands what we’re all about
No matter where or how far we roam,
there is no better feeling than coming home.

#SOL16 Day 11

All journeys have a secret destination of which the traveler is unaware. ~ Martin Buber

Surrounded by many, I travel alone
Tentatively, one step at a time
Like a tightrope walker
Clinging
Anticipating a road sign, a mile marker, a clue
Yet finding none
Where am I going?

Journeying onward – still alone
Longing to return to the familiar
Like a refugee
Searching
Eyes seeking a flicker, a beacon, a light
Blinded by the darkness
Where am I going?

Trying to read the stars, I travel alone
Their light fading with my gaze
Like a nomad
Lost
Longing, yet pushing on – adrift, afraid, alone
Without a compass or map
Where am I going?

Where am I going?
Perhaps the destination is not for me to know,
But to discover.
When I get there, I will recognize and understand,
I will arrive on the wings of those who walked with me
when I feared solitude.

#SOL16 Day 9

We didn’t realize we were making memories; we just knew we were having fun. ~Unknown

I am from the rusty cellar door,
from lily of the valley and roller skate keys.
I am from the front bay window
that looks out towards the oak tree.

I am from the lilac bush,
the peach trees
those long limbs I remember
as if thery were my own.

I’m from tinsel on Christmas trees and bad knees,
From Lucy and Al.
I’m from listening to Phillies home games on the radio,
and changing TV channels by hand,
and from catching lightning bugs in the backyard.

I’m from “Sit up straight” and
“Your turn to weed the garden.”
I’m from canning jars.

I’m from Philadelphia and “What parish are you from?”
keilbasa and saurkraut, and ravioli
from my grandfather who chased squirrels from his garden with tin pie pans
and who trimmed my father’s fig tree without permission.

In my mother’s storage unit there are bins
stuffed with photos
of familiar and unfamiliar faces.

I made these memories,
and these memories made me.