A poem a day for a month – Page 23

#372: Day 28 Hummingbird Haiku

My sophomores, under the gentle tutelage of a wonderfully gifted student teacher, are distance learning about imagery, beyond the sort of rudimentary understanding that imagery is language that appeals to the senses, into a deeper knowledge that imagery plays on both the intellect and the emotions, that it is associative, that it often works bestContinue reading “#372: Day 28 Hummingbird Haiku”

#371: Monday Review

I’d give it two stars. I’d say that so far, its performance has been uneven, like it can’t decide really what it wants to be. Heavy rain early, then cloudy, then a clearing, dry enough for a dog walk, but too damn warm. Muggy, almost. Monday has forgotten that we live in the PacificContinue reading “#371: Monday Review”

#367: For Its Own Sake

Here’s a question. What motivates a person to do a thing, especially a thing that is purported to be good for a person–let’s say, eat right, exercise, learn an instrument, learn an instrument well, dance, sing, paint, or act well, and while we’re at it, add into the mix all the academic endeavors: write well, readContinue reading “#367: For Its Own Sake”

#348: On the Last Day of National Poetry Month, the American English Teacher Writes Several Minimalist Poems About Things He Finds in the Staff Lounge

Coffee Made a single cup; fuel needed after waking at 4 in the morning. Vinegar There’s a bottle of balsamic on the table, waiting to be drizzled over someone’s leftovers for lunch. 100 Hits Here’s a copy of Billboard’s Hottest Hot 100 Hits, a gift to the staff lounge from an intern of mine fromContinue reading “#348: On the Last Day of National Poetry Month, the American English Teacher Writes Several Minimalist Poems About Things He Finds in the Staff Lounge”

#347: A Prose Poem Meditation on the Penultimate Day of National Poetry Month by the American English Teacher in His Potentially Penultimate Professional Year, Ending in a Rhyming Couplet

The natives are restless, the 9th graders are rowdy, won’t stop talking, interrupt almost every teacher phrase with chatter, and because my intern has the class, I am completely unruffled. It’s the penultimate day of National Poetry Month and this is my penultimate poem in prose in the April of my potentially penultimate school yearContinue reading “#347: A Prose Poem Meditation on the Penultimate Day of National Poetry Month by the American English Teacher in His Potentially Penultimate Professional Year, Ending in a Rhyming Couplet”

#346: I Drove Through the Desert and Back Over a Mountain to Get Home

I drove for three hours, through the desert and back over a mountain, to get home. Listening to XTC the whole way, I felt every twenty minutes or so tears of gratitude welling up, which I staved off, because I was driving at sixty-five miles per hour and singing along to every single song, neitherContinue reading “#346: I Drove Through the Desert and Back Over a Mountain to Get Home”

#345: According to This Map

I have lived for a long time now in the country of Autumn, ruminating in the mountains near the capital city of Change, trying to see my way back into Summer. I know I’m going to hike my way through Somewhere on my way over the Plains of Solitude, and I may have to takeContinue reading “#345: According to This Map”

#344: I Drove Over the Mountain to Get Here

I drove over the mountain to get here. I drove over Mount Hood. I drove over the mountain into the desert. Eventually, I ended up close to three other mountains, the ones we call The Sisters. I drove over the mountain to get here. This is the place where I will try to help peopleContinue reading “#344: I Drove Over the Mountain to Get Here”

#343: The Steampunks of Spring

The Steampunks of Spring Two octopuses sit on the window sill sporting their top hats and flight goggles, little works of art made mostly from recycled odds and ends, scrap leather, gears, watch parts, wheels, lucite grapes, steel wire, old jewelry, junk. Behind them, through the glass, Spring arrives. The oaks are alive with squawking crows andContinue reading “#343: The Steampunks of Spring”