If I understand you correctly. If pigs fly and monkeys land on their tails about as often as they land on their heads and write the words of Shakespeare. If Shakespeare turns out to be a group of monkeys. If Jesus was just some wise guy, not a three-stooges wiseguy, but a man who exceededContinue reading “#324: If In 30 Lines”
Tag Archives: National Poetry Month
#323: Good or Bad?
(a villanelle on a stolen line from Hamlet) Nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so, says Hamlet, and I tend to think he’s right, but bad weather and evil persist, you know. There could possibly be another show that proves it’s all subjective, right? Nothing either good or bad but thinking makesContinue reading “#323: Good or Bad?”
#322: Sad Poem
Both of my parents died, for starters. Not at once, of course, but within seven or eight years of one another. Daddy passed first and we watched him die, the whole family, a vigil in the meeting room of the nursing home where they sent him after a final, last ditch, unnecessary surgery where heContinue reading “#322: Sad Poem”
#321: The American English Teacher Receives a Note from the Benevolent Rabbit Society
My only wish is that they would have gone for something more alliterative: Benevolent Bunny sounds better and simultaneously more bouncy than Rabbit. But none of that overshadows the fact that, for the first time in my career as a public school teacher, I and a few of my colleagues have received a tip. ItContinue reading “#321: The American English Teacher Receives a Note from the Benevolent Rabbit Society”
#320: What Was the Question? That Is the Question
I’ve got no business on the moon. Looking for me once, somebody said, a famous poet, find me here, find me there, something about dirt and grass. I can get behind that. Who was it who said time waits for no man? Or time heals the wounds? Or, time is on my side, yes, itContinue reading “#320: What Was the Question? That Is the Question”
#319: How to Write a Poem Every Day
Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends called National Poetry Writing Month, or NaPoWriMo for short. Here is my first of 30 attempts, my seventh year in a row. The number 319 in my title, FYI, represents the number of poems I have published on the mighty blog, 180 of which wereContinue reading “#319: How to Write a Poem Every Day”
Diary of an English Teacher in His Penultimate Year, Redux: Time On Our Side?
Synchronicity, as Jung described it, is a meaningful coincidence, an “acausal connecting principal.” Things happen back to back that seem to be meaningfully related; even though the first thing could not be said to have caused the second thing, we still feel the buzz or the chill of revelation, usually in a thrilling and positiveContinue reading “Diary of an English Teacher in His Penultimate Year, Redux: Time On Our Side?”
Diary of an English Teacher in His Penultimate Year, Redux: Teacher Appreciation and Spring Break Randomness
First of all, here’s a thing a student of mine wrote in response to the question: what does e. e. cummings say in his poetry about being and unbeing? When e.e cummings talks about being and unbeing the message that he’s pretraying [sic] is that to be [is] not to be and not to beContinue reading “Diary of an English Teacher in His Penultimate Year, Redux: Teacher Appreciation and Spring Break Randomness”
#316: Chakras and Chi Balls (the Last Poem of April)
Some people associate a rainbow of colors with various parts of their bodies and they ascribe certain powers or characteristics of their psycho-emotional life to these various colors or energies; Some people think you can concentrate on a color, say, orange, and a body place, say, your privates, and that somehow your relationships will beContinue reading “#316: Chakras and Chi Balls (the Last Poem of April)”
#315: On the Penultimate Day of April, the English Teacher in his Penultimate Year Writes a Long Rambling Poem Inspired by Sylvia Plath’s Burst of Productivity in the Months Before She Died
I’m not going anywhere, but (having lost now both mom and dad) I notice thoughts about mortality enter the noggin with more frequency these days. I’m reading, or rather, listening to Life Reimagined, where Barbara Bradley Hagerty argues essentially that there is really no such thing as a mid-life crisis for most mid-lifers. Much of thatContinue reading “#315: On the Penultimate Day of April, the English Teacher in his Penultimate Year Writes a Long Rambling Poem Inspired by Sylvia Plath’s Burst of Productivity in the Months Before She Died”
michael jarmer 