#460: There was in that crazy business . . .

Here’s the third sonnet in a trilogy, the result of a sudden sonnetplosion about my 32 years as a high school English teacher, 32 years in the same school. The second sonnet in this series pretended to be about things I’d miss about the profession, but turned out to be kind of the opposite thing.Continue reading “#460: There was in that crazy business . . .”

#459: However, there are things I truly miss . . .

Here’s the second poem in today’s sonnet trilogy. (II) However, there are things I truly miss.Not the rat race of it, the perpetualFrantic pace, the bureaucratic bullshit,Pendulum swing of best schoolhouse practice;         Not the bells of it, slaving to schedules, clocks,And calendars, the battle between plansAnd grades, always decisions about whatTo neglect out of pure necessity; NotContinue reading “#459: However, there are things I truly miss . . .”

Who’s Counting? One Last One More

One for the road. Last tango. One tin soldier. Last one out. One trick pony. This final one is especially fun because the word “one” can be an adjective to describe how many tricks the pony can do. This pony can only do one trick. Or, the word “trick” can be an adjective to describeContinue reading “Who’s Counting? One Last One More”

Who’s Counting? Two

Courtesy of The Fact Site, the number 2 is the first prime number, and it’s either the third or fourth number in the Fibonacci sequence–and that’s significant because math is beautiful and everywhere. Courtesy of Three Dog Night, “2 can be as bad as 1; it’s the loneliest number since the number 1,” followed byContinue reading “Who’s Counting? Two”

Who’s Counting? Four

Four Cardinal directions. Four gospels. Four horsemen. Four Beatles. Four Monkees. Four seasons. Four beats in a bar of 4/4. Four more days in the school year. Three days with students and a single work day for teachers, culminating awkwardly on a Tuesday. Four days until I count myself officially a “retiree.” First up onContinue reading “Who’s Counting? Four”

Who’s Counting? Five

The side effects from my second booster lingered all the way through the day yesterday, so that by the time I went to bed, I felt worse than I had all day. After another bout with some chills and uncontrollable shaking, another somewhat feverish night’s sleep, I wake up feeling almost normal on this fifthContinue reading “Who’s Counting? Five”

#429: My Friend the Media Specialist (a poem on April 22, 2022)

My friend the media specialist(we used to call them librarians)gifted me this morning a prompt for a poem. My friend the media specialistsays the word “precarity” might make a good subject. “Precarity,” I say. “Is that likethe feeling or state of precariousness?” My friend the media specialistsays, “Yes, precarious, uncertain,tentative, vulnerable, transitory, dependent on chance.”Continue reading “#429: My Friend the Media Specialist (a poem on April 22, 2022)”

#411: A Poem of Forgetfulness on April 7, 2022

Three different spoonscame out of the silverware drawerthis morning before I rememberedthat I had forgottenI already had a spoon. Yesterday in front of a groupof students I could not thinkof the word “phonetic”–What’s that word, I asked, the word we use when wetalk about spelling a wordthe way it sounds? I came up with “phonically”andContinue reading “#411: A Poem of Forgetfulness on April 7, 2022”

Back At It To Celebrate National Poetry Month

Dear readers, fellow bloggers and poets, friends, Romans, countrymen, Lend me your ears and eyes, if you would. Every year there is a dry spell, a fallow period for yours truly in which almost nothing gets written. The last time I posted, it was December, 2021. This year that fallow period was way longer thanContinue reading “Back At It To Celebrate National Poetry Month”

A Journal of the Plague Year: #28

Here are some details about a typical Saturday over the last month or so: I’ll have a leisurely morning, drink coffee, eat a light breakfast, walk the dogs, make plans for the yard, eat a heavier lunch, drop off cans at the bottle drop, buy records at the curbside of Music Millennium, dog bones atContinue reading “A Journal of the Plague Year: #28”