Saturday, September 26, 2009


Last week's readwritepoem prompt was to write about ourselves in epic or exaggerated terms. Here is my ode to English teachers...

I don’t tilt at windmills,
I make the semicolon salient.
I don’t swing from vines,
I swoop in and save
dangling modifiers.
No mere Rapunzel in a tower,
I coax others to let down their hair
And weave it into a cogent argument.
I don’t ride through the village warning of danger,
I whip up a Wordsworthian warning
Of our getting and spending
And the world being too much with us.
My battle cry is not do or die
But be not afraid
Of Whitman
Or Dickinson:
Feel that cleaving in your brain and
Contain multitudes in it!
Know yourself to be nobody
And sing a song of yourself!
I am a sage for our age,
A patron saint of syntax,
A lion of lyricism,
A conqueror of commas gone wrong!
At every turn I offer wise counsel:
Avoid the cliché
Substantiate your generalizations
Cite your sources
Mix your metaphors wisely
And for God’s sake
Pluralize nouns
With apostrophes.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Purring with pride in my sculptor husband...

Check out the progress Rick's making on the Mead High School panther!

Autumnal Relief

The flu prevented me from answering the call of last week's readwritepoem prompt, but I was able to rework this poem about summer's end. I originally wrote this in '08, but edited it down a bit this weekend.

I can't help but welcome

Sun that doesn't burn

And is not a threat

To my wary skin.

And I'm tired

Of the heightened


For fun

I did what I did

This summer

And it's done.

Why bemoan summer's end?

At best it is

A flighty friend, who,

Keenly aware

Of her own popularity,

Arrives late and leaves early.

The life of the party's appeal

Is predicated upon

Limited supply

And great demand.

The illusion of celebrity

Is damaged

by overexposure

Just like my skin

Is damaged

By too much


And it's such a relief

To feel order

Reinstate itself

In my loafing mind.

The kitchen

And the classroom

Are calling.

I will bake bread.

I will cook stew.

I will grade papers.

And I will sleep well

In the slowly



Saturday, September 12, 2009


Photo: Light and Trees by Grieg Fraser
This is in response to readwritepoem's prompt #91. Check out their site for details on the prompt. I didn't expect to get here from there...
At night before the sun
Dances between
The branches of our trees
The girl I think I was
Sleeps surrounded
By your solid leather
And the smell of your
Fresh and foreign skin
Completely contained
In the courtyard of your arms
And the solidity
Of your direct action
Your forward motion
Your now my then

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

150 posts!

Hello to all of my blog friends! I'm sorry I haven't been too chatty and responsive to your comments lately. I've been busy, busy, busy starting a new semester. Please know that I am grateful to all of you who stop by to read my poetry posts--friends, family, bloggers, readwritepoem-ers--your visits let me know that I am not just sending poetry out into the void!

My last post, "Flame Throwing," was my 150th post. I certainly could not imagine producing 150 posts when I started this little adventure. So thank you for your interest and inspiration!

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Flame Throwing

Last week's readwritepoem prompt gave us this picture by bradleyowen for inspiration.

I know what it is
to balance a wheel of fire
stubborn on my chin
to throw too many
tongues of flame and keep them high
enough to distract
my lidless blue eyes
from the inevitable