NPM: Poem 25

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  This poem...the topic...not so fun...


Just One More Day

Life taken by self.
Time just could not wait.
Emotions arise in ourselves.
Memories will not abate.

The day after...
Full of...
Sunshine,
Spring,
Life.

Oh, to have waited
Just one more day.
Hope to be stated,
Life's reasons to portray.

Oh, to have waited
Just one more day...
Would we have listened
Or the inevitable simply delayed?

A reminder to all,
To pause,
To listen to mind's call
To remind of probable cause
To wait, to pray, to make a difference.

Oh, to have waited...
Just one more day...

RIP Resource Officer John Carroll,
He always cared.
He always paused.
A model to our children, our students.

Thank you.

Oh, to have waited...
Just one more day.

An Author Opportunity

Thanks to my friend Rose, I appreciated the time spent with book lovers and writers this past weekend.  Fun!

Arkansas's Harding University and Dr. Ken Stamatis host four author weekends a year, bring young adult authors to our state, creating a hiatus for teachers and lovers of the written word.  Each seemed to enjoy getting to know Roland Smith, author of novels and non-fiction that seem to particularly appeal to males.

While I do not remember reading any of his works, I do now owned two signed novels:  Peak and IQ.

I especially appreciated his discussing the amount of prewriting that goes into writing a novel, all the research that must be conducted, the immersion into a topic.  He then reiterated the intensity of the revising and editing process.  This, I hope to share with my students who seem to quick to draft and print, often totaling skipping these vital steps.

Check out these authors on the 2015-2016 Young Adult Authors Weekend:

1. Katherine Paterson:  Bridge to Terabithia (need I say more?!)
2. Deborah Wiles:  Revolution, Countdown
3. Kwame Alexander:  Crossover
4. TBA

Now, imagine being able to take young adults to meet and listen to these authors!  That's my dream...to take two students per session, two that are involved in our student book club. I have a dream...to write a grant and receive the funds to make this happen.  I hope.  I dream.  I will write.

Now, I read...the weekend has arrived, my papers are graded, time for well-deserved reading time!

Happy weekend!

NPM: Poem 24

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.

Hard Lessons

Today, The Girl was fired.
For her misdeeds?
Or revenge?

Face to face,
I listened
To reasons, to rationale.

My teaching motto always:
Be firm.
Be fair.
Be consistent.

The standard:
No bullying.
No lying.

Today, The Girl was fired.
Not for her misdeeds.
For standards I hold too high
For some who cannot, will not reach.

Just let me say, for in the South we do,
"Bless her heart," for with these words,
tacking on other truths, allowed they are.

No?

Probably, no.

In the South,
today,
I must say,
to keep from saying
too much,
Lord, please, just bless her heart.
You will have to bless,
For my wrath must decrease.

Hurt The Girl.
Hurt me.

That revenge?
Stemming from?
My words.
Truthful.
Harsh.

Today, my girl was fired.
Lord, You, please, bless both of their hearts.
The revenger...the young one.

Two hurting.
Mom and Daughter.

Recover we will.
Hard lessons.
Learned.

NPM: Poem 23

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem each day.  Fun!

Senior Seminar Board

So proud of each and every one.
Planning, practicing, presenting,
To peers, teachers, and community persons.

Three weeks of planning:
Resume.
Essay.
Outline.
PowerPoint.

A weekend of practicing.
Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
Checking time and standing tall.
Time constraints,
Word choice must be precise.

Four days of presenting.
Ten sections do represent,
Their perspectives,
All based on evidence.
Dressed to the nines
Their images redefined.

Planning.
Practicing.
Presenting.

The sighs.
The relief.
The excitement.

Each spoke to the board, not bored.
They are proud.
I am proud.

Today, complete.
Senior Seminar Board 2015.

NPM: Poem 17

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem.  Fun!

Mission Accomplished

Assignments assigned.
Deadlines changed.
Inbox begins to fill.
What's the deal?

Essay where?
For Inbox, not there.

Much nashing and whaling,
Much dialing and explaining.
That Inbox?
Yes, beginning to fill.

Mrs. G, she's so tough,
Too hard.
"What?!  I'm a senior,
Coasting I should be."

Unfortunately, senior year
Philosophies do clash.

That Inbox?
Full.

Expectations met.
Philosophy accept.
Mission 2015
Will be accomplished.

NPM: Poem 16

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

How Do You Do What You Do?

How do I do what I do?
Let me tell you...
all because of you and you and you!

I so wish you knew
What motivation you inspire,
even as you inquire.

Let me tell you how I do what do...
because of family: husband and daughter.
As athletes need spotters,
So they support me
With love so strong, ears that often long
For change of topic...yet patiently they endure.
My projects, my ideas, they reassure.

Let me tell you more...
This drive spurred on by friends:
Brenda, Donna, Crystal,
With ideas and dreams entrusted,
We decorate, season by season,
Spurred on by one true reason,
One soul to win, one seed to plant,
Fun, food, and fellowship.

Let me tell you more...
This drive spurred by on by friends:
Rose, Joyce, Glenda, Brenda M,
As off to women's conferences attending,
As the Lord our souls mending.
Learning, singing, worshiping.

Let me tell you more...
This drive spurred on by friends:
Katie, Pastor Kenny, Lisa, Zelpha...and more...
Teaching, leading, defending,
Learning, growing, extending.
Again, one goal:
A soul, a seed,
Even if just one.

Let me tell you more...
This drive spurred on by peers:
Amanda, Justin, Kathy, JimBob...and so many more...
Who, every day, through highs and lows,
Who, every day, through losses and gains,
We teach and grow and inspire and..
Sometimes, tough love just demands
That we teach and grow and inspire.

Let me tell you more...
This drive spurred on by siblings dear:
Judy, Janet, and Joe,
Encouraging, praying for me they expound
As their love does mound.
Asking I do less; proud when I do more.

May I tell you why I do what I do?
I am wife, mother, teacher, friend, sister.
I do because that is just who I am.

NPM: Poem 15

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

Pink Roses

So delicate in color and fragrance,
So pretty petal on petal,
So perfect for the deliverer delivered.

Little did she know that these brought peace
In the midst of the storm.
Little did she know that Powers beyond her,
That gentle tugging of the spirit
To which she responded,
That was the calming of today's storm.

This morning, I asked for peace in the upcoming storm.
This afternoon, peace arrived
In color and fragrance,
Petal on petal,
For the Deliverer delivered.

Today, He used my girl,
Who responded with then quietness in her own way,
For there they lay.
The sign,
The symbol,
The answer.

Sometimes, He calms the storm.
Sometimes, He calms me.

NPM: Poem 14

In celebration on National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

I wrote the following poem as my opening selection for the Poetry Slam the White River Reading Council hosted along with Lyon College's Mortar Board.

Slammin' with The Poetics

Meeting tonight with peers, students,
And the, oh, so talented speakers of The Spoken Word.
To chant, to feel, to move, to empower
Those who sit, who absorb, who then are moved. 

What is this Spoken Word?
What are these rhymes that lure?
What are the motives behind this emotional tour? 

The answer: 

We celebrate the language,
The love of words.
We celebrate the images they convey,
The responses we survey. 

Then, 

We empathize with common brothers and sisters of the Word.
No, not a nerd,
A fellow writer, a fellow speaker.
To revelation, we are a seeker.

Tonight,

I am slammin’ with the Poetics,
Ready now for your words to mix,
Along with mine, along with others,
Speaking of friends, fathers, and mothers. 

Tonight,I am slammin’ with the Poetics,
As we celebrate language’s ebb and flow,
As our emotions along do tow.
What a privilege, what an honor,
Now, your turn,
Now, on your words we ponder.

NPM: Poem 13

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

This poem, first published on Faceback, honors my brother...

The Baby, The Brother, The Man

On this day, he became a baby forever
To us.
The favorite?
Sorry, Joe, but no...well, maybe?!
You were loved the same as we
You were loved
as the baby,
as the only son,
as only you can be.
Chubby and cheeky,
Many stories we could seek...
...horses, tires, batteries, creeks...
for on this day, Joe became a baby forever.

On this day, he became a brother forever
To three sisters, oh, so unique.
They love him for being
the baby,
the only son,
their only brother.
Much kidding, ribbing, joking he did receive...
Wait! Don't feel sorry for him yet,
For he, though young, was already a pro
at poking fun, laughing at us...and with us.

On this day, he began the journey to the man he is...
A dad,
A friend,
A supporter,
Yes, still, a brother...and a baby...(!).
Through the years, heartache and loss.
Through the years, gain and adventures to cross,
A mini-Wilford with a dash of Ollie thrown in,
With three sisters,
Loving him,
Guiding him,
Yes, one bossing him...or two...or three!

On this day, he is 47.
47!
Then, how old is the other three!?

Did I digress? After all, this is about Joe Friel,
Who to us is so real,
Who likes to arrive and enjoy my meals,
Who, always looking for a deal,
To us...has so much appeal.

Happy birthday you!
Very proud of the baby...the brother...the man
Joe Pill is.

NPM: Poem 12

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

For You

With joy, with enthusiasm,
The Grandgirl One did go
To bend, to pick, to gather,
For to her this mattered.

A handful of dandelions.
Bright yellow, full of beauty,
Full of love.

"Tam Tam, I picked these for you!"

Right to the table they did go,
For they might have been bouquets to behold.
Selected for me,
Picked for me,
Hand delivered to me,
Those dandelions surely bore gold,
So precious were they to this Tam Tam.

NPM: Poem 11

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

I Wore Black

Out of respect,
Out of honor,
Two days this week, I wore black,
pausing in the celebration of the liberation of white:
White shoes,
White pants,
White purse.
White has been liberated,
From law, from social dominion.

Two days this week, though, I wore black,
For respect does never lack,
To set aside, to pay that last respect
To those who lived life fully.

One should pause in acknowledgement
As a testament,
To lives spent here as a witness to many,
Storing up crowns aplenty.

Both dads to friends,
One a student, one a peer.
My sympathies to both so sincere.
One too young to be fatherless.
One still not old to be be fatherless.
Only fatherless here, for both await reunited to be
With father and Father.

This week, I wore black.
Twice.
Honored I was.
Honored I am.

NPM: Poem 10

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

Waiting

The words begin to flow,
For the words the brain does bestow.
Line after line,
Just a matter of time.

A symphony of words?
Synchronized before reaching the fingertips.
Rhythms these collections, these groupings may have.
Directed towards a theme, a lesson spoken from the lips.

The piece does not begin
Until the idea settles,
For until then, the brain simple mettles,
Until the idea attributed to the brain's choir
Of arranged thoughts begin to merge,
The sounds begin to form.
The unspoken trickling into lyrics.

A bestseller?  Climbing the charts?
No.

Just a symphony released from the brain
Down through the fingertips
Onto the page
To be preserved
To give the brain a rest.
Words released to rest upon the page,
For now they no longer wait.

NPM: Poem 9

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

Unique

Five sections.
One topic.
Same lessons.
All different.

Teaching seniors, an age I love.
Young yet old.
Smart yet unlearned.
Leaders yet followers.
Experienced yet innocent.
Finished yet beginning.

Teaching five groups, a mix I appreciate.
White, black, Spanish, Latino.
16, 17, 18.
Male, female.
Talkative, quiet, funny, serious.
A, B, C, D, F?

Teaching young adults, who are just emerging.
Working jobs.
Paying bills.
Taking care of siblings.
Taking care of parents.
Taking care of grandparents.
Some now old before their time.

Teaching young adults, 98 all growing.
All with different names.
Names alluded to on this page.
Walking soon around the track.
Accepting that now not-so-allusive paper.
Celebrating who they were.
Beginning the rest of their lives.

Teaching the Class of 2015 from August to May.
Not for what they completed these months,
But for who they will become.
Successful in their choices.
Knowing this,
Always a student of mine,
Always a BHS alum.

NPM: Poem 8

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

The following poem was first posted just minutes ago on Facebook...for daughter Julie...today is her birthday!

Julie Gillmore Butcher's Birthday Haikus

Her birthday today,
Twenty-seven she is now.
Celebrating, yes!

Wife to Daniel B.
His better half she proclaims,
Always supporting.

Mother to two girls.
So lovely they truly are.
Teaching them always.

Grandparents we are,
Thanks to our eldest daughter.
Papa and Tam Tam.

Couponing, saving,
Bargain shopper to the bone,
Stretching a dollar.

This girl we do love
On her birthday and always.
Thanks for being you.

Happy day to you.
Abundant blessings are yours.
Julie Girl...love you!

NPM: Poem 7

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem a day.  Fun!

Ode...of sorts...to Normal School Hours

Tonight, the brain sleeps
With eyes wide open.

Tonight, the head nods
As a gentle, lady-like snore (of course)
awakens the brain.

Schedule changes demanding attention,
The brain one more thought cannot mention,
Again, eyes crossing in such yearning,
For tonight not one more iota of learning
Shall occur.
No...

ZZZZZzzzzzzZzzzZzzzzzz...what?

Tonight, the brain is now declaring
To Sleepland I must be sharing
Dreams of green trees with leaves,
Dreams where all receives
Hours of bliss and sleep deprivation now gone,
Peaceful hours as morning awaits...but...yawn...

Yawn.

Here, I sit spending time with you,
As I relax while chatting,
Softly progressing...
Yes, the time is now.
We part,
Until the morrow.
We part...

Yawn.

Yes, good night.

NPM: Poem #6

In honor of National Poetry Month, I am attempting to write a poem each day.  Fun!

Taking a Stand

Have you heard?
I am woman.
Respect I deserve.
Respect I expect.
Respect I obtain.

Have you heard?
My friend?  She is woman.
Respect she deserves.
Respect she expects.
Respect she obtains.

Have you heard?
We are Jesus Girls.
We pray,
knowing His Peace,
following His Lead,
heeding His Will,
accepting His Answer.

Counting Down: 4 Weeks

Four more weeks with my seniors.  This may have been the fastest year yet!

We are progressing towards what we refer to as the Senior Seminar Board:  each senior presents their thoughts on what work means to them to a panel of three adults (teachers, community persons).  Do they ever dread this, for the previous grades must enjoy embellishing this experience, for when I share the expectations, they question, "You mean that's all we have to do?"

Yes.

I do enjoy this project:

• Week 1:  Create a resume with four references.  Then choose a job ad and write a cover letter for the chosen job.
• Week 2:  Write an essay responding to this question:  What does work mean to me?
• Week 3:  From the essay outline, create a speech outline and then a multi-media presentation that supports the outline.
• Week 4:  Present to the Senior Seminar Board, dressed professionally.  Of course.

Deadlines are each Friday; this does keep them working for three weeks!  No down time!

Throughout these weeks, reality sinks to the tips of their pinky toes.  This is it.  Twelve years of English, twelve-plus years of school...all is about to end.  Interestingly, the rose-colored glasses return, and some begin missing what they know they are about to loose.

During that fourth week, they will make me proud.  They always do, for what teacher does not get excited when students rise to expectations.  Yes!

NPM: Poem 5

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I will attempt to write a poem a day.  Fun!

Then They Remembered

A few women,
Scurrying to arrive.
In time?

An opened-entry tomb.
Scurrying to arrive.
No time.

Alarmed they are.
Angels they see.
What?  Out of time?

How could they have forgotten?
One day spent accepting.
The next spent grieving.
How could they have forgotten?

Handed to sinners.
Crucified.
Risen.
Then they remembered.

He's alive!
No need for expensive spices.
No need for visitors this day.
No need to keep quiet.

He's alive!
They had remembered.
He's alive!
Spread the Good News.
Quell back disbelief.
Spread the Good News.
Tell to one and all.
He's alive!

This day we remember.
May we always remember.
Yes, He's alive!

NPM: Poem 4

In honor of National Poetry Month, here I will attempt to write a poem a day.  Fun!

EGG-citing Times!

Today, we gather
in the park
with neighborhood kids,
with church family alike,
eggs peeking out,
voices shrieking in excitement,
hot dogs roasting,
games galore,
prizes creating smiles.

Today, we gather
in the park
with neighborhood kids,
with church family alike,
sharing His Story:
yesterday He was crucified,
today He lies in a tomb,
tomorrow, He resurrects.

Today, we gather
in the park
with neighborhood kids,
with church family alike,
His Fellowship to share,
shining with His Son
on this beautiful day full of sun.

Today, we gather
in the park
with neighborhood kids,
with church family alike,
to plant and water the seeds,
to cultivate the hearts,
to point one and all
to Jesus Christ,
for He is risen
this we do know.

Today, we gather.

NPM: Poem 3

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I will attempt to write a poem each day.  Fun!

Baby Jack's Parents

Tonight Baby Jack arrives, but
Before he does, a moment let's spend
Celebrating the friendships of mom and dad
Who, together, created this special lad.

His dad I knew first.
Adopted him I did.
His teacher mom I became.
A Christian.  An Educator.
A Leader.  A Friend.

Then, his mom I came to know.
Both lovers of reading we are.
Both developers of professional growth.
Both wanting more for our WRRC.

These two are special.
My prayers with them now, as
From two, they now grow to three.
With the arrival of this gift,
May God continue to bless them so greatly,
For their love is about to grow, deepen, solidify
By the common gift that will be known as Baby Jack.

On this day, Baby Jack's birth date,
I feel blessed to know dad and mate.
On this day, Baby takes a breath,
And friendships take on a new depth.

Happy birthday, Baby Jack.

NPM: Poem 2

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I will attempt to write a poem a day.  Fun!

A Girl Day

Tomorrow, my day with The Girl,
To Little Rock, we will traverse.
Her heart full of beauty of the pearl,
Her heart she so quickly does disperse.

Tomorrow, my day with The Girl,
Time spent shopping, eating, chatting.
Planning outfits, snacks, coffees,
Meeting The Boy, The Doctor, The Nurses.

Tomorrow, my day with The Girl,
Developing that relationship,
Sharing the love, the laughter, the giggles,
Witnessing the growth, the love, the depth.

Tomorrow, my day with The Girl,
Treasuring the times, the meals, the trips,
Praising the good news, the good report,
Loving her, the time, the growth.

Tomorrow, the day with The Girl
I will spend.

NPM: Poem 1

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I will attempt to write a poem a day.  Fun!

She Is a Foolin'

The day of jokes and tricksters.
The day of shhhhhh and whispers.
Today, on whom will the jokes be made?
Will I be fooled and my thoughts swayed?

At 1:25, the intercom alive does come,
Calling lads and lasses  to succomb
To Saturday School for tardies galore,
Giving up free time they must deplore.

Then, my firstborn her name was called.
Why, yes, I was a bit shocked and appalled.
Not too surprised, for in the halls she often is,
So her presence has been amiss.

In come students, attempting to warn me,
Preparing me for behaviors simply to shocking.
"She is in trouble; just ask her."
A text I send as I start to murmur.

Arrives she does with a look of shame.
Yes, Saturday School he gave.
My response, with face grim,
"I will make sure you are there at 8 AM."

Then, she smiled,
For with friends compiled,
Her mother she fooled,
She, who was so schooled,
Had been duped.
My thoughts regrouped.
Planning now my revenge.
One year from today on much depends!